“I was thinking once a week. Jesus.” He rubs the back of his head.
“No. Every other day and every weekend. I have friends we can hang with in LA as well.” He's shaking his head, and I can’t fully tell what he’s thinking, but I’m sure it’s something along the lines of regretting even coming here tonight.
“Can we kiss?”
“Only in public or to prove our relationship when requiring it,” I say as if I’ve thought about this already. It just rolls off my tongue at this point.
“Hm.” He presses a finger to his lower lip. “Alright.” He picks up a shot, hoisting it in the air for me to do the same. I nod and take one in my hand, clinking the shot glass to his as we cheer.
“To outsmarting our families.” I grin.
“And to get everything we want.” He leans in with a smile as we take the shot in unison.
I’ll admit drinking this quickly is probably not the smartest idea, given my history of motion sickness, but we actually… have fun together.
We’re laughing and talking about some dumb shit from our school years. It’s definitely not what I expected tonight to look like. We’ve been here for two hours already and still have yet to actually get food. I look around the restaurant, looking for the waitress we’ve shooed off multiple times already because we were too drunk to read the menus properly. When I don’t spot her, I turn my head back to Antonio.
“We should leave.” I nod, and he lets out a laugh.
“Nah. What about food?”
“I’m kinda vibing McDonald’s.” I lean my warm cheek on my fist, and he blinks at me, mouth parted, so his nicely squared teeth show as he laughs.
“Fuck. Alright.” He nods to the waitress, who comes over right away, ready for us to finally order.
“Add this to my tab, please. We’re done for tonight.”
“Yes, sir.” She nods.
“Thank you!” I smile wide, waving as she walks away.
“You should leave her a tip.” I grab his arm as we stand to steady myself.
“You think?”
“We should!” I correct and pull out my wallet, throwing at least two hundred down on the table. He watches me do it, a glint in his eyes that tells me something I’m doing is attractive. I get closer to him, link my arm playfully through his, and he lets me. Pulls out his wallet, tosses God only knows how much down next to my tip, and guides me out of the restaurant by the small of my back.
Chills run up my spine at the soft touch of his fingers. I don’t particularly enjoy the insinuation of such antiquated actions. I’m quite capable of walking out of a restaurant I'm very familiar with without his guidance. But I don’t move his hand, don't show him it’s unnecessary because a part of me is enjoying the feeling of him touching me. The instant we’re outside, I am blinded by the flashes of paparazzi cameras blaring in our faces. Both of our security surround us, pushing through the crowd until we’ve reached his car.
“I can drive.” I think I hear Antonio say as he guides me to my side of the car, helping me into the passenger's seat and closing the door. It’s silent, less blinding, though my corneas feel permanently damaged. Every blink, there’s an after image, until Antonio plops in the driver's side.
It’s funny how our bodyguards have to be stuffed in the back of the SUV while we get to call the shots up front. I’m already feeling more in control by the minute.
I feel exhilarated as we peel out of the spot, away from the flashes of cameras and onto the still-busy LA streets.
Nothing can touch me now. I’ll get everything I ever wanted and more. It’s the stuff money can’t buy, the things you lie awake thinking about at night, toiling over in your head until you can’t keep your eyes open any longer.
For the first time in my entire life, I taste true independence, and I’m never going back
Not without a fight.