Torn (The Fosters of New York 3)

"Are you coming?" She tugs on the front of my sweater. "I'm going to eat pizza with or without you."

My eyes linger on her face. She's standing so close to me that I can make out the three small freckles I noticed the first time I saw her.

"For the record," she says before she turns to the side. "It's after midnight so this isn't an actual date."

***

"I was right. You have to admit it."

I glance at the half-eaten pizza on the table between us. She didn't need to order when we walked into the restaurant. All it took was a smile and a wave on her part to the guy behind the counter and before I knew it we were seated, two ice waters in front of us and a fully loaded pizza on the way.

"You're wrong." I lick my lips. "The best pizza is in Brooklyn. I stand by that."

With an exaggerated exhale she throws her red and white checkered linen napkin on the table. "You're going to have to prove that to me. I doubt that you can, but I'm willing to give you a chance."

"You name the time, I'll name the place."

She runs her hand through her hair. "I've probably already been there. Tell me the name of the place."

I cross my arms over my chest. "Not a chance. You'll know it when we get there."

She takes a deep breath, holding my gaze. "You can't win, Asher. I'm considered a pizza expert in my family."

"You know more about pizza than Elijah?" I say her brother's name with a familiarity that feels comfortable. I'm determined to follow through with my promise to have him come down to the recording studio. If someone had done that for me when I was fifteen-years-old, I might have had the confidence to chase my dream of making a career out of music when I was younger. "Aren't all kids his age experts on pizza?"

"I know more about pizza than anyone."

The conviction in her tone makes me believe her. Maybe it's the fierceness in her eyes. Whatever it is I want more of it. I want her to believe in me the way she believes in herself.

"You may think you're an expert, but I survived by eating only pizza when I was in college. I went to school here so if there's a pizza expert in any of the five boroughs, it's me." I tap the toe of my shoe on the floor. "You're not going to win this, Falon."

Her mouth curves as she turns towards me in her chair. She crosses her legs, the skirt of her dress falling open, revealing her long, beautiful legs. My eyes rake over them, stopping at the point where she's holding the fabric against the top of her thighs, covering her panties.

"I'll go with you to this place in Brooklyn and try a slice but I guarantee that once we're done eating, you'll tell me that I was right all along." Both her tone and the glint in her eye are proof that she's challenging me.

"You don't back down easily, do you?" I lean forward, resting an elbow on the table.

She reaches towards me. Her right hand pats my shoulder before it settles there, her forehead against mine. "I won't back down if I know I'm right. You can wave the white flag of defeat right now if you want, but what fun would that be?"

"I don't give up," I say as I reach up to run my index finger over her right forearm, tracing a small circle that draws goosebumps to the surface. "You'll be the one telling me I was right."

"You're dreaming. That is never going to happen." She bites the corner of her lower lip. "When we go for pizza in Brooklyn, will it be before midnight? I'm just wondering if it will be an actual date."

I brush my fingers over her cheek. She's stunningly beautiful. Her features are delicate, her skin flawless. I pull her closer, the desire to kiss her again overwhelming. I don't care if we're sitting in a surprisingly busy pizza place in the middle of the night. I want to taste her lips again. I can't wait.

She smiles softly as I lean forward, her lips part, her breathing quickens. My heart pounds; each beat stronger than the last. As I close the distance, we both stop in place.

"I'm going to fucking die right now. You're not Asher Foster, are you? It's you! Holy shit, it's you!"

CHAPTER 19

Falon

The woman standing next to us shrieking in my ear has to be at least a decade older than me. You wouldn't know that by the way she's literally jumping in place and squealing. She's actually squealing. It's so high pitched that I'm sure I'm going to suffer temporary hearing loss.

I edge the wooden chair I'm sitting in back an inch or two along the tile floor.

"Asher, I love you. I absolutely love you," she screams. She doesn't say it. She screams it right into his face.