I ride with Aaron to the Sun Valley Diner, a local twenty-four-hour restaurant on the edge of town. The bell above the door jingles, announcing our arrival, and one of the waitresses waves at Aaron with familiar recognition before returning her attention to her customer.
Stepping inside, I’m immediately taken in by the old-fashioned vibe of the place. Black and white checkered floors are paired with red and white vinyl booths, and the bar counter boasts black, Formica countertops.
Aaron heads straight for the counter, claiming one of the red barstools as I climb onto the one beside him. A boy I don’t recognize heads toward us and says something to Aaron, but I don’t hear what it is as I’m too busy taking everything in. The diner almost reminds me of a Johnny Rockets, though maybe not as polished. I turn in time to see Aaron slap something into the boy’s hand in a discreet gesture. I miss whatever it is before the boy shoves his hand into his pocket and makes a hasty retreat after a quick nod in thanks.
“Who was that?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me. I’m pretty sure I know what just went down, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised. I never would have pegged Aaron as the dealer type.
“Just a guy from class.” He shrugs, but when I don’t say anything else, he continues. “I borrowed twenty bucks from him last week after losing my wallet. It was stupid.” He offers me a sheepish grin. “I barely know the guy but he helped me out. I was just paying him back.”
Oh. I guess that makes sense. All of a sudden I feel like a complete jerk for assuming the worst of him. What is wrong with me? Obviously he’s not some low-life drug dealer. What had I been thinking?
A waitress bounces toward us, her perky ponytail bobbing behind her. “Hey, little Henderson, you off tonight?”
Aaron smiles up at her, his dimples making a sudden appearance. “Yep. I’ve got the rest of the week to myself.”
Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Lucky. Who’s the hot date?”
I cough, thrown off by her assumption. I’m just about to correct her when a group of familiar male voices enters the diner. “Ro, Dom, grab the booth in the back. I’m gonna take a leak.” It’s Emilio’s voice. I see him out of the corner of my eye stalking toward a small hallway to my right. I hunch my shoulders and angle my head away from the walkway, but perky waitress over here decides to draw his attention.
“Hey, handsome. Can I put in a drink order for you?”
Emilio lifts a hand to wave her off, but he catches sight of me and who I’m sitting next to. He comes to an abrupt stop and quirks a brow. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” He comes closer and a knot forms in the pit of my stomach just as he calls out, “Yo, Rome. Your girl’s here.”
My cheeks heat and I wish more than anything I could disappear beneath the counter. It’s almost comical how quickly I go from relaxed and at ease to epically uncomfortable and Aaron sees it. His jaw tightens, a vein in his neck popping out.
The waitress’s eyes narrow in confusion as she flicks her gaze between Aaron and a now standing-and-heading-in-our-direction Roman who, I might add, looks royally pissed. This isn’t going to end well.
“I’ll leave you three love birds to your squabble,” Emilio chuckles and heads to the bathroom.
I grit my teeth. Bastard.
Roman crowds in beside Aaron, propping his forearm on the counter as he drinks me in. I don’t miss the hunger in his gaze or the fury rising in it. I flick a glance toward Dominique who’s settled back in the booth with an amused smirk on his face as if he’s settling in to watch the show. Roman clears his throat, drawing my attention back toward him.
“Care to explain?” His lips press into a thin line. I don’t know why I’m looking at his lips. Scratch that. I absolutely do know and it’s because he kissed me in the lunchroom today. I’m still pissed at him for it, too. Why does he continue being the asshole showing off that he’s got the girl when he doesn’t even want me?
“She doesn’t have to explain anything to you, man.” Aaron pushes up from his barstool, but a firm hand on his shoulder shoves him back down into his seat. Roman doesn’t even look at him. His eyes stay locked on mine, a tick now forming along his jaw.
“Alejandra…” He draws my name out, the sound low and seductive, sending fire through my veins. He’s using his bedroom voice, and God does it do things to me that it shouldn’t.
I take a deep breath. Come on, Allie. Be strong. I square my shoulders. “I’m having dinner with a friend,” I say, proud when my voice comes out even. “Is there a problem with that?”
His eyes darken as he straightens. “Yeah,” he says, “there is.”
“Umm…” Our waitress opens and closes her mouth. She looks like a goldfish, and I almost laugh.
“We’re good, Heather. Thanks.” Aaron waves her off, and we all watch as she scurries away to help other customers before Aaron turns to face Roman head on. “Look, man. I get you don’t like me or trust me—the feeling is mutual, by the way—but Allie’s my friend. I don’t care what you two have going on, that’s your business, but stop being an asshole for no reason. Why don’t you try being a normal guy and, I don’t know, call her or ask her out sometime?”
The urge to say “Yeah,” in a snarky told you so voice is strong, but I hold myself back and wait for Roman’s reaction. With exaggerated slowness, he swivels his head to give Aaron his undivided attention. I swallow hard at the look in his eyes. White. Hot. Rage. Had I been standing I would have taken several steps back—and I’m not even the one on the receiving end of that look.
Aaron’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down, but he manages to meet Roman’s glare and hold it. Impressive. Whatever issues lie between them, Aaron’s no coward.
Hostility radiates off both boys as Roman stares at him, unmoving, never saying a single word. Tension builds in the air. It’s suffocating. I rub my palms over the tops of my knees debating whether or not to intervene when Emilio finally pops out of the hallway, oblivious to the tension in the air.
“Hey, fuckers. We still chatting?”
Like a bubble being popped, the pressure releases and I noisily exhale. “Nope.” I turn to Emilio, a fake smile plastered across my face. “Roman’s just being Roman. You guys should probably get back to Dom, though. He’s looking lonely over there.”
Emilio looks over my shoulder and his grin widens. “Yeah, he doesn’t look so lonely.” I turn and spot our waitress—Heather—leaning toward him, her breasts intimately close to his face. Dom licks his lips.
I sigh. And then my stomach does the unthinkable and growls like a rumbling bear. How em-barr-essing. “Come on, vanilla. We need to put some meat on those bones.” Emilio tugs me from my seat angling me toward the booth Dom is still sitting in but I dig in my heels.
He stops and scowls over his shoulder at me. “What?”
I tilt my head toward Aaron and Emilio snorts. “You’re going to pick Henderson over us?” he asks as if the very idea of doing exactly that is unfathomable.
“Uh, yeah. I came here with him. I’m not going to just bail because you three showed up.”
He frowns like he never thought of it like that and I have to smother a laugh. The Devils really are used to always getting whatever they want. I tug my hand free from his grip and reclaim my seat, but rather than heading to the booth as I’d expected, Emilio grabs the stool beside me and Roman takes the empty seat beside Aaron, who looks anything but thrilled to be seated beside him. As soon as he reaches for a menu, Dom rises and heads toward us, taking the last empty seat next to Roman.
Aaron’s jaw ticks and he clenches his hands into fists on the counter. I rest a hand on his knee and mouth one word—Sorry. Roman sees the touch and his eyes narrow so I quickly snatch it away.
“We can head out,” I mutter. “Grab something on the way back to—”
“Nah. Don’t be like that.” Emilio moves to squeeze between Aaron and me, throwing his arms around both our shoulders and pulling us toward him in a weird side-hug embrace. “Stay. You want us to get along, right?” he says to me. “Be friendly and shit?”
I nod.
“Alright then. We’re doing our part. Henderson,”—he meets Aaron’s frustrated green gaze—“you don’t mind, do you? It’ll be just like old times.”
Aaron shoves out of his seat, forcing Emilio to stumble back a few steps. “I’m not fucking doing this.” His chest rises and falls with each heavy breath and he bares his teeth. Roman and Dom also stand, folding their arms over their chests.
I jump to my feet, eyes wide. “Hey, it’s fine. We can—”
“No. It’s not fucking fine.”
I flinch at Aaron’s tone.
“Don’t talk to her like that.” Roman comes to my defense, taking a menacing step forward. All of this is escalating way too fast.
“Hey. Hey!” I draw everyone’s attention back to me. “What am I missing here?”
“Nothing,” Aaron is quick to snap back.
Emilio laughs. “Keeping secrets, Henderson? Then again, that is your M.O., isn’t it?”
“Fuck off. I’m not dealing with your shit.” Aaron storms past him, making a beeline for the door before he catches himself and turns back to me. “Come on, Allie.” I step forward to follow, but a hand on my elbow stops me.
“Not happening. You wanna storm out that’s on you. But she’s not going anywhere with you like this.”
Before I can argue—because, yeah, Aaron is angry but it’s not like he’d hurt me—he’s cursing out a, “Whatever.” And leaving me behind.
Un-freaking-believable. I consider chasing after him. He’s my ride after all, but a firm shake of Roman’s head has me deciding against it. Was it too much to ask to have a normal day for once? No mean girls or asshole fathers or stupid boys to ruin it?
My stomach rumbles again. “Come on, vanilla.” Roman steers me toward a nearby booth. “Let’s feed you. I’ll take you home after.”
