I had skipped dinner before leaving for work tonight, and the only food I had eaten all day was cotton candy. It was safe to say my appetite had returned.
They were looking at me, waiting for me to decide. Dean had his arm across the back of the front seat, the hood of his jacket still up, while Seb was giving me little nods and smiles of encouragement.
I smiled. “Okay.”
Nothing within reasonable driving distance was open this late in the night, so we settled on a bodega and parked out on the street. Seb volunteered to go in alone and said before leaving, “Dean might scare the attendant.” He was referring to the fact that, to an outsider, Dean looked like he had just come from a fight, which was true but he didn’t need the attendant asking if he needed assistance.
Seb didn’t have a reason for why I needed to wait back.
We waited outside the car. The heat of the day had gone down by a few degrees but it was still humid, which had made waiting in the car, even with the air-con on, just a little uncomfortable.
I stood on the sidewalk, preoccupied with looking up at the stars, while Dean leaned against the back door of the Cadillac. A cigarette hung from his lips while he fished through the pockets of his shorts for a lighter.
“I hate saying this,” Dean began, brows furrowed in concentration while he lit the end of the cigarette. “But you’ll get used to it.”
I blinked. “Used to what?”
“All of it.” Smoke curled from his lips as he gestured lazily with his hand to nothing, the other buried in his pocket. “The fighting, the fighters themselves...the way they talk about women.”
“Oh.”
“I’m not making excuses for them.” Unintentionally, he was. And I think he realized that the second the words left his mouth.
“Of course,” I said.
He studied me for a moment, regret or disappointment in his eyes before he brought the cigarette to his lips again and took a longer drawback on it. His attention focused instead on flicking ash into the gutter.
A beat of silence settled between us before I said, “Does it hurt?” I cringed slightly at how stupid it sounded. How else did I think getting punched in the face felt?
Dean had cleaned up most of his nosebleed, but his lips and chin were still a faint shade of red, while the bridge of his nose was slowly turning a light shade of purple.
Dean shrugged. “At the moment, no. It’s just a dull ache.”
“Do you get injured often?” I didn’t know why I was asking, other than to avoid another awkward silence. But if Dean found the questions irritating, he wasn’t showing it. He seemed genuinely okay with having such a casual conversation. Then again it could’ve been the concussion making him a little more approachable.
“It’s usually a split lip, cheek, or eyebrow,” he said, running a finger along his right eyebrow where there was a small split through the middle of it. A permanent reminder of the night we met. “Sometimes a dislocated finger… This was a lucky shot,” he added as he gestured to his nose.
I moved closer to the car and leaned against the sleek, emerald-green hood of the Cadillac, keeping a substantial amount of space between the two of us.
“Seb told me about how Murphy broke your ribs last year,” I said quietly. “I couldn’t imagine how painful that must’ve been.”
There was a ghost of a smile on his lips as he drew back on his cigarette again, nodding as he inhaled. “Leave it to Seb to reveal everything about me—”
His phone buzzed within his pocket, and he fished it out, leaving the cigarette to hang from his lips as he frowned at the screen. Tendrils of black hair fell out from beneath his hood.
I only caught a glimpse of Roxy’s name on the screen before Dean shut his phone off and returned it to his pocket, brushing his hood back with his hair as he did.
I twiddled my thumbs and looked in the other direction. Searching for something else to say before the conversation I had with Kira earlier today popped into my mind. Her request for Romeo’s signature for Aiden.
In theory, now was a perfect time to ask. Dean was right there and unoccupied. But it was the fact that he was right there that made me stall. I had imagined the scenario earlier today but now the whole thing felt stupid and embarrassing.
Just ask. There’s no harm in asking.
I cleared my throat and he looked at me immediately, his eyebrow arched slightly in question as he watched me from side on. The look alone made my heart race. Or maybe it was just the anticipation of what his answer would be. I smiled nervously. “So, I have an...odd request, and I completely understand if you don’t want to but—”
He turned to face me, one arm resting on the roof of the car as he leaned into it, actively listening.
Focus, Lily.
