“That’s an understatement."
We get to the diner, and Aiden ends up ordering the same thing I do. We eat and chat. I tell him about some things that happened over the years here in Widows Peak, and he tells me about his life. Mostly stories about him and Sloane. Some of the Sloane stories make me nearly choke with laughter.
By the time we’re done, I’m fed and happy. “That hit the spot,” I sigh, then pout. “But now I want dessert.”
He chuckles. “Let’s order some.”
I shake my head. “Not from here. There's this little ice cream place just a few blocks over.”
“Then let’s go.” Aiden stands and pulls money out, placing a few hundreds down.
My eyes widen. “Our bill was only thirty bucks.”
“Great service.” Aiden grins. “Come on. Let’s go get my Omega his ice cream.”
My cheeks heat with embarrassment as he holds out his hand for me, but at the same time, I love it.
Taking his hand, I let him pull me to my feet.
We chose to walk instead of driving since it’s not very far.
“Kind of cold to be eating ice cream,” Aiden teases, taking a lick of his cone. “But I have to admit, it’s pretty good.”
“So good,” I groan, enjoying my peaches and cream.
“What kind do you have?”
Licking my lips, I grin as we walk back to the truck. “My favorite flavor."
“Okay, and that is?” He chuckles.
“Peaches and cream.”
“Fuck,” he breathes.
“It’s the closest thing to her sweet slick I can get,” I chuckle. “When I tell you I’ve been obsessed with that girl for years, I’m not lying. Honestly, I’m surprised she agreed to be my friend, let alone agreed to date me. Most people would be running for the hills.”
“Our girl isn’t most people.”
“Not at all.”
Aiden’s attention is on me now. Specifically, my mouth as I lick my cone.
My pulse spikes, arousal churning in my gut.
“What are you thinking about?” I murmur.
“Sorry.” He clears his throat. “That was rude.”
God. Could he be any sweeter?! If this were Sloane, I know he would have said something about picturing that cone as my cock or something. And I’d get turned on because it’s Sloane.
But Aiden seems like he’s worried about saying the wrong thing, though.
I grab his arm and pull him into a little alleyway.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, brows furrowed with worry.
“I need you to stop tiptoeing around us. I know you’re afraid to say something that might offend us or something. I can’t speak for Lexi, but I can speak for myself. Say what's on your mind. Don’t hold back. Be you.”
