No, he didn’t just say that. I almost throw my empty cup at him. Almost.
Calm down, Tia.
There’s no judgement in his voice, but concern.
I finally get to eat out and choose my own food, and he is telling me my choice is no good. I blink back tears, and I look down at my hands.
“I never get what I want,” I mumble, and I don’t think I’m talking about food anymore.
I don’t have freedom to choose. I’m always on the run. Control is what I want, not the stupid cookie and chips.
“It’s okay, Victor. I’m just tired. I’ll get whatever you get.”
Victor reaches under the table and squeezes my knee. The jolt of electricity traveling up and down my entire body shuts down the fidgeting of my legs.
His eyebrows pull down in concentration and after a moment he gets up and leaves to get in line. When he returns later, he places a tray in front of me with a turkey sandwich, a cookie, a small bag of chips, and a bottle of water. His tray contains the same items.
“But you’re training. You can’t eat chips and cookies.”
He flashes me an alluring smile while unwrapping his sandwich. “We can do anything we want to.” He winks at me.
“That’s right,” I say confidently while reaching for my cookie.
I take a huge bite from the extra-large cookie and squint my eyes from the sugary pleasure, savoring each hue of taste on my tongue. A small sound of enjoyment of my damn cookie and finally getting one thing I wanted escapes my mouth. When I open my eyes, Victor is giving me a gaze that explores and suggests. His hand is grabbing his sandwich so tight that his fingers have punctured the bread.
“You have chocolate on your lips.”
I lick my lips trying to get the chocolate. His eyes drop to my mouth, and Victor licks his lips as well. His chest is rising and falling faster now, and I wonder how the bull tat looks right now under his T-shirt. He takes a deep breath and drags his gaze to my face.
“What’s your favorite food?” he asks and resumes eating his disfigured sandwich.
“I don’t know if I have one. I like everything with sugar. Desserts are my favorite food. I really want to try beignets.”
I hope I’m not giving out too much information. He won’t figure out my runaway city where they serve the best beignets. I’m overreacting. It’s fine. Totally.
His eyes sparkle as if he just got an idea, but he doesn’t share it.
“What’s yours?”
“Sugarplum candy.” He grins.
Interesting.
“When I was little, my mom used to make the candy for Christmas from scratch. I’d stay in the kitchen, standing on a stool to see what she was doing on the countertop. When I was older, she taught me how to make my favorite candy myself. I can’t resist them even when I’m on a prep for a fight.”
“I thought you shouldn’t eat candy since you’re a hotshot fighter.”
“But that doesn’t mean I don’t crave it.”
Is he still talking about the candy? I’m not so sure after he gives me his seductive smile.
I open my mouth to ask him about favorite movies when a short guy stops next to Victor’s chair.
“Hi, Victor.” The guy extends his hand to shake Victor’s. “I’m Noah’s cousin. Just stopping by to say thank you for—”
“No need. That’s fine.” Victor’s eyes are weary and dart between me and the guy.
The guy nods and shakes my hand, greeting me.
