I grab the menu with shaky hands and scan the dessert section. I point at the first thing I see.
“The Churro French Toast.”
Callum smiles. “Good choice. You know you could’ve just asked me for a bite earlier.”
I cringe, feeling my face heat up at his flirtatious voice.
Zephyr kicks him under the table, and Jax puts his hand up, casually letting it fall behind me.
I keep my head down, afraid that if I look at any of them, I’ll end up staring for too long.
Chapter Seven: Jax
I flag down the waitress before Tigerlily can protest. She comes over with that same bright smile, pen ready.
“The Churro French Toast,” I say.
“Oh, I really don’t—” Tigerlily starts.
“You pointed at it,” I remind her.
The waitress writes it down and walks away, and Tigerlily looks down at her hands. Cheeks pink. Embarrassed.
Callum launches back into his story about the game, something about the ref being blind and Theo getting away with a high stick, and I let him talk. But I’m not really listening.
I’m watching her.
The way she keeps glancing around the restaurant like she’s waiting for someone to walk over and tell her she doesn’t belong here. The way she won’t meet our eyes for more than a second before looking away. The way her shoulders are pulled in, making herself smaller.
She blushes every time Callum says something remotely flirty. Every time Zephyr looks at her. Every time I speak.
This girl doesn’t get male attention. Or if she does, she’s not used to it being this direct. This focused.
And the way she keeps checking the room, scanning faces, reading body language—that’s not shyness. It’s survival. That’s someone who’s learned to track every threat, every shift in mood, every possible danger before it becomes a problem.
Her piece of shit dad.
My jaw clenches. I have to consciously relax it.
The waitress brings the Churro French Toast, and it’s massive. Three thick slices of bread rolled in cinnamon sugar, covered in whipped cream and caramel drizzle, dusted with powdered sugar. It looks ridiculous and amazing.
Callum immediately reaches over and swipes a finger through the whipped cream, grinning as he licks it off.
Tigerlily watches him, then looks at me. Those curious eyes uncertain.
“Eat with me?” she asks quietly.
Then she looks at Zephyr.
“Please?”
Both of us. She’s inviting both of us to share her dessert.
I lean back slightly, studying her. This girl who can barely hold eye contact is asking us to eat with her, making sure no one feels left out.
That’s not what I expected.
I thought I’d be the one leading this. The one setting the pace. The one deciding how close we get, how fast we move.
