I stare in disbelief as he buys a bottle of water and a chocolate bar.
Is he really having a snack in the middle of my mental breakdown?
He twists the cork open and hands me the bottle. “Drink.”
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m gulping down water. He takes the bottle back and gives me the chocolate. He’s already unwrapped it.
“Eat this.”
I should argue, but I don’t have the energy. I munch the chocolate and spy on Caspian, expecting him to look at me with pity.
He doesn’t. He looks at me like I still matter.
I don’t deserve to matter to him.
I swallow down the chocolate. He hands me the water again. I drink.
“That’s my car,” he says, pointing toward a black Audi.
“I don’t have a car,” I tell him for some reason. “Sometimes I borrow my parents’ car, but only if I have to because I prefer to walk. I can sit down on a bench to read if I want.”
Shut up, Antonio.
“You can’t read and drive,” I add, because apparently I’m a traffic cop now.
“I agree.”
“You don’t have to do this,” I say next, almost repeating my earlier words.Caspian can go home, drink a beer, and congratulate himself for dodging the tiny bullet of doom.
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”
“Why?”
I fidget with my bracelet. I can only wear it when I’m not working, because Mom worries the charms will end up in someone’s marinara sauce.
“I need to see you get home safe.”
The air is almost unbearably hot, but I’m shivering.
I peek at him again. I made that jibe at the trattoria about his Hilfiger style, but I actually like it. It suits him.
I make one final attempt to make him admit he’s ready to leave without me.
“It would be a detour for you.”
“Antonio.”
The way he says my name makes my stomach flip.
He opens the passenger door.
“I don’t give a fuck if it’s a detour. Please just get in the car.”
I stare at him. He stares back.
“Fine.” I climb into the damn car, because his happiness seems to depend on it.
I was getting so exhausted, it’s honestly a relief to sit down.
