“Princess? Do you like Vietnamese food?” Grey glances at me before his gaze goes back to the road.
“Absolutely.”
“Noodles it is, then,” he agrees.
Misha pulls out his phone to place the order. “I’ll get some spring rolls too. You know, for balance.”
“Remember to check for peanuts,” Grey mutters, and I shoot him an exasperated look.
As if I couldn’t check for them myself.
“Like I’d ever forget that,” Misha murmurs, tapping on his screen.
By the time we pull into the garage and make our way up to their apartment, the earlier heaviness of the day feels more like a dull ache.
“Are you going to hang out with us for the rest of the weekend?” Grey asks, the question casual but tinged with hope.
I smile at the invitation. “Yeah, I’d like that. But I’ll need to grab a few things from my flat first.”
Misha waves a dismissive hand. “Let’s eat first, then we’ll help you. No sense in doing anything on an empty stomach.”
“Agreed,” Oliver chimes in. “No one’s allowed to do anything until we’ve had our fill of soup and noodles.”
“Fine, fine.” I laugh, holding up my hands in surrender. “I’ll wait.”
Soon, the food gets delivered, and the smell of the Pho fills the kitchen. We gather around the kitchen island, and although the first few bites are taken in a comfortable silence, it doesn’t take long for Misha to break it.
“So,” he starts, a sly grin spreading across his face as he dips a piece of spring roll into the soy sauce. “Who’s going to admit that Grey’s little tracking app stunt was the highlight of the week?”
I almost choke on my noodles as Grey groans, rubbing his hand over his face. “Misha, I swear…”
I already guessed that they talked about what happened this morning when Grey caught up to the guys to tell them about Mr. Donovan and was wondering how we could broach the subject.
Apparently like this.
Misha eyes me as if to gauge if I’m comfortable with the topic, but when I smile at him, he doesn’t miss a beat, his grin widening. “Hey, I’m just saying that I like that we all have toshare our locations with each other now. I mean, it’s only fair. If you get to know where Amelia is at all times, then I get to know whereyouare at all times.”
Oliver leans in closer, a playful glint in his eyes. “And you know what this means, right, Grey?”
Grey narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Enlighten me.”
“It means no more sneaking off to get coffee without us. I’ve got eyes on you now, and I will know when you go to the coffee shop two blocks down without bringing us some.”
Grey narrows his eyes at Oliver, and I laugh, shaking my head. “So basically, we’re all each other’s personal surveillance team now. How very… dystopian.”
“We already are, little miss security feed. But if it means I get to track Grey’s every move and make sure he’s not overworking himself, I’m all for it. Plus, think of the benefits. We’ll never lose each other at conventions again.” Misha shrugs, popping another spring roll into his mouth.
“You go to conventions?” I ask, chuckling.
I didn’t know that was something they enjoyed.
“Wego to conventions. You’re part of the crew now, Bug.” Misha smiles, and although I’m not quite sure if that is a thingI’denjoy either, I very much enjoy feeling the sense of belonging that just crept up.
“Sure, Comic-Con, knight games… it could come in handy. Or when we get lost in the city,” Oliver adds with a nod directed at Misha. “Which, let’s be honest, happens more often than he’d like to admit.”
Misha just shrugs at the jab, and Grey sighs, but he’s laughing now too. “I’m starting to regret some of my life choices.”
“Too late,” I tease, giving him a playful nudge with my elbow. “You did this to yourself,DoctorDonovan.”
