She rolls her eyes, then looks back at me, her arm going back to the backrest.
I chuckle, relaxing into the seat as the warmth of the moment settles in my chest. I lift my arm to the backrest too, needing to touch her, even if it is just our fingertips.
Her fingers graze mine where they rest on the curved backrest. She doesn’t move away. Neither do I.
Angelos glances between us again, squinting as if he’s sensed the crackling tension between us. “Are you sure you two aren’t a thing?”
Rose’s whole body stiffens. “No.” Rose sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Dan is just a friend.”
I lean forward, elbows on the table, and shoot him a grin. “What, you don’t think your mum’s got good taste?”
His face scrunches up. “Ew, no. Stop. I’m eating.”
Rose glares at me. “Exactly. So can we not?”
I lift my hands in surrender, chuckling.
Rose exhales, and for the briefest moment, I see the hint of a smile playing at her lips. Then she nudges my foot under the table, her way of telling me to behave.
I nudge her back.
Because let’s face it—I never behave.
Rose raises a brow. “Dessert?”
“No time. We’ve got a game to get to.” Angelos taps his new City shirt like it’s a badge of honour. “Can I have another drink, though?”
“Priorities.” I grin. “Kid’s got his head screwed on right.”
Rose sighs, looking between the two of us. “Great. Now there’s two of you.”
I lean back, unable to contain my grin. “Took you this long to notice?”
She gives me a sharp look before turning to Angelos. “Diet Coke. I don’t need you bouncing off the walls at the stadium.”
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue as he grabs his glassand squeezes past me in the booth to fill his drink at the dispenser.
We both watch him like a hawk and I catch myself smiling like an idiot. The way Rose handles him—firm, but with an ease that says she’s got this whole parenting thing down—is something I could watch all day.
When he returns, he sits opposite me in the booth, sucking his drink through a straw. “So, Dan.”
I glance at him. “Yeah?”
His eyes narrow slightly, like he’s assessing me. “Mum says you’re just a friend.”
Rose tenses beside me. I can feel it even though we’re not touching anymore.
I tilt my head, playing along. “Yeah?”
He studies me. “But you don’t look like just a friend.”
Rose groans. “Angelo?—”
“Nah, it’s all right.” I flash him a lazy grin. “What do I look like then?”
He crosses his arms. “Someone trying to impress my mum.”
I glance at Rose, who is now very pointedly staring at the salt shaker as if it holds the meaning of life.
