?????????
Much to my delight, the restaurant is absolutely gorgeous. The private room is dimly lit, with flickering candles running down the center of the long, glossy table surrounded by ten chairs. Floor-to-ceiling windows run along the wall, showcasing sparkling city lights beyond.
Totally on par with how my day is going, the seats at the table fill up quickly, leaving me, Alex, and RaeAnn to squeeze together at the far end. I don’t miss the tick in Alex’s jaw as he sits, unamused that he’s on this side of the table instead of at the other end, where Brandon, Ace, and Jasper are already cracking jokes.
But Alex doesn’t come off as the cracking jokes kind of guy, so maybe this moody disposition is how he always is. It’s unfortunate—if he didn’t look so miserable, he’d probably be quite lovely to look at. Almost like Amaury Guichon’s younger, hotter brother.
But, alas. That’s not the case.
Instead, we get to spend time with the steely version of Oscar the Grouch. Maybe he just needs someone to help pull him out of his shell.
“So, Big Al…” I swing my attention to him, smiling hard at the cheesy nickname I spontaneously bestowed upon him.
“Nope. Absolutely not.” He cuts a hand through the air.
“Absolutely not what?”
“Don’t call me that.” His eyes flare. “Ever.”
“Okay, okay… no Big Al. Got it. I was trying to be friendly, but no problem. Big Al is dead to me. RIP.” I laugh, raising my hands in surrender.
He doesn’t smile.
I keep mine firmly in place, even as it starts to feel a little too tight around the edges.
Cool.
Cool, cool, cool.
Love a man who hates joy and whimsy.
Today clearly isn’t my day, I’m batting a thousand here.
Okay, breathe, Taylor. Not your finest moment, but it can only go up from here.
RaeAnn clears her throat before speaking, breaking the tension. “Are you both from here, then? I mean, from California?”
“Yes.” I smile.
“Absolutely fucking not.” Alex huffs at the same time.
RaeAnn’s eyes widen at the disdain in his voice.
“Oh, yeah. Me neither. I’m actually from Kentucky, Pine Ridge to be exact.” Her gentle Southern twang comes out stronger when she says it. Joy leaps in my chest at the sound. I want to ask her to say it again, but I know better than to risk any more offense on the first day.
One arch nemesis is enough.
The meal progresses without much fuss or fanfare. Forks clink against plates, and voices rise and fall in overlapping waves of conversation. Brandon launches into a dramatic story about a catering disaster the restaurant he works for encountered last month. Ace interrupts him three times. Jasper laughs loud enough to draw looks from the neighboring room.
I try to focus. I honestly do.
But my attention keeps snagging on Alex.
He eats quietly, efficiently, as if ingesting his medium-rare steak were a task to be completed rather than something to be enjoyed. He mostly keeps to himself, responding with short, clipped sentences only when required. It’s deeply unsettling.
I readjust in my seat.
“So,” I say, then immediately realize I have no idea where my sentence was supposed to go. “This place is really nice. Like…reallynice. Definitely not the kind of place where they give you crayons to color on the tablecloth. Which is tragic, honestly. Crayons solve so many problems.”
