Shock flashes across her face, gone almost immediately, replaced with something closed and careful. She stands there, wet and stunned, fingers curling at her sides.
Candy gasps.
“Oh my god, Ayla, I’m so sorry. I swear it was an accident.”
Her tone is perfect. Breathless. Apologetic.Lieswrapped in silk.
The other girl snorts into her drink.
That’s it.
The heat hits me so hard it’s almost clean. No buildup. No warning. One second I’m watching, the next I’m on my feet.
Candy spots me before Ayla finishes speaking. Her face lights up like she’s just been handed something she didn’t earn.
“Maks, hi!”
She says my name like we’re friends. Like her mouth isn’t just a hole I used to use from time to time.
I don’t answer.
I’m already moving.
My hand catches the nape of her neck, fingers threading into her hair, tight enough that she yelps when I twist. I haul her straight out of the booth, vinyl screeching, her hip hitting the table she stumbles.
“What the—Maks!”
I shove her down.
Hard.
Her knees hit the floor with a dull crack, hands scrambling to catch herself. The diner goes dead quiet. Forks pause midair. A couple people suck in sharp breaths like they don’t believe what they’re seeing.
I grab a fistful of napkins from the table and throw them at her face.
They flutter down around her like trash.
“Clean it up.”
She stares at me, stunned. “What?”
I lean down, just enough that she can hear me without me raising my voice.
“Clean. It. Up.”
A manager appears from the back, takes one look at my face—and disappears again without a word.
Candy’s hands shake as she gathers the napkins. She scrubs at the floor, at the sticky spill as people watch. Her friend doesn’t say a word. She’s frozen.
Ayla turns to leave.
My hand shoots out and locks around her wrist.
She stops instantly.
“Stay,” I say, eyes never leaving Candy. “She’s not done.”
Candy finishes wiping, starts to rise—
