“No,” I snap.
She freezes again.
I step closer, fist tangling back into her hair, forcing her head up.
“Apologize.”
She swallows. “I’m sorry.”
I tighten my grip.
“Look ather.”
Her chin jerks toward Ayla. Tears streak her face now, real ones.
“I’m sorry,” she says again, louder. “I didn’t mean it.”
Ayla looks at her. Calm. Collected. No victory in her eyes.
She gives a single nod. That’s all.
I release Candy and straighten.
“Get the fuck out.”
She scrambles to her feet, dragging her friend with her. They don’t look back. The door bangs shut behind them.
The diner exhales all at once.
Only then do I look at Ayla. My hand is still around her wrist. She pulls it back and I let her.
“I’m going to go get changed,” she mutters.
I watch her disappear into the back.
I slide back into the booth like nothing happened.
A couple people avoid looking at me. Others don’t bother pretending. They stare. They always do.
I don’t care.
I wait.
Ayla doesn’t take long.
She comes out of the back fast, backpack already slung over one shoulder, jaw tight, eyes bright with something sharp and pissed.
She doesn’t look at me. She heads straight for the door. I’m on my feet before the booth finishes rocking back into place. The manager makes eye contact with me from behind the counter.
His face drains of color.
He turns and disappears into the back like he was never there.
I push through the door.
The sun hits my face. Ayla’s already halfway down the sidewalk.
Then I stop.
