I nod, hope tickling my stomach.
She sighs, slipping her hand into mine, and I’m pretty sure that if you searched the whole face of the planet earth right now, you couldn’t find a happier man.
The She Devil is holding my hand. Like... holding it. Not even trying to break it.
I’m so happy I could spit, but I won’t. I’ll play it cool.
It’s a short ride to Guac ‘n Roll, and it’s uncomfortably quiet. Brutally so. She doesn’t say a single word. Even the dulcet tones of whatever country singer has had his heart broken on the radio doesn’t fill the deafening silence enough not to hear it.
“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, you know.” It’s super hard to keep the hurt out of my voice, but I don’t want to force her into a situation she’s not comfortable in. As much as I want for her to want me, I don’t want to make her my prisoner all night.
I’d rather confess the truth to Ares and Eloise than have Penelope’s light dim over the course of the night.
Her head snaps to me. “What?”
“I can take you home again.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’d do that? You’d stand up your friends?”
“I mean, I’d probably go back for patatas bravas and get two portions just for fun. But I can take you home first if you’d rather.”
She snorts. “You think I’m letting you loose near those potatoes without me? Fat chance.”
“Does that mean you’re staying for dinner?”
She makes a ‘mhmm’ noise.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“About what?” She’s already turned to look back out the window.
“About what’s bothering you? You’re quiet.”
“I’m always quiet.” She flips her long hair over her shoulder.
I try. I do. But I can’t help the guffaw that bursts out of my mouth.
She smacks me with the back of her hand. “Jerk.”
“Too late now, we’re here.” I leap out of the car, circle the hood, and open her door, offering her my hand. “M’lady. Your potatoes await.”
She giggles, and I want more. It’s like I’ve heard the first line of a chart-topping hit, and I want the rest of the song.
Holding her hand, I lead her inside. When we get there, Ares and Eloise are sitting, staring doe-eyed across the table from each other. Was this a mistake? Is Penelope going to spend the night kicking my shins and ankles, and plotting a million new ways to kill me?
Probably.
I swallow hard, and lead her over to my friends. “Eloise, this is the lovely Penelope. Penelope, this is Eloise.”
Eloise nods enthusiastically. “I know. We’ve met at a game or two.”
When my eyes flex wide, Pitstop nudges me forward. “Sit, Satan. You’re hovering.”
So they already knew each other. Huh. From the look on Ares’s face he’s every bit as surprised as I am. Did the girls conspire to have dinner together tonight? Are they friends?
I have questions.
They don’t seem particularly well acquainted, conversation is slow to start and perhaps a little stilted. I’d guess it’s hard to have a real conversation during a hockey game. Eloise being a bit shy, and Penelope being quiet tonight doesn’t help, but it doesn’t take long before the server, Claudia, arrives and takes our drink order.
