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SANTIAGO

For the next few weeks, Ariyan took me out to eat after every fight.

He always insisted on paying, rarely spoke, and only ever ordered a cup of green tea, which he never even touched. Yet, his company, just like tonight, was more than enough.

“Do you even like tea?” I asked, mouth full of meat.

Tonight, we went to a steak house I’d always wanted to try. It even had a dress code, which was a nice excuse for me to stare at Ariyan’s sexy suit.

“Don’t speak with⁠—”

“Your mouth full,” I mimicked him. “Yeah, yeah. Now, answer my question.”

He huffed, looking full of disdain, before he leaned back in his chair.

“No, I do not.”

“So why always order it?”

“Because I feel like it.”

What an odd reason.

“Don’t you feel like ordering something you’ll actually enjoy? I dunno, like coffee?”

“Caffeine is bad for you.”

“Coke?”

“Too many calories.”

“There’s diet.”

“No, thank you.”

“Beer, then⁠—”

“Don’t even get me started on alcohol.”

I placed my fork down and raised both hands. “I give up.”

Not finding me amusing, Ariyan’s expression remained unfazed as his lips set in a hard line.

Already used to it by now, I just went back to eating my T-bone.

“Your shirt is hideous, by the way,” he said.

Still chewing, I glanced down at my clothes. “Is it?” My brows creased as I eyed the denim button-up shirt. “I bought it when I was eighteen. It’s the best shirt I have⁠—”

“Well, it’s hideous,” he hissed without looking at me.

“Sorry…”

“Not to mention, it’s two sizes too small.”

He had a point.

“Why don’t you use some of the money you’ve made to buy proper clothes?”