He still hasn't let go of me and I have an overwhelming need to bury my head in his chest. Not only that, but I want to tell him my mom is gone. That she left me alone and I have no idea what to do.
Without my consent my foot slides forward, bringing us closer, and his eyes widen a fraction. It's enough to remind me I don't know him, and he certainly doesn't know me. When I pull away, I immediately feel the loss of his touch. Not only the physical touch but also the heady tingling it brings with it. His mouth opens and his head tilts. “Laura?”
He doesn't have to say anything else; I know he's asking me about five questions with the utterance of my name.
“Sorry. I wasn't paying attention,” I reply with yet another apology. I sidestep him, allowing him to move out of the entry. He only takes two steps then moves so he's facing me again. As I start to walk through the door, I hear him say, “The guys are meeting me here. Wanna grab a bite with us?” I spin back around to look at him, wondering if he's just throwing me a bone to be nice, or if he feels the strangeness between us and is just as curious about it as I am.
His wide shoulders are rounded down, and his hands are shoved deep in the front pockets of his dark jeans. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was almost nervous, but right now in this moment, a moment that has me questioning just about everything. I don't care that I can't have friends. I don't care that he's probably just feeling sorry for me, because I need this distraction. I need just a few more minutes before I try to figure out what's happening in my life and what I could have possibly done to make my mom leave.
“Yes,” I respond quickly before I change my mind. Again his eyes widen and he looks at me like I might be about to launch myself at him, but a slow smile creeps over his face, his whole face, and let me tell you, it makes my knees a little weak.
“Really?” he says, almost in a whisper. A denial comes to my tongue quickly, thinking he was just offering to be nice. Damn it. “Great. I mean good, that's good. Uh, here okay?” He motions to the first booth.
Now I'm the one giving him the side eye, since he's acting nervous again. I slide into the booth with a little hop to get centered. He bends to sit on the opposite side but jerks right back up, taking a few steps and coming to my side. While he's doing this, the door jingles and the Milo and Oliver walk in.
All three of them freeze for all of two seconds. Then they continue over to the table, both of them wearing easy smiles, and I'm instantly on edge.
Dante slowly slides his big body into the bench seat next to me. Once I realize what's happening I scoot over into the corner, feeling a bit trapped.
Oliver moves into the bench across from us, his eyes are bright when he smiles at me. Milo is quick to follow.
It's silent as my eyes dart everywhere but their faces. Eventually I let my gaze drop to my hands, puddled in my lap. Awkward tension has me tightening my shoulders and arms, and I begin shrinking myself into the corner.
“Sooo,” an unfamiliar voice sighs in an long exhale. I hear a thud under the table and quick gasp. At that exact moment Dante turns to face me in the booth.
“I'm not sure if you've met Milo yet,” Dante says as an introduction. I glance up just in time to see Milo mouth the word 'dick' to Dante, then his eyes find mine.
Milo’s mouth opens like he's about to say something, but he freezes. His eyes are a dark navy blue; so dark in fact that I bet if I wasn't staring right back at him, I would have mistaken them for dark brown, almost black. Something familiar tugs at me as I watch transfixed, as his pupil shrinks the tiniest bit, allowing me to see how the intense blue ring around his eyes fades to a shockingly light blue. It's almost like he has two different colors in his eyes—the transition is that astonishing.