five o'clock when Dante leans back in the seat with his hand draped over his stomach. “Oh god, I already regret that,” he moans.
I don't know how they did it, but almost all the plates are empty. Between the three of them there’s barely a crumb left. I now feel silly for ever thinking they ordered all that just so I could pick what I wanted, but I’m grateful for the distraction of their company. I've been way to consumed with them to obsess over where my mom is, or if she's coming back.
They talk easily with each other now that the strangeness of my presence seems to have worn off for them. Most of the time they carry on as if I'm not even here, not that they're ignoring me, more like they're so comfortable with each other they can't help the way they react to one another. I find myself engrossed in watching them, paying way too much attention to every movement Oliver and Milo make, since they're easier to watch seated across from me.
Dante’s presence almost becomes bearable next to me. I'm relaxed enough that some tension in my shoulders has lessened. My elbow lifts to the table and I lean my cheek and temple on my palm.
They're talking about school and assignments, a paper none of them want to start is due, and I blink slowly. My belly is full and last night’s sleeplessness seems to be catching up with me.
A warm tingle buzzes across my cheek. I sigh and lean into the felling. My head falls and I'm jolted awake right when my shoulder collides with something hard and warm.
It barely takes a second before I realize where I am and who I'm with. Mortification is swift as it burns my cheeks and gives way to shame. Good god, what was I thinking? Was I drooling, how long was I asleep?
“Laura,” Dante’s deep voice croons, while I rub both hands over my face to hide the redness I know must be there.
“I'm so sorry,” I mutter through my hands.
“Kill a guy’s ego, would you?” I peek through my fingers at Oliver. “All three of us combined aren't entertaining enough to keep one beautiful girl awake with our thrilling conversation.” He smiles at me through his impressively long eyelashes I'm secretly cursing him for. He's the jokester of the group, keeps everything lighthearted. I blush harder from the compliment.
“Didn't sleep well last night?” Milo asks with a small frown on his face.
“No, not really,” I answer finally, sitting up. When the silence stretches, I give a shaky excuse about needing to get home.
Dante stands slowly and extends his hand down to tug me from the seat. The moment my hand is in his, I sense that same pooling warmth and a brush of something familiar against my senses.
Caught off guard I start to ask, “Do you feel that?” But before he can answer, the door opens with a jingle and we're interrupted. My hand is still in Dante’s when Delaney walks up to the table. Her eyes are trained on the exact spot our skin is connected, and where the tingle is coming from. I jerk my hand free and rub my palm over the rough denim covering my thigh.
“Cozy, cozy, cozy,” she hisses, eyes now narrowed in my direction.
One of the guys huffs or snorts as a reply.
“Thought you had plans with the guys today Dante?” Delaney accuses in a whiny tone.
“I did, do,” growls Dante past a clenched jaw. Great, now I've gotten him in trouble.
Without me even noticing, I've somehow been shuffled to the back of the group.
“How did you guys end up here with her?” Her tone makes it clear what she thinks of me.
“Delaney,” Dante barks, “I’ve told you I can't do weekends, so if you need to find someone else for the position then do it, but I need you to respect that or I'll walk!”
From behind Oliver’s back, I see her lips soften and turn into a pout.
“I'm sorry Dante,” she coos softly. “You know how I get. I just want the best and that's you.” Her fingers crawl up his arm as she takes a step closer. I turn away before I witness anymore.
Desperation leaks from her in spades. I almost feel sorry for her, that she'd be willing to let him treat her this way. If I was in her shoes, would I do the same? No, I think with a small amount of conviction. I want