“Heyyyy Mr. and Mrs. Windsor, how are ya?” Ben spouts happily.
My stomach drops like I just fell thirty floors, my breath catching in my throat. His usual black and white sneakers appear right in front of our booth with black heels following closely behind.
It’s them. I can’t believe he stopped by to say hi while Tree’s with him.
Oh God, please don’t check down here.
My palm presses into my mouth hard to stifle my breathing, unable to come up with anything else to do at the moment.
“Oh, you know our names, come off it with that,” Mom chuckles back.
They always do this. Ben gets a kick out of calling them that, because he says our last name sounds like something spies or secret agents have. Plus, it makes my parents uncomfortable. He takes pleasure from the oddest things.
“I know. I just like seeing you squirm. How ya doing Sarah and Brady?”
“Well, we were doing good until just recently.” Oh no, Dad’s got that mischievous tone in his voice. He’s going to give me away. I just know it.
No one speaks for a minute as the sounds of the restaurant and my hard, nervous breaths on my skin fill my ears.
My eyes widen in horror as Ben’s dark jeans crease, each inch showing more and more of his legs.
Oh, God. He’s bending down to check under here. How the heck do I escape this situation?
But my panic’s meaningless. There’s no way out.
Thick black hair strands appear just under the table's edge first. He gelled his hair for her…
It must be a real date then because he rarely does that unless there’s a special event. Another punch to the gut threatens to send me reeling.
Next his forehead, bushy brows and caramel brown eyes come into view. I’ve been caught. He waggles his eyebrows up and down in his usual joking manner, his smile revealing itself as he fully bends down. I’m surprised he’s approaching me like this in front of her.
Oh God, what do I do?
“Whatcha doing down there?”
With no other option, I fake an awkward smile and force out a laugh to break the tension. I didn’t think this through.
How do I gracefully get out from under the table?
I arch my back as much as possible to try and create space to slink back up into the booth but misjudge thespace between the booth and the table. The salt and pepper shakers and platesclinkas the table shakes from where my head hits it.
“Ouch,” I whisper, finally clearing the table and avoiding everyone’s gaze while I rub the top of my scalp, attempting to lessen the sting.
I can feel Ben staring me down, waiting for me to look at him.
Deep breath. You can do this.
Clenching my jaw, I dare a peek. Yet, instead of seeing him, my gaze meets right with Tree’s.
Crap.
Her grey eyes are almost black, sucking me in like an animal caught in a tar pit. I open my mouth to speak but freeze under her death glare. Is she a witch? This intimidation is of supernatural levels.
Ben catches onto my discomfort because he interrupts the stare down.
“Well, hey, we’re gonna go sit down. I'm starving, but I'll see you all later, alright?” he says confidently, turning away toward a booth in the back of the restaurant.
Tree gives me one last glare that would scare any person in their right mind and then follows behind him pompously with her shoulders back and breasts pushed out. She reaches to grab his hand, but he nonchalantly shakes it off.
