Tori packs up her books and stands to leave. “I’d better get going.”
“Stay for dinner, Victoria.” Dad doesn’t miss a beat as he flips open the pizza box.
We might not be in any way rich, but Tori is a single mom and the daughter of a single mom. I guess Dad feels an affinity with Tori’s mom somehow, and he might not think I see it, but he tries to help out every now and then in his own way. This isn’t the first time he’s encouraged her to stay and eat with us.
He doesn’t need to tell her twice, either. He hands her a paper plate, and she scoops a gooey slice from the box.
She’s making all kinds of contented noises as she folds the slice lengthwise, opens her mouth super wide, takes a giant bite, and chews like she’s never eaten pizza before in her life.
I’m about to take my first bite when the doorbell rings. I look at Tori, then Dad, then back to Tori. As pathetic as it sounds, almost everyone I hang out with is here. Ares doesn’t know where I live, and unless Aunt Maureen decided to spring a visit on us, it has to be the UPS guy.
Curiosity flickers in Tori’s eyes as she swallows down a mouthful and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
I bounce to my feet. “I’ll get it. You eat while it’s hot, Dad.”
I’m totally down with cold pizza, but Dad is not. I pull open the door expecting to find a delivery service or something, but instead, I come face to face with my boyfriend. My stomach clenches.
He’s wearing a dark hoody, backward ball cap, dark jeans, and sneakers that probably cost more than my car. He’s not wearing a coat though. Idiot. A handsome idiot, no doubt, but an idiot all the same.
“What… what are you doing here? Wait, better question, how do you know where I live? I… what…?”
He tilts his head and flashes that panty melting smile of his again. Oof, be still my throbbing clit. He leans forward, plants a chaste kiss on my cheek.
“Buenas noches, tesoro.”
Dreamy sigh. Why does everything sound so much more adorable in a different language?
“Why don’t you invite yourfriendin, Eloise?” Dad’s voice jolts me out of my daze. I’m tempted to swing my hands around my head to flap away the love heart bubbles that are probably popping out as I stare at Ares.
Invite him in? To our house? That doesn’t sound like a good idea.
“Oh, no, sir. I don’t want to intrude. I wanted to bring this.” He holds up a bag from GTFO,and I know pie’s nestled inside. Delicious, fruity, warm, and buttery crusted, perfect pie.
See? Even Ares knows it’s not a good idea for him to come into my childhood home. Drop and run.
“I insist. Come in out of the cold, you’re not even wearing a coat.”
Ares looks at me, is he seeking permission? Or is he trying to find an out from this now incredibly awkward and cold moment with my dad at the front door. I offer a small smile, my stomach twisting in knots at not only the thought of Ares hanging out in my home when by all accounts he lives in such… opulence. But also the fact Dad’s going to be especially mad that I’m hanging out with Ares.
Dad expressly forbade it. Yet, here he is.
“Thank you, Mr. Downing.” He tips his head and steps into the house like everything is totally fine.
Back at the dinner table, Tori sucks in a breath and a mouthful of her pizza when Ares enters the room. She said “fuck,” but it was mostly hidden by the fact she inhaled a wad of cheese, then started coughing.
“Ares, hey. What’s up?” She gives a little wave when she’s able to dislodge the wedge of pizza from her throat, then wipes her watering eyes before kicking me under the table.
What does she want me to do? What does she expect me to say? I don’t know how he found my house or why he’s here. I don’t know anything more than she does. I kick her back but miss her leg and kick the chair. That’ll teach me for choosing violence.
My pulse is racing. Wiping my palms on my thighs before picking up a paper plate, I hold it out to Ares. “Would you like to join us?”
Dad makes a grunting sound in the back of his throat. I hope he doesn’t say a word out of place. I already feel like Cinderella right now, entertaining Prince Charming in my humble abode. I don’t need Dad causing any arguments at the dinner table—especially when I don’t have any glass slippers at hand to throw at him.
“Zoey’s?” Ares points to the pizza.
I nod, attempting to disguise the fact I’m stunned he knows Zoey’s. I figured rich people got their food from other places. Rich people places, not regular person places. Doesn’t his pizza come diamond crusted and get delivered to him by a scantily clad woman who feeds it to him?
“I’d love a slice.” He pulls out a chair at the table, placing the bag of pie on his far side before sitting down, taking his hat off, and accepting my slice. How much pie did he bring? What flavor? And is it still warm? I’m fixating on the pie, so I don’t have to think about the fact that the only sound around the table is the ticking of the clock in the next room, and the occasional chewing sound.
