She snorts and takes another bite.
“I’m sorry about that,” I say honestly. “It was a shitty thing to say.”
She shrugs one shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.”
I almost ask who, but stop myself. I’ve probably said worse. But she doesn’t seem distressed, so I let it go. There’s something almost unsettling about that—the ease with which she shrugs it off, like she’s had so much practice being insulted.
Then she adds, “Now, if that place makes waffles as good as these, I’d work there in a heartbeat.”
I glance up from my burger. She’s licking whipped cream off her thumb, her tongue moving slow and unselfconscious. The image hits me hard. Rosaria Lopes at a topless diner, apron strings tied at the back of her waist, wearing nothing else. Just tits and ass and smooth skin. A tray of waffles piled high with whipped cream balanced on one hand. A stream of need crawls down my spine, stiffening my cock.
I set down my burger and take a sip of coffee, so my voice doesn’t come out as hoarse as it feels. “If the waffles were as good as these, you might get to keep your shirt on.” Though that would be a fucking tragedy.
She spears another strawberry, smirking. “Bold of you to assume I’d want to.”
The imagery is a little too much. I’m not sure how we got to discussing her topless for the better part of five minutes, but Ifocus on my burger to get myself back under control. The woman is a siren.
Rose finishes her meal mostly in silence, except for the occasional exaggerated moan, which I do my best to ignore. But her color is coming back, and I can tell she’s feeling better, and something in me uncoils at that.
There’s nothing left to say, so when the plates are cleared, we pay. I take a quick peek at her cut, which has stopped bleeding, then we walk back to the motel. It’s nice. Peaceful. Rose and I just went over an hour without insulting each other. The night air has cooled down some. She walks beside me, close enough for me to smell her shampoo when the wind shifts. My hands stay in my pockets. I’m aware of the exact distance between us, the sound of her footsteps against the asphalt, the way her arm grazes mine on the narrow shoulder of the road. I find myself slowing my pace to match hers.
She smells like waffles and strawberries, and cream. And something distinctly Rose. Spicy, like cinnamon and cloves, which grows stronger the closer together we walk, until we’re tucked under the short awning at the back of the motel.
“You and Pearl are close, huh?”
The question puts me on guard. I turn toward her, leaning against the motel door. “We are,” I hedge. “Since high school.” Rose knows that, I can’t imagine why she’d ask.
She nods. “Are you two…”
I stare at her for a second, wondering where she’s going with this. The question isn’t offensive in itself, but I was having fun at the diner. I’d forgotten who Rose really is. She tormented Pearl for years. Stole her boyfriend, stole her car and sold it for cash, did a dozen other things I probably don’t even know about. And now she’s standing here, asking me if something is going on between us, like she has any right to the answer.
“Pearl is one of my best friends,” I say simply.
“Yeah, I know. I knew that. It’s just…”
She bites her lip and looks toward the woods behind the motel. “I had a nice time. At the diner, I mean. Not the crash.” She laughs lightly, then turns back to look at me. Her lip is a little red from where she had it caught between her teeth. “Look, Pearl doesn’t always—she’s not always—“
“Rose.”
She blinks. “I’m not trying to start something, I just—“
“One good hour doesn’t make us friends,” I say a little harshly.
“I know that—“
“Then don’t. Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.”
“No, I need to say this. After what you said about me on the plane… Look, Pearl isn’t always the most honest person, and—”
“For fuck’s sake, Rose.” I feel the warmth of the last hour drain between us.
“I’m not trying to trash-talk her.” Her voice climbs. “I’m just saying she makes things up about me, and can be a little self-serving sometimes—”
“Right. So she’s a liar and a narcissist.”
“Stop cutting me off.” Her voice cracks with frustration. “Tonight was good. You know it was. And we have to get through tomorrow together, so I’m asking you—whatever Pearl has said about me, can you just set it aside? Just until the wedding’s over. You can go back to hating me after.”
“You’re the one who comes at me every time we’re in the same room.”
