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That only made me want to cry more. I felt like a child.
I was really beginning to hate that I was so shy. Avery would have brushed this off as if it was nothing. But I couldn’t do that.
I ripped the packet open and hastily wiped my mouth and fingers clean, vowing to, never-ever-not-in-a-million-years, eat BBQ wings again. Nope. Never.
“Hey,” Trace leaned across the table, “it’s okay.”
No, it most certainly was not okay. I was about to cry in front of a room full of strangers…and Trace.
I nodded, avoiding his scrutiny. I stared at the basket of chicken. I’d only eaten two of them, but suddenly, I wasn’t hungry. In fact, I was pretty sure I would never be hungry again.
I pushed my basket away and covered them with a napkin.
Trace watched my movements, not missing anything, before doing the same and motioning the waitress over.
She scurried quickly to the table. “Is there something I can get you?” She looked down at the food we’d barely touched. “Did you not like the food?”
“We’re not very hungry,” Trace explained with a grin. Pulling his wallet out of his pocket he handed her money. “This should cover our meals,” he pointed to himself and me, “and a tip for you.”
“Alright,” she accepted the money. “If you didn’t enjoy your meal I can speak to my manager and-”
Trace held up a hand to stop her. She tucked a piece of blonde hair that had fallen out of her ponytail, behind her ear.
“That’s not necessary,” he told her.
“Okay,” she said softly, skittering away, but glancing back over her shoulder at Trace.
“Did you drive?” He asked me.
“No,” I shook my head. “Avery brought me.”
“Good,” he grinned, tapping Luca on the shoulder. “We’re gonna head out. Get Avery to take you home.”
Avery grinned like the cat that ate the canary. “Don’t expect me back tonight,” she informed me.
I rolled my eyes. Avery was cocky enough to be a guy. There was no one else on the planet like her.
Trace stood and shrugged his lean shoulders into his leather jacket. I raked my eyes over him, I’d been too nervous earlier to see what he was wearing. Surprise, surprise, he wore a purple plaid shirt.
“Come on,” he reached for my hand and led me outside.
I noticed that there was an area for people to eat outside but it was currently closed for the winter months.
Trace led me to a black car that definitely wasn’t the one he’d been driving.
“New car?” I asked, as he used a push button to unlock it. Definitely a new car.
“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I’ve had it a few months. I don’t like to drive the other one much.”
“Hmmm,” I mused, sliding inside, and then rubbing my hands along the black leather seats. How did he afford this? “What kind of car is this?” I asked.
“Dodge Charger,” He answered, backing out.
I grew quiet as he drove down the road and turned left at the stoplight, driving passed the CVS and Payless, before turning sharply into the Dairy Queen parking lot.
My body slammed into the door. “Oomph,” I groaned.
Trace chuckled.
