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“Okay.” Abel chuckles, extending his arm to me. “Shall we?”
“I’m not that drunk. I can walk inside on my own.”
“And?” he questions, arm still extended.
I open my mouth to argue but realize that I don’t want to and quickly snap it closed. Linking my arm through Abel’s, I allow him to walk me to the front door. After guiding me inside, he waits at the door, holding it open for Aaron and Henna who somehow manage to walk inside without any assistance.
“You two sit here.” Abel barely touches Aaron’s shoulder and he falls into the booth, causing all of us to laugh.
“Where are you sitting?” Henna gives Abel a curious look as she takes the seat across from Aaron.
“Peyton and I will be in the next booth over.”
I don’t miss the way her eyes narrow in on my face or the knowing smile that lights up on her own.
“It’s not like that. We just don’t want to deal with you two.” I gesture between her and Aaron.
“Sure it’s not.” She gives me a disbelieving look.
“You are quite possibly the worst friend ever,” I tell her, wagging my finger in her direction.
“Ouch,” she says as I follow Abel to the next booth over.
“I’m so sorry about her,” I say, sliding into the booth.
“I’m sorry about him.” He hitches his thumb backward in the direction of his brother as he takes the seat across from me.
“They really are a match made in heaven, aren’t they?” I laugh, reaching for a menu tucked behind the napkin holder.
“That they are. Good thing they’re not like this all the time.”
“Oh lord, I don’t think I could be her friend if that’s how she acted all the time. Don’t get me wrong, drunk Henna is fun but as you have witnessed tonight, she’s also a master of embarrassing her friends.”
“Ah, she wasn’t that bad.” He grabs himself a menu.
“Wasn’t that bad? She pretty much told you I want to jump your bones in five different ways.”
“Yeah, but if it’s true who really cares?”
I blanch, not sure what the hell to say to that.
“Relax, Peyton.” He smiles, dimple and all. “I’m just messing with you.”
“Ha. Ha,” I deadpan. “So funny.” I flip open my menu, not able to make out a single word on it right away. I have to give my vision a second to adjust to the tiny letters before I can read it.
Guess I’m a little more intoxicated than I thought.
“So, what’s good here?” I ask, keeping my gaze on the menu.
“Everything.”
“You have to say that; your family owns the place,” I tell him, looking up to see him watching me. “What are you getting?”
“What I always get.” He shrugs. “A burger and fries.”
“Perfect,” I say, shutting the menu. “That’s what I’ll have too.”
