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“Here.” Peyton appears next to me, Aaron’s shirt dangling from her fingers. “I think that’s our cue to leave,” she tells me, her gaze bouncing between Henna and Aaron. I can’t tell if she’s pissed or amused at their ridiculous behavior.
“Yeah, I think so. Put your shirt back on and let’s go,” I tell Aaron.
“But we’re still eating.” He gestures to his plate that’s practically wiped clean.
“Hate to break it to you, but you’re all out of food.” I point to the dish.
“Fuck.” He groans. “I really wanted another fry.” He laughs when Henna bursts into a fit of giggles across from him.
“You two.” Peyton shakes her head before leaning down to grab Henna by the wrist. “Up you go.” She tugs.
“You’re so pretty.” Henna grabs Peyton’s face the moment she’s upright.
“And you’re still way too drunk.” Peyton smiles at her friend, and for the first time I really allow myself to see how beautiful she is.
I mean, I’ve known it all along. But right now, I don’t know, it’s like I’m seeing her for the very first time and my god is she breathtaking.
“I love you.” Henna leans in, so close to Peyton a mere inch separates their faces.
“I love you too, but so help me, Henna, if you try to kiss me again, I’m going to let your ass fall,” she warns, wrapping an arm around her friend’s shoulder.
“Wait, what do you mean if she tries to kiss you again?” Aaron perks up, sliding his shirt over his head before pushing his way out of the booth.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Peyton teases, turning her attention to me. “I left some cash on the table to take care of our checks,” she tells me.
“No, I’ve got it covered.” I shake my head. “You take her out to the car, and I’ll settle up.” I place my keys in her hand.
“I already left money.”
“And I said I’ve got it covered,” I repeat.
“Look at you pretending to be a gentleman.” Aaron punches me in the shoulder and I’m tempted to knock him on his ass.
“Why don’t you shut up and go with them, yeah?” I gesture toward the girls right as Peyton begins to turn, her arm looped around Henna’s waist.
“I like you better when you drink,” he tells me.
“I like you better when you don’t,” I fire back.
“Dick,” he mutters, quickly spinning around and following the girls out of the diner moments later.
I grab Peyton’s money off the booth and replace it with my own, waving at Bernie as I make my way to the door.
By the time I make it outside, Peyton has managed to get everyone in the car and is standing next to the passenger door when I approach.
“Here.” I hand her the money back.
“You know, I’m capable of paying for my own meal.” She stuffs the cash in the front pocket of her jeans.
“I know.” I smile, crossing to the driver’s side of the car.
