Page 17 of Sweet Hate
“Sorry, Mom,” I mumble under my breath, apparently channeling my ten-year-old self today.
Ignoring me, she stands and ushers Haven in, so she has no choice but to slide in beside me.
This booth was a really, really bad choice.
Would it look bad to insist we move tables? Maybe go sit at the bar so I don’t even have to look at her, let alone touch her?
I’m hyperaware of her body heat as she sits beside me, our thighs barely an inch apart. It wouldn’t take much for them to accidentally brush. Her scent makes my mouth water and hell, now my cock jerks, wanting to join the party.
No, sir. You are grounded.
“I don’t want to intrude.” Haven’s shy smile highlights her pretty flushed face.
My hand flexes with the need to stroke her soft cheek, so I fist the fucker and shove it under the table. My limbs need to stop moving toward her without my permission.
Who am I, Pinocchio?
Affirmative Woody.
So, which asshole is yanking my strings?
I discreetly try to adjust the dick I can’t seem to control around her, as Macy heads over to take our order. Of course, she’s just as excited as Mom to see Haven and wants to know every detail about her life abroad. Jesus, I just need to get the hell out of here.
Mom orders her usual, and Haven folds her hands in front of her, before smiling up at Macy. “I'll have coffee, thank you.”
Mom and Macy’s twin shocked expressions would be almost comical until my mother opens her mouth.
“What? Not lasagna? Axel still gets it every time. Why don’t you have it for old times’ sake?”
Jesus, it’s true what they say, you’re never too old for your parents to embarrass you.
Haven’s stare burns into the side of my face right now, but I don’t dare turn.
“I’ll have a bacon cheeseburger,” I calmly announce, handing the menu to Macy, and now both she and my mother stare at me like I’ve sprouted two heads.
“Since when?” they both ask in chorus.
Jesus.
Honestly, they’d have a less dramatic reaction if I told them I quit my job.
Small town living is ridiculous. I should be able to change my lunch order without causing a national incident. Some days I can deal with the conversations, the nosy questions, the opinions on what I do and why. But other days, like today, I want to fade into the background. Do what I want without having to explain myself.
I hate everyone knowing my entire fucking history. Now I get why Haven couldn’t wait to get away. The idea is looking more and more appealing.
I should’ve turned my phone off and drowned myself in that cold shower until I found some damn sense.
6
HAVEN
Whipping up the icing for a batch of Funfetti cupcakes in Grams’ kitchen, I can’t help but let my mind wander back to how rigid and cold Axel looked in the diner. It was probably the most awkward lunch I’ve sat through in my entire twenty-nine years on earth. And believe me, Iknowawkward. I grew up feeling like I never really belonged anywhere.
Unless I was with him.
He was never cold before, and he never would’ve made someone feel uncomfortable, least of all me. Thats clearly not the case anymore. He’s been frostier than a snowman since I came back to town. What the hell is going on with him?
Thankfully I’m mostly over it now—moving back to London helped with that. It’s a lot easier to fake it till you make it when no one knows who you are.
