“Well, thank you for inviting me.” My cheeks heat even before I speak the words. “It’s nice to not spend the entire day alone, and the food helps a lot.”
Quinton grins, and then asks, “More wine?”
I nod, continuing to fill my belly, but at a much slower pace. A door opens behind me, and I freeze mid-bite. I’m not sure why, but I didn’t think of Ren being here until this moment.
“Hey, you started eating without me, douchebag,” Ren’s voice carries across the space.
Quinton finishes filling the glass and hands it back to me just as Ren saunters up to the table. I tense, waiting for the snide comment or a dirty look, but none of those things happen. He pulls out a chair, grabs a plate, and starts piling food on.
“Fuck, they even set pumpkin pie.” He beams, taking a slice and placing it beside his turkey.
“Yup, they sent everything we usually have. I was shocked, but you know my dad. Whenever he does anything, he does it over the top.”
“I’m grateful we didn’t have to eat Corium’s version of Thanksgiving. I’d rather eat the cupcakes your sister made for me for my birthday a couple years ago than try what they were serving in the cafeteria today.”
Quinton bursts into laughter, and the tension drains out of the room.
“Shit, those things were horrible. I couldn’t even stomach eating a whole one. Scarlet worked so hard on them, and I remember your face as you ate the whole thing, acting like you loved it ’cause I told you if you made her cry, I’d punch you in the face.”
“Yeah, I’m lucky I didn’t get food poisoning.” Ren shakes his head.
I peek up from my plate at him. He’s attractive in the same way Quinton is, except unlike Quinton, who has this boyish charm, Ren doesn’t have that. He seems more mature than he should be, his features sharp, his gaze penetrating like he can see right through you.
He catches me staring, and I dart my eyes back down to my plate. Strangely, I’m not intimidated by him, not like I would be under normal circumstances. It doesn’t take me long to eat again, and I drink all the wine in my glass, letting the warmth of the alcohol spread through my limbs. Ren and Quinton talk for a bit, and I immerse myself in their conversation, feeling like we’re friends instead of me being the enemy.
After a while, my head becomes heavy, and I know the wine is affecting me. I push from the table, my legs like jelly.
It’s a bold move, but I stare at Quinton as I speak. “I think I’m going to go back to my room. Thank you for dinner. I really appreciate it. I can’t imagine how bad today would’ve been if it wasn’t for you.”
Emotions I can’t pinpoint flicker in his stormy blue eyes.
“Don’t leave yet. Come to my room with me,” he offers before I can take a step away from the table.
I should tell him no, but things feel different, and with the wine pumping through my veins, I don’t have the strength to deny him.
Instead, I whisper, “Sure.”
Then I wait for him to make the next move.