I pick up my dress with one hand. "Waffles? Say no more."
14
DANI
Ten minutes later, we're sitting in a booth, both of us decked out in formalwear and not giving a fuck about how out of place we look. Others in the diner look drunk, or tired enough to be coming off the night shift, but we're the only ones that are clearly out of place in the crowd.
"Are you a pancakes or waffles kind of girl?" Aiden asks, not even looking up at me from where he's hunched over his menu.
I can't help marveling over the sight of him in a suit again. He's taken his jacket off, so he's left in only a white button-up shirt that he's rolled up to the elbows.
It's easily the hottest he's ever looked.
"Waffles," I answer easily. "And that's even if you hadn't introduced this place as having the best waffles."
"I'm more of a French Toast person myself," Aiden admits, looking lost in the menu options.
I can only gawk at him for a moment. "You did not just pick French Toast over waffles."
He finally looks up from the menu with a raised eyebrow. "You got something against French Toast, Dani?"
"Not unless it's keeping me from a good waffle."
He lets out an exaggerated sigh as he looks up at the ceiling. "It's things like this that make me wonder how we got as far as we did in this friendship." He waves the tired waitress down to quickly order for us: French Toast for him and a strawberry waffle for me.
"I thought you couldn't eat carbs during fight camp," I ask, handing the menus back to the waitress.
"I got eggs on the side and I'll only eat a few bites. Don't you dare snitch on me to Coach." He pauses to glare at me. "Or Tristan."
I hide my smile in my coffee. "I wouldn't dream of it."
“You think this is bad, just wait until fight week,” he grumbles.
My brow furrows in confusion. “What happens during fight week?”
“I turn to food porn.”
For a moment, I can only blink at him in answer. “I think I’m scared to ask what that means in a fighter’s world.”
“It means my entire social media page becomes filled with restaurant and cooking accounts. Donuts, pizza, cheesesteaks, you name the carb, I salivate over it. When it getsreallybad, the algorithm even makes it to Taco Bell ads.”
I’m now as confused as ever. “But you hate fast foodandMexican food.”
He lets out a lofty sigh. “I know. That’s how bad it gets.”
I try to tamp down on my laugh and fail miserably. But Aiden seems pleased by the sound, a smile lifting his lips at my reaction.
The waitress chooses that moment to appear with our food. She slides the plates in front of us, too tired to even ask which of us gets which one. I end up with the plate of French Toast in front of me, a smaller side of scrambled eggs slid to the side. Aiden gets the waffles placed in front of him.
I go to switch everything but before I get a chance, Aiden is sliding into the booth next to me. I let out a grunt of annoyance at the crowding but when he drapes an arm along the top of the booth behind me and gently hip-checks me with a playful smile, I'm suddenly not as irritated. And when he excitedly digs his fork into my waffle, every emotion is replaced with fondness.
"Still think French Toast is better?" I ask, amusement ringing in my tone.
His expression is thoughtful, even as he chews the bite. Then he lifts some of the strawberry topping to my lips, leaning in to take the piece of fruit from me before I can swallow it.
My eyes automatically flutter closed at the feeling of Aiden's lips against mine. He sucks the fruit into his mouth, but before he pulls away I feel his tongue swipe across my bottom lip, gathering the last of the juice. It's enough to make me whimper and press forward for more, even though he's already straightening with a grin.
"I may have just been converted," he says with a chuckle.