Maybe it’s how pushy he’s been lately. Or has he always been that way and I’m only noticing it because I can sense the distinct differences between how I feel for him versus how I feel for the five men that have just re-entered my world? It would be smart to just talk through things once and for all.
But what if he gets mad again? That was a little scary to witness.
“Oh. All right. Yes. I mean, sure. We can talk. Let me grab you a drink really quick while you peek at the menu and after I get your food order, we can chat for a minute.”
“Do you have a break soon?”
“I actually just finished it when I walked out to greet you. Sorry,” I offer lamely. My half assed apology sucks and we both know it. “What can I get you to drink?”
“I’m good with water, and I don’t need to look at the menu. I’ll have the Sunday Special you guys have on the chalkboard up front.”
“Can’t go wrong with Papa’s balls!” I quip before thinking it through. “Oh my gosh, I mean the spaghetti and meatballs,” I correct, feeling my face flush in embarrassment.
He laughs and lets me off the hook with his own joking demeanor. “Any man that says he doesn’t love some tasty balls, is straight up lying to you AJ. I’m not too insecure to admit it,” he says with a wink.
“Ha, yeah. I’ll be right back with your water,” I say, ignoring the hint of flirtation and nod once, awkwardly, as if to punctuate my statement.
Turning on my heel, I make my way to place his order and grab him some water. By the time I get back I’m still incredibly embarrassed by my slip of tongue. The last thing I want to do is make him think I’m flirting or something. I really can’t handle him thinking he has an open invitation to make any more advances. It’s just my luck that he looks more determined than anything and the last of my good mood vanishes.
Fan-freaking-tastic.
“Here you go,” I say, placing his water on the table in front of him. “So, what’s up?” I ask cautiously.
“Actually, I wanted to apologize first and foremost. I think it’s safe to say that my behavior lately hasn’t been great, and my attitude has been worse. You don’t deserve that.”
“Oh, wow. Thank you,” I reply, shocked by the swift attitude adjustment. Hopefully this is a permanent change for him.
“Is it true that you’re with one of those guys, now?” he asks, and all my previous hope vanishes within a matter of seconds.
“What?”
He grabs his phone from his jacket pocket and pulls up some tabloid website.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
“This is you. The pictures aren’t great but I’d know you anywhere. You’re Ainsley James Dylan and this is why I’ve never stood a chance,” he spits out angrily. Once again, the change in his mood throws me for a loop.
“Wait,what?”
What about me being who I am screams “too good for you”?
I want to scream at him. I want to absolutely lose it.
“It makes sense now. Why would you want someone like me when you’re famous? I’m a nobody.”
He never stood a chance, that much is true, but it never once had anything to do with him outside of maybe wanting better for him. My heart has always belonged to five boys who stole it straight from my chest before we’d even made it to puberty.
“Ranger, no. Just… no.”
“Are you with one of them?”
“I—”
“Just tell me the truth, I can handle it,” he urges, but the look in his eyes says otherwise.
I know I need to be honest with him, but what can I say? Actually, I’m with all of them? That’s a hard pass. The last thing we need is for the media to catch wind of that and create a PR nightmare.
“It’s complicated. They, uh, they want me to join the band.” I have to refrain from cringing at the dismissal of what we are, and at least I’m not lying.
