35. Arlo
Hailey’s sharply heeled boot steps into the car. Her curves practically cut the tension that the cool air filtering in does nothing to dissipate as she slides into the seat next to me. Her sheer flowing skirt slides around her knees. The green of her gaze flits about the car, taking every single thing into account in a fraction of a second.
My tight shoulders. Hota’s distant gaze, across from me. The stranger next to him, who she knows by my text is the notorious Nate.
The fucker invited Hota to lunch. Just Hota. To catch up. Wink. Wink . On Hota’s fucking dime, no less. Since that’s the only way Nate can afford a meal in this town that isn’t a dollar slice.
“Thank you, Leo.” Hailey smiles at our driver for his assistance.
“Yes, miss.” He nods and then closes the door on this tinder box.
There’s not shit wrong with a dollar slice. I love them. The problem I have is Nate’s come fuck-me eyes roving all over my man, and my man’s eyes looking anywhere but at me.
Of course, I thrust myself into their plans and Hailey too. No way I’m letting these two out of my sight.
“Nate Hatfield, this is Dr. Hailey Fitzpatrick.” I don’t put any labels on her. Our girlfriend.
Hota doesn’t know what’s going on. I thought I did up until a few hours ago. Now, I’m lost.
“Mr. Hatfield.” Hailey reaches across the void and shakes hands with the enemy.
I clench mine to keep them from ripping her away from him. Hota’s hands clench too. I can only hope it’s for the same reason.
“Please, call me Nate.” He pats her hand and slides back into his seat. “I’m sorry to interrupt your lunch date.” The bastard points at me and Hailey. “I was hoping to catch up with Hota. We lost touch after graduation.” His hand slides along the back of the seat and behind Hota’s neck. “We used to be so close.”
I barely contain the snarl scratching its way up my throat. If he touches Hota, I swear we’ll be taking a detour to the car wash to remove the blood from the seats.
“You have no social presence,” Nate says, looking at Hota.
“He may not be on social media, but he made The Times today,” Hailey offers. The tips of her red lips turn into a sinister point. “It was a marvelous article. It made me very proud.”
Hota’s eyes lift from the floor for the first time. “Really?”
“Of course, daisuki da yo.” The points of her smile file down, leaving only the tenderness of her words.
I love you.
He smiles for the first time in hours, and a weight lifts off my shoulders until his gaze slides to me. His smile falters. The weight lands on my chest.
Is he worried I’ll be upset she loves him?
I’m not. I’ve known for weeks now, even before she told him so.
I love him with my every fucking breath. Why wouldn’t she? I thought I made my feelings on the matter pretty freaking clear after the game and their exchange of I love yous.
“What’s the article about?” Nate asks, and then keys into Hailey’s words. “Wait, you speak Japanese?”
“Hota and Arlo are both fluent.” Our lover smiles at us. “I’m learning.”
“Quickly,” Hota and I both say in unison.
Nate’s gaze zeros in on me, and then slides to Hota. His mouth opens like he wants to say something. The car stops outside the restaurant and the valet opens the door.
We make our way into the fine dining establishment, where the hostess takes our coats, then escorts us directly to our table.
At the four top, I pull out Hailey’s chair for her and the others wait for her to sit. It gives me enough time to shift around the table and pull out the chair directly across from me. “Hota.”
I swear I see a smirk before he maneuvers around Nate, and then me, and sits in the chair. I help him scoot it in. I even pop the napkin and lay it on his lap.
Nate clears his throat. “Are you going to get my chair?”
“No.” I sit and greet the server who’s arrived to take our drinks.