Frankie said, “I knew it. The whole time.” He looked pissed.
Jessie said, “I totally called this.” She looked amused and hurt. It was a weird combination.
I said, “You what?”
Joe said, “No. Frankie. It’s not like that. Okay, it was, but that’s not it.”
Frankie said, “Oh, please. You only talked about Ox every second of every day.”
Jessie said, “It was always Joe, Joe, Joe.”
“Don’t you have other tables to wait on?” I asked Frankie.
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“We are best friends,” Joe said to Jessie.
“No,” Frankie said. “Slow night.”
“Oh, I was always aware of that,” Jessie said. “Even when we were dating—”
Joe pressed his foot against mine as he growled. I pressed back. I saw a flicker of orange in his eyes.
I said, “Joe.”
He looked at me.
I said, “Stay with me.”
He said, “It’s too loud.”
I took his hand. It curled into mine. I felt the pinpricks of claws.
I said, “Joe.”
He said, “I need.”
I said, “Okay.”
Frankie said, “Joe, I—”
“Walk away,” I said. “Now.”
Jessie said, “Is he okay?”
I said, “He will be. Please, just go back to your dinner.”
Frankie walked away.
Jessie turned around.
I only had eyes for Joe. Always Joe.
His nostrils flared. He said, “You’re bleeding.”
I said, “It doesn’t hurt. You would never hurt me.”
Joe said, “Ox,” and I said, “Let’s go.”