"What was that?" I yelled towards Ethan as we drove back to the Inn.
Ethan just looked at me with his eyebrows up and turned his focus back to the road. "My brother has a very short fuse and well...sometimes he cannot control it."
"No kidding!" I shot back folding my arms. I was still pissed about Luca ruining what could've been a pretty decent afternoon. Now, I was in a foul mood, and honestly, no matter how annoyingly hot that jerk was, I'd be perfectly fine never seeing him again.
"Look, he's not a bad guy," Ethan said, trying to defend him. "He's actually nice when he wants to be."
"Uh-huh, sure," I shot back, though I kept my tone in check. As much as I wanted to trash talk Luca, I wasn't about to bad-mouth Ethan's brother in front of him. I barely knew either of them, and I was the new kid in town. Not exactly looking to make enemies on day one. But Luca? He definitely stomped all over my nerves and somehow made me out to be the problem. Dick.
Ethan looked over, clearly catching the scoffing sounds I was making, and chuckled. "He really got to you, huh?" His smirk was annoyingly cute.
"Ethan, I don't just go around hitting people for fun, okay?" I groaned, sinking into the seat. "He's literally the first person I've ever hit in my life, so I don't even know what the hell came over me." I mean, one minute I was mad, and the next? Boom. My fist was flying. Where did that even come from? I'm barely five-foot-nothing—this whole thing didn't make sense.
"You just zoned out again, didn't you?" Ethan huffed, pouting at me.
I blinked. "Uh, yeah, sorry, what did you say?"
"I said, do you wanna grab a bite to eat on the way to the Inn? I know this cool place I could introduce you to," Ethan suggested with a hopeful grin, like he was dangling a kitten in front of me.
I raised an eyebrow. "Well, as long as it doesn't involve me throwing any more punches or dodging weird growls, I'm in. Maybe food will salvage what's left of this charming afternoon."
Ethan chuckled, clearly enjoying my attempt at humor, and soon after, he pulled into the parking lot of a small roadside diner. The neon sign flickered, and the building looked like it had been plucked right out of a 50s movie. It had this kitschy charm to it that actually made me smile.
"Are you secretly 50 years old?" I laughed.
"Hey! Even a twenty one year old guy can enjoy classics. Welcome to Greasy Spoon Heaven," Ethan said with a grin, opening the door for me. The smell of burgers, fries, and questionable decisions blew out to greet us.
"Wow," I muttered, glancing around as we stepped inside. "Are we in a time warp? Should we be looking out for Elvis or something?"
He smirked. "Maybe. But I bet the burgers are as good as they were in the 50s."
"Is that supposed to be a selling point?" I shot back with a laugh as we slid into a booth. "Because I'm about two bites away from eating this napkin if you don't order soon."
Ethan waved over the waitress, a cheery older woman with a nametag that read Flo. "Two menus, Flo," Ethan said with a wink.
"Oh, sweetheart, you won't need those. Just trust me. I know what's good here," Flo replied, scribbling something down. "How do you feel about burgers?"
"Is that a trick question?" I asked. "Bring it all. And fries. And maybe some pie—no, definitely pie."
Ethan chuckled. "Go easy, Quinn. We don't want Flo to faint back there from the sheer size of your order."
I shrugged. "I warned you I was starving."
After Flo disappeared to relay my five-course meal request, Ethan leaned back, eyeing me with a smirk. "You really could eat the whole menu, couldn't you?"
I raised a brow. "Listen, after the day I've had, this diner might be the only thing keeping me from committing murder."
"Fair point," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. "At least save the murder until after dessert."
Flo soon returned with towering plates of food that looked almost too good to be real. I dove in like I hadn't eaten in weeks, taking an enormous bite of my burger.
"So," Ethan said between bites, eyeing me with amusement, "you planning on slowing down any time soon, or should I get Flo to start boxing up the entire kitchen?"
I pointed a fry at him. "Hey, don't judge me. I'm eating my feelings."
"What feelings? You just knocked a dude out and survived. You should be on top of the world," he teased.
I narrowed my eyes. "Says the guy who was this close to wetting his pants earlier."
Ethan snorted into his soda. "Hey, I was more concerned for my brother's well-being after you Hulk-smash punched him. That was impressive, by the way. Remind me to never get on your bad side."
We both laughed, the awkwardness melting away as the conversation flowed. Somewhere between the second basket of fries and halfway through the pie, I noticed something shift. His hand brushed against mine as we both reached for the ketchup, and instead of pulling away, he left it there for a second, just long enough to make my pulse quicken.
"So," he said softly, his eyes lingering on mine a beat too long. "We're calling this a successful recovery from the afternoon of chaos, right?"
I smiled, feeling the warmth rise to my cheeks. "Yeah… I guess food really does solve everything."
"Well," he said, his voice lower now, "I'm glad I could at least turn the day around for you."
There was something different in the way he looked at me now, a flicker of something more than playful banter. It hung in the air between us, subtle but it was there. I found myself leaning in just a little, our hands still casually brushing against each other on the table. Maybe it was the cozy atmosphere of the diner, the food, or the fact that after everything, I kind of liked his stupid grin.
"Maybe I'll let you buy me another burger sometime," I said, my voice playful but softer.
Ethan's grin widened. "Oh, it's a date then."