Chapter 137
137:
Meanwhile, Dylan and Elliott squared off in a silent duel, neither willing to show weakness or break eye contact, as if this were a test of nerves as much as charm.
With a decisive breath, Christina made her choice. She handed the menu to Dylan, her familiarity with him just tipping the balance. “Pick your food.”
Then, without skipping a beat, Christina motioned for Davina to take another menu and passed it along to Elliott. “Go ahead—order whatever you want,” she said lightly.
The second Dylan got his hands on the menu, a flicker of satisfaction crossed his lips—quickly masked, but not quite invisible.
Elliott’s expression darkened, the edges of his composure fraying with each passing second. Noticing Dylan’s barely concealed smirk only heightened his frustration.
“What’s the holdup? Go on and order already,” Christina urged. “Once you’re done, the rest of us will pick something. Let’s just finish placing the orders quickly, eat, and get some rest.”
Weariness crept in after a long, demanding day. The adrenaline from the car race had faded, and with it, the last reserves of her energy seemed to vanish.
Despite his irritation, Elliott resigned himself to scrolling through the menu, fingers tapping clumsily at the unfamiliar options.
Neither Elliott nor Dylan was comfortable with this sort of food. They struggled to make their choices as they scanned through the menu, hesitant and full of awkward pauses.
Watching their struggle, Christina stifled a sigh. Letting them choose their own food had been a mistake. She’d have finished twice as quickly just handling it herself. No doubt about it, both men had been brought up with silver spoons—years of elegant dinners where waitstaff anticipated every whim. No wonder navigating a pizza menu had them tripping over themselves.
Concern flickered through Christina’s mind—how would their delicate appetites cope with the non-organic food? If either one wound up with a stomachache, she’d feel at least a little guilty for dragging them into this pizza joint.
𝓣𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓽𝓸 ⲅ𝓪𝓁𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝓈⧸𝓬𝓸𝓶
Davina, on the other hand, looked on with gleeful indifference. Their prospective digestive issues were their own problem. So long as she and Christina were enjoying the meal, nothing else mattered.
Elbows propped on the table, Davina watched with a satisfied, cat-like grin. Her best friend was in her element—expert at keeping tempers cool and everyone content. Christina could run a harem and never break a sweat.
Meanwhile, Christina had no inkling of Davina’s running commentary. When the two men finally finished muddling through their orders, she took back the menu and expertly added a few extra dishes, making sure everyone would have plenty to share.
Elliott seized the moment, shifting the conversation toward racing. His words tumbled out effortlessly, and laughter soon filled the space between them, as though they were old friends catching up after years apart. There was an immediate, easy rapport—each story or joke landing perfectly, the air alive with energy.
Dylan’s brows furrowed with each passing minute. Time and again, he seemed ready to jump in, only to fall silent as the conversation moved past him.
A sudden, theatrical cough cut through the noise—Ralphy’s not-so-subtle way of grabbing attention.
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