Haunt [Aidan Hunter series book 2] [RE-WRITING]

Chapter 5

Henry and I decided against the Italian restaurant. It was too ostentatious for our taste. We ended up going to Graham's, our usual diner. Its owner, after whom it was named, was an old friend. Basically, we were his top customers. He would even let us eat for free sometimes.

And he had great pasta.

A bell chimed above us as we walked in. A tall, lean man in a waiter's uniform spun around to see us. He had a small, thin moustache that suited him well.

"Ah, bonjour," he beamed. "Always a pleasure to see you again, messieurs. Was wondering when you'd drop by."

We'd grown accustomed to his loud voice and upbeat enthusiasm. He had a way of appealing to customers with his disciplined, polite demeanor, so his voice wasn't a problem. However, it was the first time he posed as a waiter.

"Always a delight, Graham," I said. "Why the hell are you dressed like that?"

"I thought I would serve my customers myself this time." He gestured to us. "Especially if they are old friends."

"Lucky us."

We took the table at the corner, next to the window, sliding into the red leather seats. In the sunlight, the blue of Henry's eyes was bright. Vivid. He hadn't the faintest idea how unbelievably striking he was. Or perhaps he did.

Graham came to us with a small notepad and a pen, straightening his black waistcoat. "Well then." He clicked the top of his pen. "Dîtes-moi, que désirez-vous?"

"Still working on your French, I see."

"It makes me more charming to the ladies."

I stifled a grin. "I see. Well, I guess we'll have the pasta and some coffee."

"Black for me," Henry said.

"Two sugars and a dash of milk in mine." I closed the menu.

"Coming right up." Graham jotted down our orders in his notepad and left. He smoothed his slicked back hair as he walked to the counter.

Very few people were in the diner, so we had some privacy. I hoped Henry would start the conversation I waited so long for. So far, he did nothing except give me brief glances and awkward smiles now and then.

I mentally sighed. Come on.

Before it could get any stranger, our food arrived. Graham placed two plates of pasta in front of us, then brought the coffee afterwards. As I dug into my pasta, I figured I should kick-start the conversation. I had a feeling he had something to say but was hiding it.

However, he spoke just as I was about to. Again.

"Actually. There's something I need to ask you."

Bingo.

I acted oblivious. "What is it?"

I forked some pasta into my mouth. He simply stared at his. The flavors were right—the right amount of spice. It tasted delicious, even though it wasn't the first time I had it. But I couldn't focus on it when he was most likely going to confess.

"What's your deal with Charlie?" he asked.

I gave him a blank stare. Seriously? I thought he was going to talk about us. And this had to be the most inappropriate subject to talk about on a date.

Rolling my eyes, I said, "I thought we discussed this."

"You can't hate someone without a reason."

"I don't hate him." I took a sip of coffee. "When I first saw him, I got strange vibes. I feel like he's gonna cause trouble."

"And you're a shining beacon of discipline."