We’ll see about that, Cas thought, glancing up at Iris with an amused expression when she poked his arm. Though her touch was playful, it still sent butterflies flitting in his stomach. It was familiar and warm, like a comforting place that he longed to return to; yet at the same time, it was electrifying after they had gone an entire week without being near each other. He bit his lip as he keyed the information into the checkout on his phone, finding it ridiculously hard not to reach out to close the distance between them. He wished they could be alone and inwardly regretted sending her to stay with Miles during the lockdown.
“Luigi’s makes plain pizzas too, but we never order those,” he told her succinctly when she commented on the suggestions he and Miles had made. In the capital, only children ate the bland options provided by restaurants, while adult high borns were expected to have more refined palates. They were all raised on the richest spices and seasonings the world had to offer, and as a result, almost everyone acquired expensive taste by the time they were fifteen or sixteen years old. After that, they ordered the gourmet dishes not just because it was expected of them but also because they genuinely enjoyed the flavorful recipes.
“Yeah, after you try these, you’ll never want to go back,” Miles promised her confidently. He was a little surprised that Iris had limited herself to cheese and tomato pizzas all her life, but he guessed that she had just never been pushed to try the toppings that were better. If the people outside the capital didn’t dine on gourmet food at every meal like the high borns did, maybe her family had never even given her the chance to get out of her comfort zone with unique dishes. “If you don’t think the pizza is good, I will literally give you two hundred credits and chug the whole ass bottle of champagne,” he added, slapping one hand on the sofa beside him with unnecessary emphasis.
“Damn, now I kinda hope she hates it,” Cas snickered, hitting the key to submit their order and putting his phone away. All they had to do now was wait for the driver to arrive with their lunch.
“She won’t,” Miles grinned confidently. “I’m certain of it. I’ve never met a single soul that didn’t think Luigi’s makes the best pizza in Aspiria.”
“We’ll find out then,” Cas shrugged, his eyes tracking Iris’s movements as she went back to the sofa and sat down. Though it was irrational, he felt a pang of disappointment, wishing she would have stayed by his side a little longer. Her visit to his chair had been so short that he couldn’t tell if it had been an excuse to get close to him or if she had really just done it to read the restaurant’s menu over his shoulder. For the second time that morning, insecurity simmered beneath his skin, and he shifted his weight uncomfortably.
To make it worse, as soon as Iris sat down, Miles threw an arm over the back edge of the sofa behind her. The gesture would have been incredibly discreet if not for the fact that he had been flirting with her rather overtly just minutes before. However, because he knew exactly what his friend was thinking, Cas seethed with silent jealousy and glanced toward the bedroom door to tear his eyes away from them. Part of him was tempted to ask if something had happened between them, if only for the sake of clearing the air, but he didn’t trust himself to approach the topic without revealing his own interest in Iris.
Tense with anxiety and unsure how to deal with it around them, he rose abruptly from his seat and then cleared his throat. “Speaking of champagne, I’ll go get a bottle from the kitchen for you,” he offered, masking his desire to get away with a reasonable favor.
“Okay, thanks,” Miles nodded. “We’ll be here.”
You don’t have to remind me, the prince thought, biting down on the tip of his tongue to stifle the petty words. Needing some time alone, he stepped out of the room and strode to the kitchen without making eye contact with the maids he passed by in the halls.
“Luigi’s makes plain pizzas too, but we never order those,” he told her succinctly when she commented on the suggestions he and Miles had made. In the capital, only children ate the bland options provided by restaurants, while adult high borns were expected to have more refined palates. They were all raised on the richest spices and seasonings the world had to offer, and as a result, almost everyone acquired expensive taste by the time they were fifteen or sixteen years old. After that, they ordered the gourmet dishes not just because it was expected of them but also because they genuinely enjoyed the flavorful recipes.
“Yeah, after you try these, you’ll never want to go back,” Miles promised her confidently. He was a little surprised that Iris had limited herself to cheese and tomato pizzas all her life, but he guessed that she had just never been pushed to try the toppings that were better. If the people outside the capital didn’t dine on gourmet food at every meal like the high borns did, maybe her family had never even given her the chance to get out of her comfort zone with unique dishes. “If you don’t think the pizza is good, I will literally give you two hundred credits and chug the whole ass bottle of champagne,” he added, slapping one hand on the sofa beside him with unnecessary emphasis.
“Damn, now I kinda hope she hates it,” Cas snickered, hitting the key to submit their order and putting his phone away. All they had to do now was wait for the driver to arrive with their lunch.
“She won’t,” Miles grinned confidently. “I’m certain of it. I’ve never met a single soul that didn’t think Luigi’s makes the best pizza in Aspiria.”
“We’ll find out then,” Cas shrugged, his eyes tracking Iris’s movements as she went back to the sofa and sat down. Though it was irrational, he felt a pang of disappointment, wishing she would have stayed by his side a little longer. Her visit to his chair had been so short that he couldn’t tell if it had been an excuse to get close to him or if she had really just done it to read the restaurant’s menu over his shoulder. For the second time that morning, insecurity simmered beneath his skin, and he shifted his weight uncomfortably.
To make it worse, as soon as Iris sat down, Miles threw an arm over the back edge of the sofa behind her. The gesture would have been incredibly discreet if not for the fact that he had been flirting with her rather overtly just minutes before. However, because he knew exactly what his friend was thinking, Cas seethed with silent jealousy and glanced toward the bedroom door to tear his eyes away from them. Part of him was tempted to ask if something had happened between them, if only for the sake of clearing the air, but he didn’t trust himself to approach the topic without revealing his own interest in Iris.
Tense with anxiety and unsure how to deal with it around them, he rose abruptly from his seat and then cleared his throat. “Speaking of champagne, I’ll go get a bottle from the kitchen for you,” he offered, masking his desire to get away with a reasonable favor.
“Okay, thanks,” Miles nodded. “We’ll be here.”
You don’t have to remind me, the prince thought, biting down on the tip of his tongue to stifle the petty words. Needing some time alone, he stepped out of the room and strode to the kitchen without making eye contact with the maids he passed by in the halls.