That stupid smile only gets bigger. I shake my head, thankful for my sunglasses still perched on my face, because I didn’t want him to see the childish eye roll I just gave him.

I walk up to the counter. “It’s been a while,” Sam says, coming back from the kitchen.

“I know, I know.” I lean on the counter. “Miss me?”

“Every damn day.” I see a shadow loom over me, and Royce has his hands folded over his chest.

His smile is gone now, and he looks pissed. I ignore him and go back to talking to Sam. Sam has owned the Taco Hut for as long as I can remember. My mom and dad would bring us up here a lot after school when we were kids. Then Penelope and I started coming on our own. We even studied for some of our finals in here while devouring late-night snacks. Sam always gave us homemade churros that were to die for.

“Don’t mind him,” I say when I see Sam eyeing Royce. “He doesn’t know about boundaries. But I just met him today, so he could just be an asshole.”

Sam smirks but gives Royce a glare. I hear Royce grunt something, but I don’t catch it.

“How am I going to stay in business if your taco addiction is fading?” Sam teases.

“Blame Henry. He’s the one working me to death.”

Sam shakes his head. “Haven’t seen him for a few months either.”

“Because he knows I love this place and he’s avoiding me right now. Do you have any fresh churros?” I ask, giving him my best smile. I want something sweet for later when I’m at work tonight and have nothing to eat. Tacos don’t hold well, but the sugary dessert will.

“I think I may have a few,” Sam says, his eyes softening. “Only for you, though.” He shoots a look at Royce.

“Perfect, and I’ll take my usual,” I add.

“All right, eight tacos with extra cheese and sour cream.”

I hear Royce cough and mutter, “Eight?”

I look at him and shrug. “They aren’t giant. Kinda like mini tacos. They fry the shells, too, so they’re crispy little heaven-sent morsels of pleasure.” I can’t stop the moan that escapes me when I talk about them. God, it’s been too long.

“If they can make you make that sound, I’ll take eight, too,” he says, his smile back in place.

I turn in the other direction. I don’t want to face him because I can feel my cheeks burn. That did not just happen. “I’ll have a Diet Coke, too, and he’s buying.”

Sam chuckles and heads back to the kitchen. I go find a table outside and sit down. Royce follows me, setting my Coke down in front of me while taking a sip of his water.