Landon occupied the far end with Cherry — his girl, his laugh, his anchor, the one who made him bearable even when he was being his most insufferably dramatic self and she was currently feeding him a piece of mango off her own fork, in ana exaggerated public display of affection.
Landon accepted the bite with the soul-confiscated, love-captured expression like he'd surrendered entirely and was perfectly fine with the terms.
David sat beside them, alone. Poor David. Despite all of Landon's running commentary on his prospects and David's own increasingly desperate attempts to manufacture rizz, the boy had not, in fact, pulled any of the myriad women who had drifted through their orbit in the last fortnight.
He now watched Brian feed his own woman a piece of pineapple and then lean forward to kiss a stray drop of juice from the corner of her mouth with unhurried affection.
Brian, fully, irreversibly captured.
