Aaron produces a wad of keys. They’re stood on a street corner, well into the night, and Robert thinks it’s almost odd, seeing the diner with the neon sign unlit, the streets hushed and empty.
“So, where d’you steal those from?”
“I didn’t. My maw owns the place.”
“What, that sweet thing that works the counter?”
Aaron stops midway through turning the keys on the lock, “Not letting you in if you wanna keep talkin’ about my maw.”
Robert smirks. “I’m here with you, ain’t I?”
Only a tiny light is on, the furthest away from the windows, and Robert can make out Aaron’s hair over the counter, shining faintly as he rustles around for something. He walks back to the booth and drops two cans of beer on the table with a satisfied grin.
“Thought this place was all about milkshakes and root beer floats”
“Maw keeps them in there for when the family comes round.”
They both crack them open and take a swig.
“None of the fancy stuff you drink. But I can get a glass if it’s slummin’ it too much for you.”
“‘M not complaining.”
Aaron hums, and feels Robert inch closer. His eyes drift to Robert’s lips.
