53
Bella Swan/fancy food is for the birds
The texture of couscous is not for me. Period.
Edward's enjoying whatever he ordered when I feel it.
His foot taps mine and then wraps around my good calf.
"Edward," I warn, kicking him away.
He pulls back and twirls some pasta around his fork.
"You know, when I was in high school, Jasper showed up at one of my games and pulled my parents aside." He offers me the bite.
I take it, and it's so much better than this gritty shit on my plate.
"I've never been scouted, but I imagine that's how it works," I shrug.
"He had us come check out the campus and brought us to Monroe's. It was right over there"—he points to a table closer to the door—"that he produced his first offer, and that's when the fun started."
"Fun?"
Edward nods.
"Mom and Dad hired a lawyer, and there was a lot of back and forth. Changing things until everyone was happy with the final product. I think we should try that."
"A contract?"
"No. Renegotiating terms."
Oh.