Lola's POV

Flint took me to a nice restaurant downtown, the kind with white tablecloths and candles on every table.

He pulled out my chair for me before sitting down himself. "Order whatever you want," he said with a smile.

I looked at the menu but couldn't focus on the words. My stomach was twisted in knots.

"The pasta here is delicious," Flint suggested. "Or if you want steak, they make it perfectly."

"Pasta sounds fine," I said quietly.

Flint ordered for both of us. He was being so ...