Oh. She hadn’t thought about paparazzi. Nervously, she stepped closer to Tony, hiding a little behind him. “Fair warning,” she muttered, “I look like crap in photographs.” She just knew her face was red, clashing with her hair. But, after all, this was Tony Stark. If they were friends this would happen. She had to accept it.
Tony, completely oblivious to Summer’s apparent discomfort, continued to encourage the photographers. He yelled, flashed peace signs and hugged Summer close to his side, almost as if he were showing her off. Finally, Happy cleared his throat loud enough for the playboy to hear. Tony rolled his eyes and said his goodbyes to the paparazzi before leading Summer inside. It had become routine for Tony to taunt any nearby photographers. Most of the time the girls he was with were looking to be shown off but he hadn’t thought to change his routine to meet Summer’s needs. “The regular table,” he grinned at the waiter before he and Summer were directed to a small corner booth in the back of the restaurant. Most of the nearby tables were empty as Tony slid smoothly into the leather booth seat, leading Summer behind him.
Summer shoved herself into the farthest back corner of the booth. She forced herself to take deep breaths, feeling light-headed, nausea roiling in her gut. She put her head down on the table, closing her eyes. “Oh god. God. Can you — can we — warn me?”