“Pancakes and a Granny’s Special.” The waitress declared as she appeared at our table with a large tray balanced precariously on one hand. I decided then and there that waiters and waitresses deserved some sort of medal for being able to balance heavy trays. It was quite the talent.
Dean and I moved our glasses of water out of the way so she could set everything down.
I had one lone plate, while the rest of the table was covered with Dean’s.
He had a plate of eggs, bacon, toast, biscuits, hash browns, pancakes—it was a smorgasbord of everything.
“Hope you enjoy.” The waitress smiled. “I’ll be back to fill up your waters.”
“This looks like heaven.” Dean gasped, his eyes as wide as saucers, as he eyed the food lovingly. Seriously, he looked at the food like a little kid looks at a puppy—with awe and excitement.
“Good luck eating all of that.”
I grabbed the syrup and began drenching my pancakes in a bath of it.
“I don’t need luck,” he sighed dreamily, “I’ve got this.”
“It’s going to take you two hours to eat all of it.”
I cut into my pancake and took a bite.
Whoa.
Best damn pancake I ever ate.
“Don’t underestimate me.” Dean declared before shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth.
We both acted like we hadn’t eaten in five days.
By the time I was finished with my two pancakes Dean had worked his way through half of his food and was still going strong.
“I’ll leave this here for when you’re ready.” The waitress smiled pleasantly as she left the check and topped off our glasses of water.
“Uh-huh, danks.” Dean said around his mouthful of food.
I shook my head and smiled at the waitress as I mouthed, “Boys.”
“Saw that.” Dean kicked my leg.
“Good.” I stuck my tongue out at him.
Fifteen minutes later Dean pushed away his plate and grabbed his stomach. “I’m stuffed. I’m never eating again.”
I couldn’t help but snicker.
He picked up the bill and studied it before pulling out his wallet.
“I can pay,” I said, trying to grab the receipt from his hand.
He held it high above his head and laughed as I struggled.
“You already bought the snacks,” he tilted his chin up slightly in a gesture to assure me he meant business, “I’ll buy the breakfast.”
“You also bought the gas.”
“My car,” he countered.
I sighed, making one last-ditch effort to snag the receipt. He slapped it against his chest and wagged a finger on his free hand.