“Come on. Let’s get some food so we can get to the party.” I follow her into the diner. I’ve never been to this one before. I have to say one of my favorite things about this town is there are diners everywhere. We don’t have them back home. They have everything you can think of on the menu. It’s wonderful.
“Sit anywhere you’d like. Someone will be over with the menus in a minute.” The woman behind the counter calls out to us. I follow behind Trin so I can pull on my skirt again. I swear someone is going to see my underwear. I should have never agreed to wear this. It’s not my usual getup and I’m uncomfortable.
She slips into one side of a booth. I slide into the other, grabbing one of the menus.
“I’m ordering truffle fries and I’m not sharing so if you want some you better order your own.”
“Fine,” Trin huffs. I think she has it in her head that the food she steals off my plate doesn’t count toward her calories. I don’t know why she even diets. She’s rail thin. All of her weight has gone to her boobs. I haven’t gotten up the courage to ask her if they are real or not. I wasn’t sure if she would think it was rude or something. So I’ve held back. Anyway, that’s her business but I am curious.
“You ladies know what you want?” the woman that was behind the counter asks. Her name tag reads Betty.
“I want a strawberry shake.”
“I’ll take a Diet Coke and water please.”
“Anything else?”
“I’m still looking but can we go ahead and place an order for two truffle fries?” I ask.
“Yep.” She scribbles it all down in her notepad. “I’ll get that in for you and get your drinks.” She heads back behind the counter.
“What are you thinking?” While I love all the options you get at a diner, it can be overwhelming because I tend to want everything. Especially when I’m hungry like I am now.
“Salad.” She closes her menu, putting it back into the holder.
“A salad?” I scrunch my nose, hating her choice. With so many good things on the menu, why the heck does she have to pick a salad? That means she’ll be trying to take stuff from my plate.
“We got fries, too.”
A few moments later Betty is back with our drinks. “You know what you want?”
“A salad for me. No dressing.”
“No dressing? I think there is something seriously wrong with you.” Betty chuckles.
“I’ll take the open face meatloaf with mashed potatoes,” I say.
“Got it. What kind of vegetables do you want? We got corn, mixed and peas.”
“I’ll have the corn.” My mouth waters thinking about mixing my corn into my potatoes.
“I’ll be back with your fries in a minute.”
“How do you eat a salad with no dressing?”
“If you had a mom like mine you’d understand.” I try not to wince. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, Quinn, I forgot. I’m such an idiot sometimes,” Trin says feeling bad that she brought the mom thing up.
“It’s fine. It’s not like I knew the woman anyway. I can’t really miss her.” My dad always told me she died. It wasn’t until I was about fourteen and I started snooping around I found out he was lying. She took off on us. I wonder if it’s because my dad tends to be a little overbearing or maybe her running off has made him that way. I guess I’ll never know. I never plan on looking for her.
“Two orders of truffle fries.” Betty drops the plates down. I grab the ketchup, smothering mine with it before taking a giant sip of my milkshake. This is so much better than the school food. If I knew how to cook, I could make more stuff at home. It was never a skill I picked up. Everything we ate growing up was takeout.
I let out a small moan as I take my first bite. “This was so worth letting you dress me up.” Trin laughs, nibbling at her own fry. I think Trin’s mom is always on her about appearances. I think that’s why she’s always doing these crazy diets. She is gorgeous. I’ll never understand it.
The bell over the diner door jingles, announcing that someone has entered. I glance up, freezing with the fry halfway to my mouth. Oh crap. It’s him. Trin must see the look on my face because she turns to see what I’m staring at.
“Don’t look,” I hiss at her. She’s going to give away the fact that I’m staring. I can’t help myself. I’ve been thinking about him all day. For some reason I can’t get him out of my head. I know what that reason is: the man is drop dead gorgeous.
“Who cares that he’s a dick?” She rolls her eyes, looking back at me. “Wait. Your cheeks are all pink and it’s not the blush I put on you. Are you crushing on Mr. Asshole?”