Page 47 of When You Had Me Adapting

“Hey,” Chris answers.

“Hi, I’m so sorry I’m late. I just parked. Work was crazy, but I’m here.”

“You’re fine. I’m standing near the Cajun truck. I’ll see you in a few.” We hang up and I make my way through the crowd of people. He’s standing next to a truck with a large crawfish on the side, still wearing his scrubs.

“If I had known you were going to be in your scrubs, I wouldn’t have changed out of mine,” I laugh.

He pulls me into a hug and plants a quick kiss on my cheek. “What are you hungry for?”

I glance around the lot where all the trucks are parked. Across the way is a blue and white Greek truck. “Do you like gyros?” I ask.

He nods and we walk over, joining the long line. The heat radiates off the asphalt and the air is a mix of different types of fried food and truck exhaust. “Gosh, it’s hot.”

“Yeah, starting to think you had the right idea with changing.” He looks down at his black scrubs. “So, how was your day?”

“It was good. We found out a couple of the residents are dating and they’re absolutely adorable. How was yours?”

“Fine.”

“That’s good.” There’s a lag in the conversation and I shift my weight back and forth. The line starts to move. My phone pings and I look down.

Poppy: I know you’re on your date, but do you know where the caramel sauce is?

Lacey: I finished it off yesterday.

Poppy: You traitor! What am I supposed to put on top of my ice cream?

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Oh yeah, just my roommate,” I say, putting the phone back in my bag.

Music starts to play and a few people abandon the line in front of us. After what feels like an hour we finally make it to the front. I order a gyro with fries and extra tzatziki and he orders a gyro with fruit on the side. We pay separately. Once we have our food, we move through the crowd until we find a table.

I place a few fries on top of my sandwich and take a bite.

“Is that good?” he asks.

“What the gyro? Yeah it’s delicious, you should try yours.”

“No, the fries on top?”

“So, good,” I say around a big bite. “Want some fries?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll stick to my side of fruit.”

“Suit yourself.” I search my head for something else to talk about. Tonight feels different than the other times we’ve hung out and I’m not sure what’s going on with him. “So, do you like to read?” I ask, trying to move the conversation along.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s alright.”

“Oh, I love it. What kind of books do you like?”

“Mostly historical non-fiction. You?”

“Romance. I’m a sucker for a happily ever after.” I smile, but he scowls. “Not a fan of romance, I guess?”

“Can’t say that I am. They’re a little silly, don’t you think?”

“Silly?” I quickly try to fix my tone, but his comment annoys me and I’m offended. “What do you mean?”

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