Page 7 of Between Here and There

Joshua

We’re crossing the street to the burger place, and I catch myself glancing over at her every few steps.

“I’m really hoping they have potato wedges,” she says, almost like it’s a dealbreaker. “And I’m definitely getting one of those big-ass burgers,” she puts her hands on top of each other to show how tall the imaginary burger is. “Three patties, minimum. You know, the kind that you have to unhinge your jaw for?”

“We’re not even at the door yet, and you’re already thinking of your order,” I laugh, raising an eyebrow at her.

“That’s called planning ahead,” she counters with mock seriousness. “This way, by the time we get there, I already have my order figured out. Efficient. Strategic.”

As she launches into a surprisingly passionate monologue about why wedges are the superior fry cut—they have “maximum potato-to-crisp ratio,” she explains with a wave of her hand—I feel this weird combination of excitement and… well, dread. It’s almost alarming how much I’m enjoying this.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun just getting a meal with someone. She isn’t even my usual type. She’s too sharp, too quick to call me out. Most people tiptoe around me, and most women flirt with me, but she just... met me head-on. Usually, it’s all easy small talk to get to the next part of the night, but with her? There’s this lightness. I don’t feel like I have to be ‘on’ or impress her. And yet I want to.

I hold the door open for her as we enter the diner, and we’re greeted by dim lights and quiet conversations. We walk over to the booth in the far end as she looks at me and glances at the table we just passed. She subtly points her index finger and mouths the words ‘potato wedges’ with a smile.

I mirror her smile, once again drawn to her. It’s messing with my head, making me think about things I don’t usually let myself consider. Like, maybe… coming back here with her a second time.

CHAPTER FIVE

Emily

He leads us to a booth and motions for me to get in. I oblige, and he slides down the seat in front of me. The diner smells like fried food and coffee, it’s perfect. This, I think, is my escape for the night. Just the right kind of a normal, unremarkable evening to give me a break from my usual reality.

As we wiggle our way into the booth, our knees accidentally brush; he looks at me with a smile, then hands me the menu. Since I am in my element of not making calculated decisions, I choose the largest, dirtiest, most outrageous burger and milkshake combo I can find.

“Still having a hard day?” the guy asks.

“Try a hard life.” I smile sarcastically.

As our orders arrive, I’m stunned. I’ve started getting used to the portion sizes in New York, but they still catch me off guard every time. Then again, with a meal called the ‘King Kong Combo,’ it shouldn’t be surprising to see a burger as big as my face and a milkshake as tall as my arms propped up. But it’s okay, I guess. I’m here for the wedges. I press my lips together and look at the guy in front of me, whose smirk mirrors my growing discomfort.

He reaches for his order—a decent-sized double cheeseburger—and looks at me. I make a move to reach for my mountain burger, and—oh my God, is that mac and cheeseinsidethe burger?I eye his food and wish that I ordered that instead. This is going to be the death of me.

That’s what you get for letting loose, Emily.I guess I could just have it for takeout? But the buns are already soggy, and I think it’s sticking there.

“I can practically hear the gears turning in your head,” he asks suddenly. “And your death stare isn’t exactly subtle. Want to trade?” he offers, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“You’ll eat this monstrosity?” I cringe.

“Yeah, how bad can it be?” He immediately swaps our orders without hesitation, bless him.

I watch as he takes a bite of the thing. To my surprise, his eyes light up with shock and delight.

“Okay, I take it back,” he says around a mouthful. “This is insane, but in a good way.”

I laugh, relieved. “Better you than me.”

He grins and nods toward my much more manageable double cheeseburger. “How’s the sane option?”

“Perfect,” I reply, taking a bite. It’s delicious, comforting even—exactly what I needed.

For a moment, we eat in silence, the noise of the diner filling the gaps. I steal glances at him between bites, noticing how relaxed he seems, even as he tackles the absurd burger like it’s no big deal. It’s kind of cute, actually.

“I’ve never done this before.” I confess as I take another bite.

“Eat a burger?” he asks, confused.

I chuckle. “No. Get dinner with a random stranger who saw my outburst.”

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