Page 37 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
After a few securityclearance swipes and a short walk through the quad, Jackie and I arrive at the cafeteria parking lot. Rose and Trish are part of the small crowd waiting in line at one of the food trucks set up on the side.
Yep, NASA has food trucks. They are on a rotating schedule, a different two each day of the week. It’s a clever way for Uncle Sam to cut down on the cafeteria budget. Today it’s chicken and waffles and Asian fusion.
Rose is in line for chicken, wearing Birkenstocks, denim shorts, and one of those threadbare T-shirts that like to drive men crazy. It’s a dark olive-green color, but due to the thin fabric, I can easily see her black bra underneath.
What really catches my eye, though, are her pigtails. Her wild blond hair is caught up in two low ponytails draped over her shoulders, the ends hanging right above the shadow of her bra cups. She looks both seductive and adorable.
“There you are, Flashlight.” Jules comes up behind me, clapping me on my shoulder. “And here I was thinking you were avoiding me.”
“Me?” I put my hand on my chest in a dramatic fashion. “Never.”
She snorts. “Uh huh.” She glances over to where I’m looking, a sly smile growing on her face.
Before she can ask, I close the distance between Rose and me. Jules and Jackie follow.
When I reach her, Rose is holding one of those red-and-white checkered cardboard containers, filled with a large chicken and waffle sandwich and an unhealthy helping of french fries, a can of Coke shoved in her back pocket.
She stops short when she sees me. “What are you doing here?”
“Seeing as I work here, I think I should ask you that question.”
Rose rolls her eyes.
“I was going to call you right before Jackie told me you were here.”
Her eyes cut to Jackie, who, oblivious, is now waiting in line at the Asian fusion truck. “Was and did are two different things.”
Her tone has me smiling. “Do I detect disappointment in your voice?”
“No.” She sticks out her hip, leveling me with a look of annoyance. “You detect an admonishment for not having the balls to pick up the phone.”
Jules’ eyes are bouncing between us as Trish walks over with a plate from the waffle truck.
“No balls, eh?” I raise a brow. “That’s not what you were saying Saturday night.”
Rose straightens, her eyes widening before she shoots a quick glance toward her friends, whose mouths are hanging open.
“When we were taking those Blow Job shots.”
Her shoulders relax, and she snorts again. “Yeah, it did take balls to give good head in a bar.”
“Trish!” We turn to see Ian jogging up. He takes Trish’s plate of food from her with one hand, wraps his other arm around her shoulders, and kisses the top of her head. “Hi, babe.”
Trish sinks into him. “Hi, sugar.”
It isn’t until my nostrils flare that I realize I’m annoyed. Not because Ian is here, but because he can so easily show affection to Trish. I’ve never wanted to have that level of relationship with someone before. But now that I do, I’m annoyed I can’t.
Or can I?
Mimicking Ian, I sidle up to Rose, grab her food, and drape an arm around her.
Jules smirks. “And just what—”
“Rose and I are going to eat in the quad.” I tip her basket food in the direction of the green space nearby.
Rose, looking quite unimpressed by my show of chivalry and affection, raises an eyebrow at me. “We are, huh?”
“Yep.” I kiss the top of her head, and she stiffens.
