Page 115 of Damaged Boys Don't Fall For Bubbly Girls
Mikey’s isn’t packed at all. I lead Finn to a booth in the back to have some privacy, and I immediately am hit with the memory of when Brock and I went to Mikey’s a few weeks ago. My lips lift in a smile when I remember the look of elation on Brock’s face when he bit into a Mikey’s burger for the first time in four years.
“I think I want to be brave and taste the extra spicy fries again,” Finn says as he slides into the booth. “Remember we almost had to call 911 after I popped like ten of them in my mouth last time? Lexi?”
I blink and snap out of it. “What? Oh, yeah. You were so red in the face.” I slide into the seat across from him.
Macy comes over with her tablet. Finn does indeed order the extra spicy fries and a burger, and I order a burger and onion rings. We both also order milkshakes.
“So…” Finn says with a smile. “What’s up?”
“The ceiling.”
He makes a face before laughing.
“The sky,” I continue. “Space. And…whatever is after space.”
“What’s down?”
“Uh…I don’t know,” I admit. “Earth’s core?”
He laughs again.
We sit in silence.
He offers me a smile. I return it.
The door opens and a tall guy with dark bangs in his eyes walks in. I perk up in my seat, my blood racing through my body. But it’s not Brock.
“You okay?” Finn asks.
“Yeah…just waiting for my burger.”
“Me, too. The service here is usually okay. I guess I’m just really hungry.”
“Same.”
We talk about a few topics as we wait for our food to arrive, but they feel a little forced. Almost like we’re both trying to make this date go well. I bet if he and I were just hanging out as friends, we wouldn’t be trying to force out conversations. Things would just flow naturally.
It’s been over a week. Should he and I have clicked by now?
I’m super relieved when our food finally arrives.
“So let’s see if you can handle the heat,” I say, nodding to the fries.
He gulps as he gapes at them. “I think I made a mistake. Want to suffer with me?” He holds out the tray.
“You know Lexi West can never say no to a challenge. Let’s do it on the count of three.”
He nods and plucks out a fry. I take one, too.
“One,” I say.
“Two,” he says.
“Three!” we both say, then pop the fries into our mouths.
It doesn’t taste bad at all—actually, it’s delicious. This is supposed to be spicy—?
Oh my gosh. Oh mygosh.
