Page 9 of Team's Omega
He laughed and strode towards the stairs.
“Fuck…” I muttered. I took a deep breath and steeled myself for the arrival of the rest of the team.
∞∞∞
“Here you go,” Jace said as he handed over a plastic container. “Nachos with extra jalapeno.”
“Thanks!” I grabbed a chip, dunked it into the vibrant orange cheese sauce and topped it with a couple jalapeno slices. “Mmmm.”
He snorted. “I don’t see how those are enjoyable when we can walk into almost any restaurant around here and get real nachos.”
I laughed. “It’s one of those guilty pleasure type foods. Horrible for you and absolute garbage, but sometimes it just hits the spot.”
“You do you, but that stuff can’t even be counted as cheese if you ask me.”
“More for me!” I laughed, then shoved another chip into my mouth.
He set a drink tray between us, then snagged a paper container filled with deep fried something.
“What sugary treat did you find for yourself?” I asked.
He grinned. “Deep fried cookies.”
“Deep fried cookies?”
He nodded and took a bite of one.
“So you’re going to judge my cheese sauce, and eat that?”
He moaned as he chewed. “Mm-hmm.”
I shook my head. “I wish I had your metabolism. I could never eat as much sugar as you do and not get fat. Any tips?”
He swallowed and chuckled. “I think I just hit the genetic lottery. My mama is super skinny too, even though she can put away more than me.”
I stared. “Your mama eats more than you?”
He nodded. “It’s not as bad now, but when I was a kid she always had to have snacks on hand. If she didn’t eat between meals she’d feel it.”
“Damn.”
He nodded. “I’m lucky that dad’s genes tempered that a bit for me.” He then popped the rest of the deep fried cookie into his mouth.
I laughed. “Tempered… sure.”
He looked about to say something else, but a cheer arose from the crowd and we turned as twenty men in purple jerseys and carrying crosses ran out onto the field.
“Here we go,” Jace said. “Sportsball.”
I chuckled and echoed his sentiment. “Sportsball.”
∞∞∞
I froze as a strong arm draped across my shoulder.
“Well cutie,” Nate asked, “what did you think?”
“I… um…” I stammered. “Congrats on the win?”
