181 Days of Madeline Jesty

Chapter 25: Swagger

We settled in a restaurant outside the mall after the movie. When I reached out for the menu, Mickey stopped me to suggest eating somewhere cheaper, which then made me wonder if Mickey was saving up for something. So I followed her, and to my surprise, she led me to a well-known fast-food restaurant selling inexpensive dishes. To be honest, however, I had never eaten in one.

Almost all seats were taken, so she hurried to an empty table.

"M-Mickey, there're a lot of people here. Can't we eat somewhere else?" I insisted. I knew I sounded like a spoiled brat, but I was uncomfortable with so many people surrounding me.

"Queens should also learn about the kingdom they dominate." Mickey then winked at me before listing the limited dishes on the menu. "So . . . what you want? Chicken? Burger steak? Pasta in spaghetti sauce? Or burger with fries?"

"No salads?"

"Uh . . . nope. Wait, you've never eaten here?"

In embarrassment, my eyes widened before replying, "Quiet, you! I . . . well, my mom and I eat in restaurants, but not fast food."

"I see."

"Your family does?" I asked curiously.

"Why not?"

"Like what I've said a while ago, security. Is it not a matter in your family?"

She shook her head. "I gotta get in line now. For first-timers, try their pasta in spaghetti sauce."

"Fine."

Mickey then left to line in the counter, while I checked my phone for any messages. Of course there were plenty from Steph; she sent me selfies, with her my mom talking to Ms. Lilian as a background. I was about to check out other photos she sent when Mickey came with a brown plastic tray carrying a pasta plate, a burger, some fries in a box, one glass of cola, and one glass of pineapple juice.

As she served the dish of my liking, I started, "Can I ask you a question?"

She looked stunned as she sat. "Go ahead. What is it about?"

"Why . . . are you so experienced?"

"Experienced? Oh . . ." She leaned forward to whisper, "In bed?" When nodded, she sighed in relief. "I thought it was something else."

"What else?"

"I mean, I thought it would be a much difficult question."

"So?" Twirling the pasta, I couldn't help but be nervous of her answer . . . and I didn't know why. "Have you . . . had someone else before?"

"Oh, yes. Second year."

I hated that she was able to answer quickly, but I reminded myself, Isn't this what you want to know? Why blame it on her? "Tell me about it."

"Why? I don't like revisiting the past."

"Okay," I replied coldly. I didn't understand myself either. Why would I ask questions with answers I didn't want to hear? Answers that would surely lower my self-esteem? Maybe it was my ego wanting to find out if she was more head over heels for her past lover than me. No, not maybe. I was sure of it.

My insecurity was drowning me, and I hated it.

"I hate this," I blatantly admitted before munching a huge serving of pasta.