Tristan | Date II

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The line passes relatively quickly

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The line passes relatively quickly. I got two cheese pizza slices. I start walking back to the table.

"What's the time?" I ask, sitting down. Areena looks at her clock, "6:24."

Juliet should be getting out of practice by now.

"I'll get us milkshakes," Areena says, her chicken and rice nearly finished. "What flavor do you want?" She says, stepping up, "um, I don't know."

"Not a big fan of milkshakes, are we?"

"No–I'll have a vanilla milkshake," I say, "sure," she says, I pass her the card I got the starting days of summer, when the school was visiting EverLake Fair.

"How much is in this?"

"At least forty," I say, "you really brought that much?"

"Yes, I really did."

"Wait, what shop sells milkshakes?"

"The Sweets Shop sells milkshakes and whatnots."

"What'll you be getting?" I ask Areena.

"Chocolate chip cookie!"

"I'll have that next."

"Why not now?"

I stare at her. "It's my first-time trying milkshakes, and vanilla is always a safe option for me."

"Hey, can you stand the smell of vanilla because if you can't, I can go-, Areena chuckles, "yes I can, just can't taste it."

Areena walks over to the Sweets Shop.

I take a slice of the pizza, bit into the sauce part rather than the crust. It doesn't taste like how I wanted, but it didn't mean it wasn't edible.

I make it half-way before putting it down. Areena could eat the other slice if she wants.

I couldn't do it, but I had to. I grab the slice and eat it in another manner, eating the crust and then the sauce part. My throat closes as I try to swallow it. I bit into the dry part. Should have gotten water.

"They have different lines for everything," Areena voice says, I turn around to her, "yeah."

"You don't look so good," Areena says, sitting on the chair opposite of me. "I don't like what I bought so much," I say, "and now I'm going to waste food."

Areena looks at the plate, "why did you get in the first place?" I blink, "well because it reminded me of the pizza my grandmother made."

"Is she European?" Areena asks, I shake my head. "What is she?" she asks, tilting her head. "Angola."

Areena nods and extends her hand to the pizza and looks at me, "you can have it.".

"It's–egh, it's bad" she says, making a disgusted face. I chuckle.

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