Choose Wisely

Chapter Sixteen: A Deviation of Direction

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West's POV

"You like fries right?" I asked Natalia Vanderley as we entered one of my favourite cafe haunts. When the Choice counselors had called me with a request- maybe demand was the better word- that I should arrange a date with my Choice, I had immediately substituted Fry High as the venue. The counselor on the other line had remained politely skeptical and offered another but I had refused.

Fry High might have had a name that could have fitted a drug outlet but it was somewhere my father had taken me for years before he died, a secret we shared between us because if Mum found out I was sneaking greasy chips past her health regime, she would have ripped into me. I was comfortable here so if Natalia was just going to sit here for soundless minutes, I could at least remember better times.

"They're fine," she responded vaguely, her words quick and hurried as if the sound of her voice would make me snatch her up and carry her off. The image was briefly comical and I laughed lightly. She didn't react to it, only stood to the side, looking anywhere but me. I sighed.

Besides: if the conversation was lacking, the fries would almost make up for it entirely.

"Sit right over here," a surly-looking worker directed us to our seats. His eyes skimmed up and down the Vanderley girl's body, resting in places easily as if he had the right to. My fist wanted to educate him it wasn't his right but generally, I didn't like relying on violence to get my point across.

Dad had given me lessons on how to defend myself when I was younger- it was a rough place living in the slums of Gracesia after all- so I knew very well how to throw a punch and even better how to make it hurt. I also had been taught when words would suffice.

"I think you're paid to serve the customers not stare at them," I said pleasantly, contrasting with my icy smile, as I sat down in one of the booths. The woman in question startled, her eyes gripping onto the irritated worker then sliding into the booth next to me, a flash of surprise seen in her green eyes before they were covered with her dark hair.

He grunted and retreated, his wordplay perhaps not as up to standard as his actions. My hands flickered over a menu, skimming through the options. A jittery edge had bitten into my mind: was this cafe really the best idea? It didn't create the best first impression when one's first date was set at the venue of a fry-up.

"What are you thinking of having?" I asked her, trying to remain smoothly casual. Smoothly casual was not my style. Clumsy was more entwined with my spirit. The only co-ordinated movement I had ever excelled at was dancing and that was because of many torturous hours Rebecca would force me to lead her around the room in a waltz, trying to mimic the first time she would dance with one of her Choices.

"Well, there's salted fries..." Natalia replied, her eyes skipping down the menu. "Then, there's spiced fries. The oregano and tumeric fries might be a winner though. I'm going to take a leap of faith and go for the spiced fries. It's a little off my normal salted ones but hey, try something new every day right?"

"I think you're a little too bold for me," I joked, sucking in my breath. "Me, I was going to go for my normal order of salted fries. You know, Natalia Vanderley, I think you're a little too much for me to handle."

That managed to make her smile, the corners of her lips peeking out upwards in what I construed as a hopeful gesture. Her brown hair swept over one side of her face as she purveyed the menu, intent on the right choice. I had a feeling it was less about whether oregano fries or chips with a side of fried chicken was the way to go but more about how her hands were trembling.