PLS DONT READ THIS IT ONLY FOR ME THANK YOU

HOW WE MET

You guys are so cute!"

I was sitting at a lunch table with my friends, Candace, Tessa, Rebecca and Priscilla, and my boyfriend, Brady. My friends were obsessing over us, fawning over how "cute" we were. Their words, not mine.

Brady places his arm around my shoulder. "Well, yeah, because I have the perfect girlfriend; of course we would be perfect."

"Shut up," I say teasingly, blushing a little bit.

"Aww!" my friends squeal. I chuckle at their enthusiasm.

"How did you guys get together?" Tessa asks.

"Oh, you know, she asked me out on an epic motorcycle trip," Brady smirks cockily. "It was an epic date."

I scoff at him and then turn to my friends. "We didn't go on a motorcycle trip. We saw each other at Panera. Plus, it wasn't a date. It was an accidental meeting."

"Accidental?" Brady raises an eyebrow.

"Completely," I state.

"I'm guessing Mikaykay is going to tell us a story now," Candace comments dimwittedly.

I nod. "You read my mind, Candace."

I walk into Panera. The warm air greeted me, which felt very different from the cool air outside. It was cold enough to wear a heavy jacket, but not cold enough for a puffy winter coat. So, to say the warm air felt amazing would be an understatement.

I arrived alone, due to the fact that my parents were on a business trip, again. They left me 15 dollars on the counter, which I saw just an hour ago. And I decided to blow it all today.

I walk up to the cash register, swerving through the ropes left there to manage a line, if there was one. But there isn't. It is dinnertime though; maybe it's just a slow day today.

"Hi. Can I have a large mac and cheese and a cinnamon bagel?"

She eyes me weirdly, but then types it into the computer. "Apple, bread, or chips?"

"Chips," I answer. Honestly, I don't care about what she thinks about me. I don't really care what anyone thinks about me, for that matter. But considering she's judging me when we're still basically strangers, she probably judges everyone she sees on the streets.

I can see her glare at me, even though my attention is fixated on my purse. "And your cinnamon bagel, would you like it toasted?"

"No thank you," I answer, trying to be as polite as I can be to the cash register lady, because honestly, she's getting on my last nerves. I hate it whenever my bagel or bread is toasted. Call me psycho, but I just prefer the original taste, before it was toasted.

The lady smiles to herself faintly, as if she's agreeing with me. Finally. "Any spread?"

"Cream cheese," I smile in relief.

"What kind?" she asks me.

"Plain," I answer, and then quickly add, "Nonfat."

She goes back to judging me, raising an eyebrow. It's official: I don't understand her. At all. "14.92," she says blandly.

I smile. That's perfect. I hand her my 15 dollars, and she gives me back 8 cents. I contemplate whether I should put it in the tip jar or not, but then I smirk internally. Never going to happen.

She hands me a sensor. "Place this on your table, and then we'll bring your food right to you," she smiles fakely at me. "We hope you enjoy your meal!"

I smile fakely back at her, but once my back is to her, I roll my eyes and scoff. She is SO not worth my time. Then, I try to find a table. This place is usually always busy at this time, so sometimes it takes a few minutes to obtain a seat.