Threefold

3| labor

"My name's Anya, by the way," she mentions confidently after giggling away her life. Who knew that I could make a person laugh so much? Only a few thought-centered words with a drop of carelessness conjoined with a wee bit of humor and BAM! You've got yourself a laughing girl.

She finishes off her turkey BLT with finger licks and crumb gatherings and all sorts of other cute shit. I'm astonished, because usually when a girl is accompanied by a man during any type of eating time, they don't actually eat. They'll stall and try to proclaim themselves as dainty characters by taking teeny bites of a salad and using napkins to conceal their messes, when in reality, they're the true men. At home, they devour food like monsters and don't even bother reaching for a napkin.

Even though she's thinner than a cracker, I like a girl that can eat messy foods and still frame it as a caviar dish.

"I'm Cameron," I render whilst gawking at her remove the remaining sauces from the plate. I can't help but laugh, because it appears that she has never eaten before.

"Cameron... This... was... delicious." Anya shoves the empty plate to the left and peers at me, "You don't even know, man."

Again, I am caught in a pool of laughter and she joins me. "Eh, I'm not too thrilled with greasy foods." I guess she and I swapped positions, because I only eat half of a roast beef sandwich.

"Well, you should be. We only live once. You should give it a try next time."

I nod and shrug my shoulders while she gulps down her soda. During this, I'm focusing all of my attention on her. Those eyes. Those lips. That beauty. And to top it off a reckless and venturesome demeanor? What a wildcard. It is an ehre to be having such a fine lunch with this woman—an honor.

For what seems like an unlimited amount of time, I keep my eyes glued on her until she concludes devouring her soda as if it is water. She belches and guffaws like a child. "Excuse me," she adds elegantly. Afterwards, she pulls her bag from her hip, plunging her hand inside in search for something.

I snatch my wallet from my back pocket and lay twenty-five bucks onto the counter, because I am well aware that this wonderful morning-noon has come to an end. In the midst of this, Anya does the same, though she disposes two tens and five ones onto the counter. "I thought I was paying?" She conjectures boldly.

"No, no," I shake my head playfully and place my hand onto my chest, "allow me."

Her face contorts and she grabs both of our bills, stacking them into one pile, "Well then somebody is getting a large tip tonight."

"Anya, I insist."

"I know and so do I, so either we don't pay or we both pay." Anya lifts an eyebrow of uncertainty. "What's it gonna be?"

I become amused by her criminal ways and snicker, "I can't tell you how much I would love to run out of here without paying, but I'd look like a total asshole to Sheila. I've been coming here far too long to be so sleazy. Plus, I live upstairs."

"Then it's settled!" She tucks the money underneath her empty plate and hops from her stool.

I can't let her leave without talking to her again. All I have is this troublesome urge to ask her for her cell phone number, but I'm petrified of denial. If she says no, I'll be suffering in humiliation and numerous other pointless bullshit tantrums. Though, effort is all that counts. Nothing beats a failure, but a try.

If she says yes, I'll feel like a million bucks.

Anya expresses her gratitude to Ebony, Sheila and Eliza and then turns in my direction, flipping her amber curls in the act of smirking brilliantly. Before I get the imprudence to ask for her phone number, or maybe another encounter, she speaks first, sealing my lips into one.