I walk into the low class, semi-dirty restaurant that Marty drove us to in her conveniently low class, semi-dirty minivan. My father would be proud to see that I've somehow managed to obtain some manners and chivalry. I opened both the car door for her and restaurant door. The thanks I got was a roll of the eyes and an annoyed sigh. I guess some girls who've never someone had do chivalrous acts to them don't accept them well.
"Marty Hunter?" The woman behind the counter asks, and Marty waves hello, "You want the usual?"
Instead of answering, Marty leads me to a booth and pushes me down in the seat across from her. Sweet, guess I don't have to pull her chair out for her.
"You come here often?" She looks up from her menu with narrowed eyes. Now, I'm confused. Why does she look so pissed about a question? Her eyebrows etch together, and her forehead gains at least six more creases.
She's attractive, I'll give her that, but there's something off about her. I don't know if it's her 'I'm not like other girls' attitude or if it's her face. Either way, I'm definitely NOT excited to be on a date with her anymore.
"Course not." She grumbles and looks back down at her menu, "I don't like their food."
"Then why do you have a usual?" I ask.
If she's going to ignore what the woman asked her about her usual, and pretend that it totally didn't happen, then fine, but I don't have to. I'm not really understanding the big deal here. It's just an order?
Oh my god. What if she's a murderer? Or a Serial Rapist or something? And this is the restaurant she takes her victims to before she commits atrocious crimes??? It's a good thing I'm religious. I could just pray myself out of this situation.
(Usually it works because God and I are kind of tight. Obviously, you must be thinking 'How can you be tight with God if you're gay and God hates gays'? Let's just be clear-- some random a-hole wrote the Bible, and I'm not taking anything a dude having a fever dream says as gospel. I know that if there is a God; he loves everyone. Except for the evil-doers, i.e. Rapists, Murderers, Child Molesters, etc.)
"I don't know what you're talking about, Juliet. Can we just relax and order? I think I want the Double Decker Satan's Breath with Tootin 'n Hollerin Fire Sauce and Redneck Cheese Fingers on the side." She points at the picture on the, surprisingly laminated, menu.
I shrug my shoulders. A girl who is hiding something? Never heard of one.
"Yeah, sure. I'm really interested in this If You're Just Going to Lie to Me with Then I'm gonna go home and a Spill Your Beans on the side." I slam my menu closed and put my elbows on the table.
I'm in theatre, and I'm a soft butch (also known as a stemme)! So really what did you expect? I'M ALLOWED TO BE DRAMATIC! If I'm not being extra, then I'm not being myself.
She raises an eyebrow and flips through the pages of the menu. "Where did you find that? Maybe you should choose something else, yeah?"
I sit back in my seat, and she smiles across from me. She stares right into my brown eyes. Not deep though. Just staring. It feels like I'm looking at a magazine cut out. Cold, dead eyes. Nothing too much going on elsewhere.
That's not me being shady, either. That's me pointing out the fact that she looks like one of those glass Santa dolls that my Aunt Erica puts out at Christmas. It's got glossy eyes that just stare... I keep telling her to get rid of it, then she tells me to get rid of my internalized-homophobia, then we both shut up because shit gets too real and drink the spiked Eggnog without telling my mom because she'd kill me if she found out I like spiked anything.
YOU ARE READING
Deviation (Book #2 of the Taylor Series)
Teen Fiction"It's almost as if sleep and I were married for sixteen years, and I caught them having an affair with my sister." Julie Esther Nicholson, one of the younger sisters of Eve Nicholson, has returned for her story. With the chips of her old life up in...
