That Stupid Little L-Word:

Chapter Thirteen:

"Welcome to McDonald's! What can I get for you?" A short Hispanic girl stands behind the register. She looks about our age --maybe a year or two older-- and wears bright red lip-stick. Her painted lips are tugged back into a patient grin and I smile at her as I ask for two plain cheeseburgers and a large fry. 

"This," Blue-Eyes is looking around the place incredulously, "Is your idea of a romantic lunch date?"

I'm kind of shocked that he still hasn't come to terms with my favorite fast food joint; it is like the Olive Garden of fast food, in my opinion at least. Well, at least the poor man's equivalent, anyways. "Hurry up and order," I rummage through my wallet. 

He grumbles under his breath and asks for a Big Mac meal. I go to hand the girl behind the counter my debit card, but Blue-Eyes grabs my wrist and wrenches it back before Bright-Red-Lips can take it. He hands her a sleek black credit card as I squeak in protest. "Hey!" I scowl at the side of his face, and he ushers me off to the side so we can fill our cups with soda, "I was going to pay for it." 

"What part of "my parent's are filthy rich" do you not understand?" Blue-Eyes sneers down at me. 

"If they are so rich, then why do you have a job?" I shoot back, an eyebrow arched with interest. He shouldn't need to run around and deliver pizzas if his parents gave him boat-loads of money. Bright-Red-Lips calls out our order number before he can respond. We take the few steps back toward the counter together, his left arm curled around my waist. I reach out to grab the tray, but Blue-Eyes snags it before I can.

I let out an irritated huff. 

He chuckles and leads me toward one of the few empty tables. Like a gentleman, he rounds the table and pulls out my seat as I go to. I press my lips into a line and sit down, letting him slide the chair back in.

I really hate being babied and doted on. 

Blue-Eyes slides into the seat across from me, and folds his arms atop the table. He leans forward and beams at me. "If you must know, I took the job to help out a friend of mine. He needed a delivery boy at the time, and I had nothing better to do. Now I just like that it gives me something to do." 

I harrumph in response and unwrap my cheeseburger. "Fine. You can pay for our dates. But you can't judge me when I don't ask to go to the fanciest place out there." 

"Sorry," he smiles sheepishly and picks up a few fries, "I guess I've been around Sophie for too long. She usually insists on Olive Garden or Red Lobster for lunch." 

"Who?" My eyebrows crinkle in confusion. I probably should have mentioned to him that I seriously suck at names, and usually end up giving everyone I don't normally talk to --and am not attracted to-- nicknames. 

He laughs at me, his lips closed around a fry, "My girlfriend. The one in our Art Class." 

"Oh," I nod in understanding as an image of Bimbo One flashes across my mind's eye. I had forgotten her existence thanks to the beautiful burger of cheesy grease in my hands. "Is she here yet?" 

I glance around the restaurant as the words slip past my mouth. Bimbo had been...surprised when she realized that Blue-Eyes wasn't going to take her out to lunch today, and she was even more surprised when she saw that he was going to be with me. I remember her ice cold glare as I followed Blue-Eyes out into the parking lot, and into the passenger side door of his shiny car --and let me tell you, being inside that sexy car is even better than I'd ever imagined.

Blue-Eyes nods, "Over there." He sneakily uses his straw to point them out before he jabs it into his soda. 

Trying --and failing-- to be inconspicuous, I turn around and look into the direction he had pointed in. Bimbo One, Two, and Red-Roots are gathered around a small booth. All of them are leaning over the table until their heads are almost touching; their hate-filled eyes are trained on us. Ignored trays of food cover the table between them. 

I turn back to him and demand, "Laugh like I said something funny." 

Immediately, he chuckles. His head does that little dip-thing that all the cute guys have mastered and he grins as he takes a sip of his drink. My heart flutters inside my chest and I feel my cheeks heat up. His baby blues meet my gaze and he quirks a brow, "How was that?" 

"You'd make an excellent actor," I point a fry at him. 

He leans across the table and I gasp as his lips enclose around my fry. Irritation floods through me; that very well could have been the best damn fry of the box, and he just stole it from me! I press my lips together into a firm line and fight to keep the emotion off my face. He's so lucky I have this huge crush on him, otherwise I would pulverize him. No one touches my food. 

He also paid for it, I remind myself, so even if I were to get all possessive, it wouldn't really be right. 

The rest of our meal is spent in fits of uncontrollable giggles, as he cracks jokes and makes funny faces whenever I lift a fry to my mouth. I ask him about his job, and his friends, and eventually why he is even dating Bimbo in the first place. 

"I don't know," Blue-Eyes shrugs in answer, leaning back in his seat. "It's complicated. We've known each other for a while, and she knows a lot about me and my family. She's always just kind of fit into that part of my life." 

"Then why do you want to dump her?" 

He cracks a thin smile, "She's changed. I've changed. I'm not the shy, reclusive little boy I used to be." 

I almost snort my soda out at that one. He laughs as I make a choking noise and wipe feverishly at my nose before any sort of liquid can escape. "I can't imagine you being shy at all," I laugh.

He grins at me, "That's because you're pretty. I'm only myself around pretty people."

My cheeks are on fire. "Yeah, well," I grumble and almost knock my drink over as I go to take a sip.

He watches me in amusement. I gather all my trash onto one of the trays and he glances at the watch strapped to his wrist. "As much as I hate to cut our time short, we'll be late if we stay out much longer."

We stand and I snap my fingers, "Rats. I was going to tell you all about my secret Pokemon collection, too."

He pauses, a tray balanced on his palm. "You like Pokemon?"

I blink, and then smile up and him sheepishly, "Maybe." I dump my tray into the trash and we walk out the door toward his car.

I can feel Bimbo's glare attempting to burn through the glass.

His lips spread into a devilish grin. He throws an arm around my waist and pulls me into his side. "I knew there was a reason I liked you, Llama-Buddy."

That made my insides tingle.