First one

Eighteen: he's my ice cream

Isabella's POV

The one person I was trying to avoid that evening was sitting at one of the booths. Drew's warm brown eyes were focused on me and my uniform and I felt exposed. He had seen it during my first shift, he and a dozen other men, but knowing he actually likes me made me feel very ashamed of my attire. I rolled over to him, my mind going over every possible exchange of words. Don't get me wrong... I like him, I do. But it seems that I also like Lukas and I just don't know how to handle it. I had to tell him eventually...I can't lie...

I lied too much for one lifetime, trying to cover up my situation at home. Isabella can we do the group assignment at your home? Oh, sorry our home is under construction. Can we watch a movie at your place? Sorry, our tv is broken. Come with us to that party? No, I can't I've got to look after my grandfather... I couldn't just say I'm not allowed, or I have to be there to clean up my parent's mess. Can you come to dinner for my birthday? Nope, I have to study for a test... which was another lie...I had to cook diner for my dad because if I didn't, I had to call in sick at school the next day, one can only cover up so many bruises. After a while they just stopped asking... I can't blame them. While rolling over to Drew's booth my mind wandered off to a place I rather not return. The closer I got to him, the bigger the smile on his face.

"Hi." He said giving me smile while his eyes observed every inch of me.

"Hi Drew, what are you doing here?" I asked politely, trying my best to hide my feelings but as much as my mind wanted to be with Lukas, somewhere there was a soft spot for Drew. His smile made me forget about what I eventually had to tell him. Without realizing I was smiling, happy to see him. He looked good, very good. His black shirt accentuated his brown eyes, making them appear lighter. They were more like a piece of timber smoldering in a fire, hot and passionate. His sleeves were rolled up just enough so the tattoo on his arm was visible. It was his signature, his very hot signature.

"Well, if the girl can't come to the date, I thought why not bring the date to the girl...and I was kinda hungry." He chuckled before taking my hand and pulling me closer to his table while he remained seated. His hand felt warm against my skin, his fingers soft and gentle, delicate almost. I quickly retrieved my hand before Gregory noticed. As much as I despised working at the diner, I needed the money. I better not get myself fired. I looked around but the coast seemed clear, there was no sign of Gregory who was probably in the back counting his Benjamins, sniffing at his success. The image of him with his head in a sack of money crossed my mind and made me mentally roll my eyes. Drew didn't seem bothered by the fact I let go of his hand, he seemed more understanding than upset.

"That's sweet Drew, really. What can I get you to eat?" I said, holding my notebook and pen in front of my chest. He took the menu in his hands and looked at it for just a second before putting it back on the table.

"You." He said with a grin on his face. Looking at my hands who were actually writing that down before I realized what he had said. Looking up from my notebook I was smiling at him, genuinely surprised by his playful comment.

"I'm not on the menu." I replied, blood rushing to my cheeks.

"Are you sure?" He moved in his seat, almost like he was nervous before turning back to me while wiping his hands on his jeans. 'Just a hamburger and a Pepsi." He said while I scribbled that down.

"As you please. It'll be right up." I said rolling back to the kitchen with a spark in my eyes Drew just reignited. Seeing him was making me forget about that other guy I also really like. They are just so different...It's like choosing between ice-cream and chocolate. Both sweet, both delicious, both making you feel in heaven when their taste hits you tongue. But where ice-cream is soft and soothing, with a rainbow of different flavors, chocolate is solid, sometimes bitter and it usually comes in two extremes either really dark and sharp or white and sweet. I like both, which is a problem when both the chocolate and the ice-cream absolutely hate each other for fighting over who got the cherry on top. And this cherry rather not be part of that milkshake.