“I think you have a prejudice against vegetarians. We’re good people.”
“Not my kind of people.”
“So you don’t trust people who don’t like animalsandwho don’t eat meat? That seems like an oxymoron.”
“Call it whatever you want to call it. I am who I am.”
“Said Sam I am.”
His eyes light up.
“Your favorite childhood book too?”
“One of them,” I admit. “I can see the tattered orange hardback cover in my head. My mom used to read it to me all the time.”
“Mine too. This friendship of ours is really starting to have some legs.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Jason orders a variety of tacos and sides for the table because according to him, there’s just no way you can choose just one kind.
He was right.
The food is to die for.
After fifteen minutes of steak taco heavenly silence and more Mariachi music we chat again.
“Guac or sour cream?” he asks.
“Guacamole, obviously.” I point to my disappearing blob of homemade guacamole. “What about you?”
His portions look pretty even.
“I like them both, but if I had to choose, it would be sour cream.”
“Oh, so we finally have a different answer.”
He stares into my eyes as he takes a bite and chews sexily slow, if that’s even a thing.
“Yeah, we have some differences, but only in the best ways.”
His eyes drop to my breasts and immediately I can feel my nipples pucker inside the cups of my bra.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?” he asks.
“I have work tomorrow.” I place my taco down. “You know I’m starting to feel like you spend most of our time together trying to get me drunk.”
“Is that how it seems?”
“A little, yeah.”
“I apologize if that’s how it comes off. It’s just that sometimes it seems as if you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. The alcohol loosens you up.”
“So you’re saying I’m uptight?”
“No, ma’m, not at all. When I first saw you dancing at the jukebox without a care in the world, I knew you weren’t uptight. It wasn’t until you remembered that there were other people in the room that you tensed up.”
“Am I boring without a drink?”
