“Believe it or not, we celebrated Christmas in the 70s,” she chuckles, misunderstanding why I’m surprised. “In fact, I would argue that it was much more fun back then. My mama didn’t have to fight anyone in Walmart to make sure we had the toys we wanted.”
I have to giggle. Miss Gina is funny. I like her already.
“I can’t believe I’ve never eaten here before,” I say, smiling, wondering how I could have missed out on a place owned by a woman who’s obviously a CGU legend. I’ve noticed how everyone who walks inside the place greets her by name with a smile.
It saddens me that I’ve missed out on a lot of university traditions and fun because of my intense focus on my studies, but that’s part of why I’m here today, doing something I normally wouldn’t do. I guess in a way I’m trying to put myself out there and make up for lost time.
“Are you a freshman?” Miss Gina asks curiously.
“No, I’m a senior.”
“A senior? I would have never guessed and, based on your accent, or lack of one, I can tell you’re not from around here.”
“No, I’m from up north.”
“But you’re staying in town over the holiday break?”
Most seniors do.
“Yes, I’m here for the break.”
I’ve stayed in Georgia every holiday break and most summers because I need the time to get my work done. I’m not necessarily the smartest person in the CGU nursing program, but I’m damn sure the hardest worker. So any chance I have to get ahead on upcoming courses that I know will be challenging for me, I do.
“Wow, a senior who’s never eaten at The Links?” She smiles. “You’re in for a treat, then. I’ll send over your server once your hottie gets here.”
“Thank you.” I return her smile with one of my own.
I turn the camera app on my phone to check and see if I look how I feel, damp and gross. I try smoothing the fuzzy flyaways down of what used to be a slick ponytail when a massive human being almost gives me a baby heart attack when he slides into the booth next to me.
Not across from me.
But right next to me.
“Your hair looks great,” is the first thing he says as he takes a seat.
What the hell?
As I inspect the huge stranger sitting next to me, I have to catch my breath for a moment because I’ve seen this guy before. I just don’t remember where.
With a chiseled jaw and piercing hazel eyes, my stomach flips for a moment. But while he’s ridiculously handsome, he also seems to have some major boundary issues.
Not cool.
I immediately scoot further inside of the booth to create some more distance and try talking reason to this inappropriate mound of muscle.
“I’m sorry, but you must have me mistaken for someone else. I think you have the wrong table.”
He plasters a goofy grin across his face.
“Nah, I’m in the right seat.”
I’m not sure if this is some sort of fraternity prank or what, but it feels as if all eyes in the restaurant are on us, which only makes me that much more uncomfortable. I don’t like a lot of unwarranted attention.
“Can you at least sit over there, please?” I point to the opposite side of the table.
“Do you see me?” He gestures with his hands at the enormity of his body. “I can’t fit in one of these damn wooden chairs. I need the room of a booth seat.”
That’s fair.
