“You boys need anything else?”
“We’re good,” Trent replied as I flipped the bun off the top of my burger and grabbed the thick slices of tomato.
T lifted the bread on his sandwich, and I laid them on his beef and then uncapped the bottle of Heinz to pour a big puddle on his plate and then on mine.
I helped myself to his fries and ketchup, sighing appreciatively.
I reached for my soda, but Trent made a sound, freezing my arm midair. “You’re gonna get ketchup all over your sleeve,” he scolded, abandoning his plate to tug the leather jacket down so it wasn’t dragging in the food.
We ate in comfortable silence for a few after that. The burger oozed the perfect amount of grease and the fries on T’s plate the perfect amount of salt.
After swiping my burger through the ketchup, I pointed to the near-empty spot. “You’re almost out.”
“You still have some,” he mused, motioning to the untouched mound on my plate.
“It’s not the same.”
He shook his head but added more to his plate.
“You think the kids are okay?” I asked.
T pulled out his phone and brought up the app we had to track their whereabouts. “They’re at Sweetstone,” he said, turning the device around to show me the map. “Andi is probably covered in chocolate.”
I pulled out my cell and brought up the tab I still had open from earlier and set it beside his plate. Trent leaned forward to gaze at the screen and then picked up the phone to look closer.
When he looked up, his eyes glimmered with amusement. “How long have you had this picked out?”
“I saw the listing a couple weeks ago. Didn’t think too much of it, but then today when you suggested getting Trav a car that needed work, it came to mind.”
Trent scrolled through the listing, squinting a bit to read it.
“You need glasses.”
“I do not.”
“Do too,” I sang.
“These words in this listing are just small,” he argued.
“I think you in a pair of glasses would be sexy as hell.”
His hazel eyes fired up. “You think?”
“Mmhmm.” I agreed. “Just thinking about it makes me hard.”
Trent’s stare dropped to my lap, then back up. “Maybe glasses wouldn’t be so bad.”
Smirking, I stole the last few fries off his plate, then washed them down with the perfectly carbonated soda.
“It’s a Mach 1 like mine, but the ‘70 has a different styling and trim,” I said, bringing the conversation back to the car. “This one has two headlights instead of four and a cleaner front design. The fender lights are replaced with air scoops.”
“They’re missing,” Trent noted.
I nodded. “Yeah, we’ll have to fix that. The side markers are more rectangular on this one versus mine.”
Still thumbing through the listing, Trent said, “It needs a new engine, tires, probably lights. Needs a sway bar kit and coilover suspension for better cornering. It doesn’t say, but I’m guessing it will need a new fuel injection too for better drivability.”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
