I raise a brow. “That won’t…hurt things…will it?”
She leans closer to me and props her chin on her fist. “Oliver. Do you honestly think I’d put your wonder stick in danger?”
God, I love her.
I do.
She’s hilarious and fun and underneath it all, she has the kind of heart that’s willing to put her entire life on hold to help a guy she’s never liked.
“Maybe,” I tell her. “You could still be mad about the queso.”
She laughs at that.
We order buffalo burgers and fries—hers with a side of cheese dip—along with milkshakes—chocolate for me, cookies and cream for her—and while we’re waiting for our food, Daph gets us both onto the mechanical bull.
“Better before we’re stuffed,” she says as my name’s called.
Myothername.
My Tom name. The name that she has to remind me is mine.
I make it four seconds, which has her rolling. But I’m happy to report there’s no damage to my wonder stick.
They call Maribella—her name for the evening—immediately after me, and she shows me up by making it seven whole seconds.
“Really thought you’d go for thirty,” I tell her as we make our way back to our table.
No one’s looking at us. Someone else is already up on the bull, and they might make it thirty seconds. Seem to have a good handle on what they’re doing in ways that Daph and I—or maybe just I—definitely don’t.
“I’m out of practice,” she replies with a grin.
“They have a mechanical bull somewhere back home?”
“No, but you know what? I’ll tell Bea that if she ever takes her burger bus into a physical location, she should totally add one.”
“Is Bea the type to add a mechanical bull?”
Daphne laughs. “Not unless I goad her. Simon would be on my side though. That’ll help.”
Our burgers and shakes arrive almost as soon as we’re seated again, and I’m not exaggerating when I say this is the best burger I’ve ever had in my life.
“Wait until you try Bea’s,” Daphne tells me.
Though she’s eating her burger like it’s the best burger she’s ever had in her life too.
I stare at her pointedly.
She rolls her eyes. “Dude. This is me being hungry. Bea’s burgers are better. Even though they’re not buffalo. They’re normal beef. Oh my god. That shake though. Have you tried yours? Wow. Wow, that’s good.”
Yeah.
This is what I want.
Dinners with Daphne every night.
It’s like there’s not a single thing in life that she’s not enthusiastic about, and I adore that about her.
We spend three hours at dinner, ordering extra milkshakes and fries while we take turns at karaoke, attempting to one-up each other with how bad we can be until Daphne finally admits I win.
