I furrow my brows, wondering what thefuckworld I’ve just stepped into.
Tillie returns as I walk around and sit down next to Zaria. She puts the straw into the glass and places a menu neatly in front of Zaria.
“Thank you, Matilda. Now, please find me another menu,” she orders.
Tillie looks at me and scrunches up her face, but turns and walks out of the room, leaving me with the diva.
She looks at me, slumping into her seat as if finally letting her guard down. With a sigh, she picks up her glass, takes a small sip of water, and smiles as her lips release the pink straw. Her eyesdrift down to the pizza menu, then back up to meet mine, and she nods.
I tense up as a cold sweat invades my body.
She puts the glass down on the table and hands me the menu. “What’s your pick? Read me the best thing, in your opinion, from the menu, artist.”
My heart races, and a sweat bead forms on my temple. I feel the color drain from my face as I look down at the piece of paper. It seems so innocent. So bright and colorful, but this shit is why I feel so worthless.
“I, ah… I don’t know this place. Maybeyoushould choose?” I hand the menu to her.
She furrows her brows, pushing it back to me. “No, I don’t know good pizza. I never eat it. But I know you will because artists always eat pizza. Soyoupick.”
Swallowing hard, I don’t want to look like a dick in front of her, so I open the menu and focus on the page. My head starts to spin as I look at the words while the letters all swirl together.
“Um… ah… pizza… um—” I swipe my forehead, wiping away the sweat that’s gathered, and take a deep breath.
“Artist?”
I look up to see her looking at me with a kind, soft stare. Her hand reaches out, and she rests it on my arm. Something passes through me, and I see her breathing hitch at the same time as mine.
She half-smiles and takes a deep breath. “Oh my God, you… you can’t read. Can you?”
I jolt back, swallowing hard, and shake my head. “What? No! Of course, I can.”
“It’s okay, don’t be ashamed.”
“No, I’m not. Icanread. I’m notstupid!”
She shakes her head quickly, her voice softening. “No, no, of course not. I didn’t mean it like that.Pleasedon’t think I did.”She hesitates, her eyes searching mine. “It’s okay,really.I’m sorry, the others don’t know,do they?”
I tense up, feeling like a complete idiot, and as I go to say something, anything to change the topic, Tillie walks in with another menu.
“Here’s a Thai place, Zaria. In case you’re not into pizza.”
“Thank you, Tillie. Where is everyone else? I need variety. I want to seeallthe menus, not just pizza and Thai,” Zaria demands, slipping effortlessly back into her high-maintenance persona.
For a fleeting moment, I wonder if she let me see another side of herself. Because before Tillie walked in, she wasn’t performing. There’d been something almost kind in her, especially after she uncovered my secret. But the second Tillie entered the room, she snapped right back into her whole leading-lady routine.
I think there’s more to Zaria Shafir than meets the eye.
“Um… they’re just grabbing more menus. They shouldn’t be too…” The others stroll back in. “Oh, here they are now! Guys, did you bring more take-out menus?” Tillie asks, widening her eyes at them all—though I’m pretty sure if she weren’t the uber-professional she is, she’d be rolling them right now.
They all wave their respective pamphlets in the air and walk around the table, taking their seats.
“Okay, so we’ll have one thing from every menu, please. I like variety, it keeps it exciting,” Zaria demands.
Everyone raises a brow while looking down at the probably twenty-plus menus lying on the table in front of us.
“Ah… sure. Is there anything you would like in particular, Zaria?” Tillie asks.
She waves her hand in the air and curls her lip. “I don’t care. Just order number seven on every menu. But tell them to make it snappy. I’m famished.”
