“Wow. Okay. So, you just wanted to dip your toe in another pool before Little Miss Uptight shackles you to her for the rest of your boring life. Got it.” She turns around and starts walking in the other direction.
Shit. I should just let her go and walk away from me. I should let her walk out of my life. That would be the smart thing. But Margeaux makes me stupid. So incredibly stupid.
“Margeaux! Stop.” She does. She faces me and the sun reflects off the small piercing above her upper lip.
She isn’t pouting. She’s not working up fake tears to make me feel guilty. Nicolette has done that on many occasions when I’ve said something that upsets her. No. Margeaux just looks bored. Like she doesn’t need to spend her time with me, and she’s tired of wasting her energy on a dorky loser like me. I don’t blame her.
“Do you like French fries?” I ask.
“French fries?”
“Yea. There’s the best food truck in the world just a few blocks up,by the park. The owner and head chef makes the best fries. Let me buy you an order of fries, as an apology,” I offer.
“You think a side of fries is a worthy apology?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Trust me. These fries, if used properly, would solve world peace.”
She tucks her lips into her mouth, trying not to smile.
“Lead the way, Doc.”
10
MARGEAUX
I don’t wantto tell Jon that he hit the nail on the head by treating me to these fries, but holy fucking shit. These are legit, the best fries I’ve ever had.
“They’re good, right?” Jon asks, as I stuff another fry into my drooling mouth.
“Pftt. They’re okay,” I say while swatting his hand away so I can take another couple of fries.
He laughs and pushes the to-go container closer to me. “I knew I was right to order two servings. They’re so addicting,” he says, picking up the second container of fries he ordered. “This is the best food truck in the city. The owner, Shaw, used to be a big-time chef at Michelin star restaurants. Then they moved here and started a food truck,” he says.
I keep munching, doing my best not to make a mess in front of him. I shouldn’t care what he thinks about me. The guy has a fucking girlfriend.The most annoying, jealous, and snobby girlfriend ever. And yet, he’s here withme. I shouldn’t let that fact go to my head. One hot makeout session doesn’t mean anything. I was impulsive, and felt like being a little reckless.
“Well, these fries are officially my favorite.” These fries are a work of art. They’re hand cut and perfectly golden, with the perfect crunchwhen you bite into them. The chef, Shaw, tosses them in some kind of blend of seasoning that has my taste buds dancing. I can’t even identify what all the flavors are. On the menu the fries are called “the world’s best fries.” Guess Shaw knew what they were doing when they came up with this recipe.
“Yea, this food truck is my favorite place to eat in the whole city,” Jon says, licking his fingers to get every speck of flavor these fries have to offer. All I can focus on are his full lips, and how they suck around his fingers.Mnnh. I’ve had those lips on mine. I wonder what else they can do.
“Wait. Yourfavoriteplace to eat in this five-star city, with some of the best restaurants in the country, is a food truck named Side Chick?” I ask, licking my thumb.
Jon licks his lips as I pop my thumb free. There’s so much lip smacking, finger licking, and tongue flicking going on, and it’s all because of these fucking fries. I never would have thought fries would be an aphrodisiac, but here we are.
“Good food is good food. Shaw knows what they’re doing. Besides, fine dining isn’t my scene. I’ll take a snazzy food truck food, from to-go containers on a park bench, over stuffed salmon filets, on a white tableclothed, dimly lit table, any day. I’m a simple guy,” Jon says, slurping up his drink.
“A simple guy? Yet you’re dating the most uptight, hard-to-please woman I’ve ever met,” I scoff, which makes him spit out his drink and cough up whatever he half-swallowed.
“What?” he asks between coughs.
“Oh please. You may have been a simple guy, Doc. But you’re no different than the rest of the people in this city. You’re climbing that social ladder, and you hitched your ride to a woman who is all-too happy to be a doctor’s wife, have your doctor babies, and tell everyone about your doctor life. Admit it,” I bark, feeling so flustered with this whole situation.
I don’t know why I’m suddenly so annoyed with him. I see him ignoring his phone, which is most likely his clingy girlfriend checking in with him. Why is he here with me when he has the perfect life texting him?
“What are you saying, Margeaux?” he grunts quietly, hoping I get his signal to lower my voice.
“Why thefuckare we eating French fries right now?” I shout, not giving a fuck how loud I am. I’m so confused by this guy. I want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.
“Shit. Will you lower your voice?!” he whisper-yells. He grabs my hand and leads me further down the street. I look back at our uneaten fries and feel a sense of loss for those perfectly crunchy treats.
