Rain Check?

~78~

  Thoughts ran wild Saturday night, keeping me from any real sleep. Each time I closed my eyes I could still see the look on his face. Each time I even slightly drifted off I woke in a panic, bits and pieces of a random life altering dream sending me straight into mini anxiety attacks. 

  "We should talk," Chris tells me. Coming up next to me he puts his hand on my lower back, guiding me towards a table in the Snack Shack off to the side of the arcade. 

  My emotions are already threatening to beat me up, confusion being the first up to bat with fear a close second. Those words, 'we should talk' rarely ever bring anything good to the table. In fact I'm pretty sure the last time we said them to one another was the afternoon I discovered that the guy I went on a date with was in fact a Hollywood Heartthrob known as Chris Evans. 

  That conversation went well, right? So why can't this one?

  My conscience answers rather quickly. Because he cheated on you. 

  I tell it to kick rocks and get the hell out of the forefront of my brain and to take a nap. 

  Sliding into the booth I practically hold my breath until he's sitting across from me. His eyes have taken a different turn from earlier, no longer playful or light, causing me to swallow nervously for a moment. I raise my brows, my lips in a tight smile and wait for him to speak. He's interrupted before he even gets started when a young pimply face teenage boy walks over with a menu. 

  "Welcome to the Snack Shack," he says in a monotone voice. "What can I get you?"

  Chris looks to me, giving me first opportunity on whether to say 'nothing' letting him know this will probably be a quick yell fest before an impromptu exit. "I'll have an iced tea, please."  Chris seems relieved as he orders a beer whether it be for nerves or just because he wants one, I'm unsure.

  "Food?" the guy asks, staring at us. 

  Apparently the third emotion battling it out for bragging rights would be frustration as I turn my agitated head up to him. "Dude, you just laid the menu down and have talked to us the whole time."  Chris' hand moves up to hide the smirk on his face.

  "Easy, Karen. Chill." He walks away as my face goes flat in annoyance looking at Chris. He honestly looks afraid.

  "What?" I snap.  He holds his hands up in front of him. "You are not a Karen, Demi. Chill."

  "Thank you," I answer, going back into confusion. But before I can get there and ask him to start talking he chimes in again. "You don't have the haircut."

  Annoyance back in full force, I lean up on the table, "Listen here Captain Little A-"

  "Here's your iced tea. Oh, and I need to see your ID for the beer," the young man interrupts me. Chris fishes out his wallet before pulling out his ID. The guy looks like he's not even sure what to be looking for. Suddenly his eyes go wide as he hits the card against his opposite palm. "Dude. You're my dad's age." He passes it off to Chris who now feigns annoyance. I don't hide my grin as I order the chicken tenders and nachos to split. 

  "You really thought he was about to fanboy on you didn't ya?" I laugh out, pointing at him. "Papa Chris!" I let myself truly feel the laughter, giving it a chance to try and calm my nerves. It also helps seeing his self deprecating smile while he rolls his eyes. 

  My laughter starts to die down as I see him nervously play with the paper from my straw. "Spit it out, Evans." 

  "There's something that I need to come clean about," he tells me timidly.