TweetyGram

22- #ChurrosByTheOcean

"Yeah, but the food back there's cheap. I mean, Taco Freako's Freaky Crunchy Taco is only two dollars and fifty cents and it's the best taco I've ever tasted. Oh, and you should try Churros by the Ocean's Gingerbread Churros. A box only costs three dollars and twenty-five cents, and it's—"

I folded my arms over my chest and scowled. "Only three dollars and twenty-five cents?"

"Yeah." He grinned innocently. "Cheap, right?"

"See that?" I allowed a dramatic pause. "That is exactly why your money keeps disappearing. You're still thinking like a rich dude, dude!"

"Did you just say dude dude?" His broad shoulders shook as he cackled like an idiot.

I hissed at him, causing him to flinch. "What I'm saying is, if you want to save some money, then you have to remember that every penny counts." As he opened his mouth to argue, I glared at him. "And I mean every"—I slapped the back of my hand against my palm for emphasis—"single"—and again—"penny," I concluded with one last slap.

He held up his hands in a placating gesture, still chuckling. "Okay, okay. I get your point. But what if I want to return a favor?"

"Huh?"

"You and Bree have given me so much free food over the past few weeks. So how about you consider me treating you tonight as me returning the favor?"

If he hadn't told me about his struggle with money, I would've taken his offer in a heartbeat. But now was a different case.

"Well, returning a favor is always a good thing, but I have a better idea. How about we just split the bills?"

He blinked at me, surprised. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I still have some emergency funds left, and I haven't spent much—well, any money to treat myself over the past few years, so . . ."

He twisted his lips in thought.

"Besides, this sounds like a food emergency," I added, earning a chuckle from him.

"Okay. Let's go." He gave me his signature bright-as-a-sun smile, one that I hadn't seen in years, and suddenly, my stomach fluttered.

Ugh. That Sweety Fruity Burger must've been made with rotten fruit.

Delicious aromas of various foods—grilled meat, curry, and fried eggs to name a few—wafted in the air as we neared the studio's backlot.

A large banner that said Food Truck Friday hung high above the gate to the vast open space. The employees-only parking lot had been transformed into a cozy place to spend the evening. Dozens of food trucks were parked around the area, fairy lights illuminated the sky like stars, and a band performed on the stage situated near the iconic water tower at the far end of the parking lot.

People of all ages crowded the area; some lined up in front of the trucks, some enjoyed their dinner at the picnic tables at the center of the food market, and some posed with their food in the middle of the busy area while their friends took a picture of them.

"Alright." Jake rubbed his hands together. "Which one do you want to try first?"

"Hmm . . ."

The food trucks offered different cuisines from all over the world; tacos, shawarma, and sushi, to name a few. But my eyes were drawn to the colorful food truck sandwiched between Crazy Panini and Evil Pretzels. The truck had various illustrated beach-themed vinyl stickers plastered on its sides along with a logo that said Churros by the Ocean.

"How about some churros?" I suggested.

Jake gave me a nod of approval. "Excellent choice."

The line wasn't too long compared to the other food trucks. It only took us several minutes to get to the front of the line.