Cracking Coconuts

Problem #5: Getting Away with Things

"Can you believe it? His real number. Not some number to his publicist or his hairdresser. A direct line," squealed Cat. 

Amira was so focused on the crowd that she barely heard anything. It was like her worst nightmare. One moment the crowd was focused on Saint, trying to catch his attention. When he disappeared like the main act of a magic show, they needed a new target. Unfortunately for her, they decided on the table he had just left. Like little vultures with eyes on new prey, they turned nearly simultaneously to face their table. 

Amira pushed at Cat, who was still focused on the napkin. 

"Cat, we need to go  . . . now," she said quietly. Where was their puff of disappearing smoke?

"You aren't at all affected by this?" asked Cat incredulously. 

"Let's talk about this in the car," said Amira as she continued to push Cat forcefully out of the booth. "Or we are going to be talking with a lot of company."

That was when Cat noticed the crowd approaching to find out who Saint's mystery lunch date was. Yep, vultures. And they were getting ready to circle. 

"Yeah. We should talk . . . .in the car," said Cat nervously. 

The girls made a beeline for the door without even a glance back. They heard shouts of 'who are you' and 'how do you know Saint', but they didn't stop. They quickly got in the car, but didn't talk until they were on the interstate heading home. 

"Okay, the fangirls were a little scary," began Cat. 

"A little!" Amira nearly screeched. "They were two seconds from being psychotic. I'm surprised they didn't chase us down the street. Or jump on my car." She looked behind her at the clusters of lunchtime traffic. "Actually let's switch a few lanes around just in case."

"But," said Cat loudly to cover over Amira's negativity. "we got his number. Are you ever going to say how great that is?" 

Amira said nothing, just kept her eyes focused on the road in front of her. 

"Don't just sit there and pretend it doesn't affect you. I know it does. He is like one of your favorite singers. And you are super picky."

A slip of a smile peeked out. Cat poked at Amira. "Come on. Tell your bestie the truth."

Amira smiled so suddenly and so brightly that it hurt the corners of her mouth. 

"It is pretty cool."

"Hmph. She says it's pretty cool."

"Fine. It's awesome. Exciting. Unbelievable."  She wasn't completely emotionless. It was Saint. 

He was so hot. Amira was the complete opposite of boy-crazy, but Saint would make her rethink that. He was perfect.  That thick dark black hair basically called for her to run her fingers through it. She could just feel it. 

"Amira! Stop." 

She put her foot on the break as they came upon traffic. 

"What were you thinking?" 

"Nothing," said Amira as she brushed it off. 

"Sometimes, I wish I could read your mind. I'm pretty sure you only tell me about half the stuff going on in there. According to your family, that's good compared to how you talk to them."

She shrugged. Well, she couldn't debate that. 

"Whatever. I know you are happy even if you don't show it. Who wouldn't be? That's like the second lunch we've had with Saint. Who can say that?"