All American Boys

10. Cyril Alexander Hypatius

All American Boys

Chapter 10: Cyril Alexander Hypatius

I sat there in the passenger seat of Cyril's bright red Ferrari. It was a pretty car I'd give him that, running pretty smoothly. He had picked me up at five at my house, after he caught me after school to ask me for my number. I didn't really want him to have it, but I relented anyway.

The young man had changed into a fresh pair of clothes, and sprayed on a sweet cologne. His brown hair combed neatly, he had a casual pink shirt on and a pair of skinny jeans. I on the other hand had opted for a flannel shirt and shorts. He had complimented on my outfit when I first stepped into his car, but that was about the only thing he said. The drive to the diner was painfully quiet and awkward.

The diner was a bit out of town, along the road leading out of Bethlehem and towards Bethany. It was more of a truck stop establishment than anything else, but it still looked quite decent and shiny. There were a few muscle cars parked outside, as well as one or two trailers. The chime rang as Cyril pushed the door open, and I trailed him inside.

Cyril chose to sit in a booth at the far corner of the diner. The waitress, a young blonde in a blue floral house dress, sauntered up to us and placed two laminated menus on the table. I didn't even get a chance to order – Cyril immediately ordered two stacks of waffles, one drizzled with chocolate and whipped cream, the other topped with strawberries and syrup. No prizes for guessing which one was meant for me. Sure, it was something small, but it kind of threw me off. He never even asked for what I wanted. Or perhaps I was just being overly critical, it being Cyril Crawford and all. But I said nothing, and just smiled and nodded.

He topped off the list with a basket of fries, onion rings and two milkshakes - again, one strawberry and one chocolate. I wanted to sigh, but I didn't want him to notice, so I just did so in my head.

"It's a really nice place isn't it?" Cyril said, breaking the silence.

Indeed, it really was. The tables were shiny, the seats red-and-white seats were plump and comfortable, slow rock was playing from the neon jukebox. The smell of coffee wafted through the air, and I could hear the popping of sizzling oil coming from the kitchen.

"Yeah," I said. "It's really nice."

All I could think of was Isaac's sad eyes when he watched me walk away with Cyril. I couldn't stop thinking of them.

"Is everything okay?" the young man in front of me asked. "Hey, if you don't feel like it I can just pay for the tab and take you home."

"N-No!" I blurted out loud, shaking my head frantically. "I'm just. . . Exhausted."

"Shit," I heard him mutter under his breath. "I should've ordered coffee."

I only giggled nervously.

"Really," I told him. "Don't worry about it."

"I didn't know what you wanted so I just ordered what I thought you'd like," he said, hanging his head, apologetic. "So I just went with Belgian Waffles. I mean, you do like waffles don't you? Everyone likes waffles."

You could've just asked me, idiot.

But I only nodded my head and giggle.

"Waffles are fine," I said to him.

"I'm glad I made the right call then," he said, sinking into his seat, a sheepish smile of relief on his lips. "Strawberry waffles it is then."

"Actually," I told him. "I'd very much prefer chocolate to strawberry."