If someone was to ask me to rank the top three things most important to me, I'd probably say – in no specific order – my family, my friends, and the existence of Lana Del Ray.
However, as of roughly two hours ago, my parents had booted themselves out of the aforementioned top three.
It happened like this: Carson and I were in the kitchen, minding our own damn business. We were trying to knock our homework for next week out of the way because Jason was having a party tomorrow night, and we'd be hungover Sunday. I had been sitting on the counter, staring without a thought in my brain at our assignment, while Carson was making us a snack.
Like I said, minding our business.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, and for no good reason, my father came into the kitchen, like a vulture swooping down on its prey. He ordered us to leave because apparently he had planned a 'date night' for my mom, and he didn't want the two of us around.
He didn't even really give us a chance to argue with him about it. He tossed Carson his car keys, slapped his credit card into my hand, and shooed us out of the house.
So, right now, my parents aren't even in the list of my top 100.
Carson and I drove around aimlessly for like thirty minutes. We called Dylan to see what he was doing, but he was at his cousin's quinceñera. When we asked if we could come and crash it, he told us to fuck off and then proceeded to hang up on us.
We tried Luna next. Unsurprisingly, she and Jason were together. Apparently, Jason had roped her into trying out a hot pilates class because Dylan had called him unathletic, which he took personal offense to. Jason surfs whenever he goes back to California, and occasionally will go to yoga classes, but other than that, the last sport he played was probably hide-and-seek in grammar school. I wasn't going to question what he thought one pilates class would do to change Dylan's mind about it, but he's done more activity today than I have so I can't criticize.
Zach was our final attempt, which caused an unfortunate existential crisis as we learned that we really only have four friends. Even more unfortunate was that he was was coaching his little sister's softball game tonight. Once again, we asked if we could crash it, and once again, we were told to fuck off.
Friends were also quickly slipping from their spot in my top 100 as well.
Since my dad gave us his card, we decided to grab dinner somewhere, and if we weren't permitted to go back home after that, maybe go see a movie or something. We ended up at a diner on the edge of town.
Like any diner, this one looked like it had been around longer than Queen Elizabeth. It smelt like stale coffee, and the booths were a dingy green color. The menus were sticky and smelled of maple syrup.
Our waitress was an older lady, with box-dyed orange hair, bright blue eyeshadow, and cherry red lipstick that was smudged on her front teeth. She was sweet and called us both 'honey,' but she also moved at the pace of a snail. We both ordered water, and fifteen minutes passed before she came back to take our order, completely forgetting about the water.
Safe to say, it would be quite some time before we saw the chocolate chip pancakes we ordered.
We started out playing rock, paper, and scissors to kill time, but I had to give up after round four because Carson would continue to add different signs in, such as 'magic wand' and 'fire,' which according to him beat everything else.
Anyways, we devised another game to pass the time.
"Okay, okay," he chuckled. He knocked down the tower of mini jams that he had made. "What about that one?"
Carson pointed to a man sitting at the bar. He was wearing an ugly red sweater and these big bug eyes that scattered around.
I quickly averted my gaze from him when the buggy eyes turned in my direction. I shook my head, cringing as Carson laughed at my reaction. "Absolutely not."
"What's wrong with him, Princess?" He asked, tossing one of the mini grape jams at me.
"Stop it," I complained, tossing the jam back at him. He caught it before it could hit his chest and dropped it into his pile of discarded jams. "Take this seriously."
He sighed, "There's no one good enough here right now. Let's wait it out a bit. Try me instead."
I scanned over everyone in the crowded restaurant. There was a pretty woman sitting by herself at the bar, but she had deep-set wrinkles around her eyes and wore a conservative outfit akin to something you could find in Hillary Clinton's closet. Something about the ensemble suggested that she was way too mature to entertain Carson, who was currently holding a wedding for the salt and pepper shakers.
I looked over to the booths on the opposite side of the large room. There was a group of four girls, giggling obnoxiously loud as they passed their phones between each other. Too young.
Another woman sitting not far away from us seemed promising. She was pretty, with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She had a young face and was dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a tank top. I almost picked her, but upon closer inspection, the hand wrapped around her glass of water had a shiny ring on the index finger. Not a moment later, a large, burly man, slid into the seat across from her, a beer in either hand.
Definitely not her.
I almost gave up when, as if on cue, a pretty new girl walked in. She looked young, somewhere around our age, maybe a year or two older. She was tall, with long tan legs, accentuated by her doc martens. Her shiny black hair cascaded in waves down her back, and her beautiful brown eyes were framed by long, dark lashes. She had a radiant smile as she conversed with the hostess at the front of the diner.
This would be fun to watch.
I waited until the hostess left her station and the girl was alone before alerting Carson. "Her," I said, smiling.
Carson turned his head toward the front of the diner to see who I was talking about. He looked her over before turning back to me smugly, "Easy."
I put my hands up in surrender, trying not to laugh prematurely. I nodded my head at her, signaling for him to go on.
"I'll be back in two minutes," he assured as he slid out from the booth.
I watched intently as he made his way over to her. I couldn't see his face, but I watched as he reached out a hand and took hers as he introduced himself. She seemed confused, maybe curious at first.
Carson moved closer to her, and the change in angle allowed me to see the side of his face. I couldn't make out what he was saying to her, but I kept my eyes trained on her facial expressions. She laughed a couple of times and gave a small smile.
Carson's friendly smile slowly turned into a smirk the longer he spent talking to her, and I almost got worried that he would pull it off.
However, it didn't take too long before the girl expressed her disinterest. She started inching away from Carson, holding up a hand to him as she quickly excused herself. I watched her walk to the bar at the back corner of the diner, waving down the bartender for a drink.
I laughed victoriously as Carson slumped back into his seat with a pout on his face. Before I could even begin my taunting, he grumbled a 'shut up' to me.
"Aw, looks like there are other girls immune to your charms. What a pity."
"Oh, wipe that look off of your face. You haven't won yet."
"Then pick someone! I want to win."
He sighed, "Fine, fine."
Carson's eyes scanned over the restaurant and the bar once again, still dissatisfied with the crowd. This place was pretty empty because apparently, most people have better things to do with their Friday nights than sit in a run-down diner. It made me question what the hold-up on our pancakes was.
I watched Carson's brows dip in and his eyes grew dark with mischief. He smiled, innocently at me, and pointed a finger in a random direction.
I followed the length of his arm and extended finger to the same girl I had matched him up with. "Her."
The confidence he had that he could win her over was the same confidence he was displaying now. He was absolutely certain that I would lose. It made me even happier for the chance to prove him wrong.
I smiled at Carson and silently got up from my seat. I took a moment to straighten my clothes and smooth my hair. I blew Carson a kiss over my shoulder before walking off toward the bar.
Even though I had no plan as for how to pull this off, I made my way up confidently, taking the spot right next to her. She didn't spare me a glance, her gaze fixed on her phone. I usually don't have to try too hard to get a girl to notice me, and in any case, I am not someone who flirts, I would much rather be flirted with. So this whole thing was unprecedented.
I signaled for the bartender, figuring maybe a drink would help. The entire time I spoke, his eyes were on my chest, and he couldn't bother to stop staring long enough to ask for my ID. It was disgusting, but it did give me an idea.
As I patiently waited for him to make my drink, I studied the girl over. She was really beautiful. She smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg. I was starting to wonder if she was even single, and if that may why she turned down Carson. If that was the case, then he purposefully set me up for failure.
"Here you go, sugar," the bartender said breaking my stare. He slid my drink in front of me before pushing a napkin toward me. I could tell that there was something written on it before it was close enough to read. Really, it was just my luck.
I slid the napkin closer to me to read, making sure that it was also well within her line of sight, too. After taking an appropriate amount of time to read the number on it, I gave a slightly dramatic, disgusted groan.
I heard her scoff from beside me. "Men," she said, under her breath.
"They're all horrendous," I agreed, not yet looking at her. I kept my guard up, cold and annoyed. I was dying to see her eyes up close and have her looking at me, but I needed to be nonchalant about this or I would seemed too eager. I swirled around my drink, looking at it distastefully.
"Can't get away from them either," she added, shuffling a little closer to me. I took a large sip of my drink before I allowed myself to turn to my body toward her. I let my eyes scan her face and gave an amicable smile, "Sounds like someone speaking from a personal experience."
She sighed, "You could say that."
"Father?" I guessed.
"Nope."
"Coworker?"
"Nuh-uh."
"Brother?"
"Don't have one."
"Boss?"
"Ooh, good guess, but no."
"Boyfriend?" I tried.
She shifted her stance while laughing cynically to herself, "More like ex-boyfriend now."
"So what's the story?" I pushed. "Did he forget about an anniversary? Or did he just never remember to put the toilet seat down?"
"More like he got his assistant pregnant after having an affair with her for over half of our relationship," She responded, coldly.
I rolled my eyes, "Disgusting."
"Tell me about it."
"Seriously? Do guys not think when they do anything?"
"I don't think they have anything to think with."
"Can't argue with that."
"And then I come here, just to pick up some take-out food, and of course, it's not ready yet, and then this guy comes and hits on me-"
I almost risked a glance at Carson but decided against it. I'd see his face soon enough when my victory was secured.
"-and then that bartender hits on you," she shook her head, "It's just all so frustrating. It's just-"
"Men," I finished for her.
"Men," She agreed.
I waited a moment before moving closer to her, "Let's get back at them."
She laughed, "There's not enough time in the world to get revenge on every man that's pissed me off."
"So, then, what do we do?" I asked. I had to make her believe this was her idea in order for this all to work out.
Her shoulders slumped for a second before she turned her eyes back on me. She looked me over, head to toe before a serious, definite look washed over her face.
"We show them what they can't have."
"How?"
Her hand came to rest on the nape of my neck, and she pulled me into her. She grabbed my chin and kissed me. It started slowly, one of her hands on my waist, the other now on the side of my face, but it quickly picked up pace, and suddenly, the two of us were standing at a bar in a restaurant having a public, messy make out session. Her tongue was halfway down my throat, and my hands were tangled in her hair.
It felt glorious to win. Her tongue also felt glorious, and the fact that she was a good kisser made this a double win.
"Um, Miss?" A soft, shy voice broke us apart.
Her hand stayed on the side of my face as she pulled away and turned her head to face the hostess, who held a brown paper bag in her hand. The girl looked at me once more, her lips still red and swollen, "What's your name?"
I almost said it, but decided to play it safe. "Amber."
She smiled, "It was nice meeting you, Amber." She took the bag from the hostess and headed for the door, the waves in her hair bouncing against her back with every step. I touched my lips and giggled.
I walked back to our booth and stood in front of a fuming Carson. "Looks like I win," I smiled.
He groaned but said nothing else. He got up from the table and placed a hand on my back, pushing me in the direction of the bathroom.
"Thanks, by the way. She was a good pick after all."
Carson rolled his eyes, muttering something incoherent under his breath.
I shook my head, "Stop being a poor sport just because I was able to seduce a girl that wanted nothing more than to get away from you."
He scoffed, "The deal was to get her to kiss you. You didn't have to have a five-minute groping session!" He pushed me into the bathroom, locking the door behind us.
I shrugged, "It wasn't like you couldn't stop it at any time. You could have ended it whenever you wanted."
Carson shook his head and smirked. He grabbed my hip and lifted me up. I wrapped my legs, out of habit, around his waist as my back crashed against the wall.
He looked up at me and smiled, "I didn't need to break it up. That was a game. And she's not the one who gets to go home with you."
* *
We stopped before any clothes came off in a public place, and got back to our table two minutes before our pancakes did, which was kind of concerning, but I wasn't going to ask.
My father had called us while we were paying the check, and let us know that we were allowed to come home now. Just as we were exiting, we ran into the old woman that was dressed like Hillary Clinton from the bar. She was also on her way out, so Carson held the door and allowed her to go before us. She smiled and thanked him – with a whole lot of affection – for being such a gentleman, and I nearly gagged.
The woman's wallet fell from her pocket, but she kept walking like she hadn't noticed. Carson rushed ahead of me to pick it up and give it back to her. "Ma'am," he said, gently tapping her shoulder. She turned to face him, an expression between startled and confused. "You dropped this."
He handed her back the wallet, and she looked shocked to see it. "Oh my goodness, thank you, dear."
"No problem."
"You are just too kind, sweetheart. It's good to know some gentlemen still exist." She placed a hand on his shoulder and pat him, which struck me as strange, before heading off to her car.
"Ask for her number, why don't you," I said to him, trying to contain my laughter. He turned back to me with a smirk on his face. "Do I need to break you away from her?"
"Aw, is someone jealous?" He laughed, closing the distance between us and throwing an arm around my shoulders.
I rolled my eyes, "No, I'm not jealous. She's like triple our age."
"You say that like it's a turn-off."
I elbowed him in his ribs, but he was still laughing. "I actually almost made you go up to her."
"Oh, I would've killed that. Old ladies love me."
"Alright," I started. "You wanna rematch? If you can get her number, I'll give you a present when we get home."
His eyes lit up, "A present?"
I nodded, "You better hurry. She's getting in her car."
His head whipped around in the direction of the lady, who stood in the door of her beige, 2004 Toyota Camry. His arm slipped down from my shoulders, and then he was off, running across the parking lot to ask an old lady for her phone number.