Sophia
We ended up eating at McDonald's, which is, coincidentally, my favorite restaurant.
I secretly wondered if he knew I loved their food best but it was probably a lucky guess.
Our table was located in a secluded corner of the fast food place, and I liked the cold air.
"You-" Lucas fixed me with a childish smile. "-eat a lot."
I glared at him across the small square table. "I do not," I denied vehemently as I ate a fry.
His brown eyes swept over my order: Two large fries, one-piece chicken with two cups of rice, a tall coke float, and a chocolate sundae, which began to melt so I quickly nibbled on it.
"You're being judgemental," I told him as I munched on my ice cream cone.
He raised a cynical brow in my direction before he looked down at his own food: A small basket of chicken nuggets, a tall cup of iced tea, and a half-eaten, mouthwatering cheeseburger.
"Shut up," I muttered as I finished my sundae.
One corner of his lips tugged up. "I wasn't saying anything."
"You think I'm a pig, don't you? Well, I don't care," I told him before attacking my chicken meal.
Lucas propped his elbows on the table and cradled his cheeks in his hands. "But a cute pig."
I felt the warmth spread across my cheeks. I picked up a long french fry and tossed it at him.
He expertly caught it in his mouth. "Delicious," he told me with a toothy grin after swallowing.
Soon, I was done with most of my food and was left with my drink and a half-carton of fries.
Lucas commented on my eating habits. "You know, fries can cause cancer."
I frowned at him. "Err.. what?"
He pointed at the long yellow snack in my fingers. "Fries. They're oily and unhealthy."
"Then why did you bring me here?" I asked him, bristling under his criticism.
Lucas sighed and scratched his cheek. "I didn't realize you love their fries so much."
"But they're so yummy," I protested before I popped another fry into my mouth.
"You shouldn't consume too much of oily foods," he admonished me.
I gave him a dejected look. "It's fine..."
"Maybe this is why you had trouble breathing earlier," he suddenly said.
I clenched my teeth. "It's not. I just.." I have a history of asthma, I almost confessed.
Lucas put his arms down on the table and leaned forward. "Just?" he prompted.
"I get tired easily, that's all," I vaguely answered him.
A flash of hurt registered on his face. He knows I'm hiding something.
"So let's get cracking," he said in a chipper voice, obviously changing the topic.
I nodded before I took a sip of my coke float. I asked him: "What do you want to know?"
"A lot," he answered, wearing a goofy smile.
"I hope you don't expect me to divulge everything to you." I lifted a palm. "Sis Code of Honor."
Lucas bobbed his head. "How about.. what are her favorite flowers?"
"Red Stargazers," I instantly supplied. I chomped on a french fry.
"Her favorite meal?"
"Spaghetti with tiny hot-dogs."
"Does she prefer daytime or nighttime dates?"
"Nighttime."
"Her favorite type of music?"
"Pop and Jazz. Sometimes Rock. Shouldn't you be writing these down?"
Lucas shook his head and looked at me,smiling. "I have good memory."
"Hmm, I'll take your word for it," I lazily told him.
"What kinds of gifts does she appreciate?"
"Strawberry-anything. Whether it's dessert or strawberry-themed, she'll love it. And personalized balloons. She goes bonkers for balloon bouquets. What else.. she's a sucker for stuffed animals. Mostly dogs. She prefers dogs over bears. And she insanely loves merchandise revolving around Marcus Young. Do you know him?"
Lucas rolled his brown eyes at me. "The half-Korean singer."
"No need to be snappy," I told him in a gloating voice.
"What else does she like?" he urged me. "Dates. Where would she go?"
I wagged my right forefinger at him. "Nu-uh. You have to decode that on your own."
Lucas groaned and said: "Fair enough. What kind of guy does she go for?"
I don't know! I wanted to shout at him. He wasn't usually Stacy's type--he was too soft and submissive. She always told me she was into grouchy but sensitive men. But then again, I could never decipher how my sister's crazy, unpredictable mind works.
"That, I cannot tell you," I answered Lucas, who deflated in his chair. "You have to be yourself, Lucas. You can't court Stacy if you intend to act with pretenses. She craves honesty."
Something I'm beginning to deprive her of.
My black-haired companion yielded to my advice. "Okay."
"Should we head out now?" I asked him.
Lucas quickly rose from his chair and pulled my chair for me, ever the gentleman. I thanked him.
He drove me home, and I stepped out of his white mustang, a sudden question dawning on me.
Where does he live?
I turned to look at him. He was rolling down his window and sticking his head out, smiling cutely.
"Something wrong?" Lucas called out. "You seemed thoughtful."
Not wanting to pry, I chose to ask him a different query: "When will you make your move?"
Lucas smiled up at me from inside his car. "Monday."
"Monday," I echoed, slowly nodding. One weekend away from now.
He bid me goodnight, to which I said: "Goodnight, Lucas."
And then he drove off, leaving me in my cluttered thoughts.. and a crooked heart.