Page 45 of Wrecked By a Devil

“Do you play?” I ask, pointing towards the pool table.

“I’ve tried a few times,” Riley responds. “But I wouldn’t say I play.”

“We can play later,” I call for the waiter. “We should order something. Are you hungry?”

“Actually, I am,” she blushes, hiding her face behind the drink. “I forgot to have dinner.”

When the waiter arrives, Riley decides to go for a large portion of French fries, suggesting we could share. The thought of eating from the same plate with her sends a ridiculous bolt of excitement through my body.

It’s so mundane.

I return my attention to Riley. “How was the performance tonight?”

“It was great.” Her face lights up at the mention of performing on stage. “I made a lot in tips. Actually, I was about to call an uber before seeing your car waiting for me.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about calling an uber from now on.”

Before she gets to answer, the waiter returns with our fries and I let her take the first bite. She dives in without holding back, bringing a smile to my face.

“What?” She asks, confused.

“It’s refreshing to see a woman not overthink before each bite,” I admit, reaching for a fry.

“Oh,” she chuckles. “Do you think we can order a milkshake as well?”

“You dip your fries into milkshake?” I raise an eyebrow, suddenly questioning this girl’s life choices.

“Don’t you?” She looks at me puzzled, as if I had just told her I don’t like fresh air. “I’d seriously reconsider us hanging out if you turn out to be a boring ketchup guy.”

“Would it be that bad?” I joke. “Maybe I don’t like dipping it into anything and eat it bland?”

“Ew,” she pretends to make a disgusted face. “That’s almost worse than the ketchup option.”

I reach out to take another fry at the same time as her and our fingers brush accidentally. Neither of us pulls away. Instead, we stay like that a heartbeat longer than necessary before she drops her empty hand on her lap. “You’ve been eating them bland all along, but now you’re suddenly judging me?”

“That’s because you didn’t offer to order milkshakes to begin with,” she shoots me a knowing look.

“We can fix that,” I quickly jump up from the seat and get to my feet.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Getting you a milkshake for your fries,” I wink. “At a bar… where people drink alcohol.”

I don’t wait for her to respond, instead I head to the counter and order a large chocolate milkshake for Riley. When I return, I find her with her face buried in her palms. She looks embarrassed and I can’t help but laugh.

“Here’s your milkshake,” I place the glass on the table next to her and she looks up at me.

“Thank you,” she says, reaching out for the straw. “But please don’t embarrass me like that again.”

“Oh, so I am embarrassing you?” I can’t believe my own ears.

“Yes,” she teases. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Which is?” I lean in, my elbows on the table.

“A paramedic baddie and stripper extraordinaire,” she grins, and then proceeds to dip her fry in the milkshake.

“I kinda like that,” I admit, taking another fry myself. “Can I try?”