Despite the fact that Corey and I had come at an off-peak time, the line inside Revolution was so long that I was tempted to turn around and leave. While the restaurant's food may have been great, the same couldn't be said about its service. Chronically understaffed, it wasn't unusual for the workers to start mixing up orders when the place got busy. Actually, it was far more surprising to look in your take-out bag and realize that you'd been given everything that you asked for. Revolution's reputation for making mistakes was the main reason why no one ever left without checking their order twice.

Fully aware that it might be after sunset by the time we got our food, I suggested to Corey that we should go somewhere else. Anywhere else, anywhere at all. But, of course, he shook his head. "Nah," he said. "We're already here; I'm not in a rush. Besides, the faster we get back to the house, the sooner I have to start my homework for tomorrow."

I wasn't in a hurry either, but that didn't mean that I wanted to spend my time listening to the guy working behind the counter as he called out people's names so that they could collect their food. Still, I decided that if Corey was happy to wait, then I'd have to grit my teeth and bear it. It wasn't as if I had any alternative restaurants in mind. Pulling out my phone, I listened to Corey out of one ear while I scrolled through my email app and deleted old messages. It was satisfying to watch entire pages of spam move to Trash, and it made the fact that we'd barely moved somehow easier to take.

Chuckling at the punchline of Corey's story, I looked up from my phone's screen when I heard a familiar voice say, "Hi, Scott."

Using one hand to return my phone to my back pocket, the other shot up to my hair. I tried to smooth down any cowlicks that might be sticking out, though I knew it was a lost cause.

"Oh, hey, Melanie," I said. "What are you doing here?"

Only after she smiled did I realize how stupid my question sounded. "Getting food," she replied. An empty cup peeked through the top of her tote bag's opening. "Happy birthday, by the way."

"Thank you."

Before I could register what was happening, she'd wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me into a hug. It was the first time Melanie had ever gone out of her way to touch me, and seeing her stand on her tiptoes made me realize how tiny she really was. As I awkwardly placed my hands above the small of her back, I felt Corey's stare boring into my skull. When Melanie pulled away, she extended a hand to Corey without missing a beat.

"Hi, I'm Melanie," she said, and a flash of recognition crossed Corey's features. He regarded her with a wide smile.

"Corey."

"Nice to meet you," Melanie replied, and she said it so kindly that I truly believed she thought it was nice to meet him. She turned back to me, her eyes now filled with concern. Her gaze flicked furtively back to Corey as she spoke. "Parker said last night got a little messy. Are you guys all okay?"

"Nothing a sandwich can't fix," Corey said, and Melanie beamed at him.

We spoke for a few more minutes, my fingers going crazy in an attempt to tame my hair. Melanie listened while I described the first club we'd gone to, her lip jutting into a pout. "Wait, I should've gone," she lamented, interrupting me. "I totally missed out."

"Yeah, you should've," I said, staring at the wine-colored lipstick that she wore. Lowering my voice, I asked, "Why didn't you?"

"You know why," she replied, and I nodded, though I really didn't.

Before I could think of anything else to add, Melanie said goodbye and excused herself so that she could walk over to the pick-up counter. I watched her go, painfully aware of the knowing gleam in Corey's eye.

"So, that's the Melanie you and Parker were talking about last night, right? Interesting."

Might as well get it over with, I thought. "What?"

"Are you not into redheads or something?" he asked.

"What are you talking about?"

Corey cast a glance in Melanie's direction. "That girl was feeling you so hard. Didn't you notice?"

My heart skipped a beat as we took several large steps towards the counter. I stared at the brightly colored menu board that hung on the wall. Maybe I was living proof that alcohol killed brain cells but I couldn't make any sense out of the descriptions of the listed specials. It was almost like I was staring at some ancient language instead of English.

"Yeah, I know," I said after a long pause.

"You know?" Corey sounded surprised. I nodded.

"Parker's been hinting at it lately."

"Which brings me back to my original question: please walk me through your ginger bias."

"I don't have one," I replied, deciding to take a gamble with something called The Bloody Conquistador.

"That's good." Corey looked at Melanie again and this time I followed his gaze. The empty cup that she'd been carrying had presumably been filled, and I watched while she sipped at her drink through a straw, one arm slung across her stomach. I swallowed as Corey said, "Because she's pretty hot."

I didn't respond, and fortunately I didn't have to. The boy working behind the counter motioned for Corey to move up and I waited while he rattled off his usual order. When he was finished, I leaned across the counter to tell the team member the name of the sandwich I wanted. He looked no older than a high school student, and, in stark contrast to the surly expression on his face, he wore a metal name tag on his apron that he'd covered in smiley face stickers. It took me a moment to find his name within the sea of decorations but eventually I spotted the same loopy typeface that the restaurant used on all of its posters: Bobby.

"Do you want soup or salad with that?" the teen asked me, each word sounding like it caused him physical pain.

"What kind of soup?"

"Minestrone, clam chowder, or the soup of the day."

"What's the soup of the day?"

Bobby pointed up at the same menu that I'd been looking at before. "It's a creamy potato and rosemary blend with bacon bits."

"Is it good?" I asked.

"Not really," Bobby replied, and then quickly looked over his shoulder at the middle-aged woman standing at the cashier point. She wore a slightly different uniform than his and I guessed that she was his manager. When she didn't react to what he'd said, he let out a long breath. "But some people like it."

"Oh. What kind of salad?"

Bobby sighed again. "You can get a caesar or Italian, unless you'd like to pay a dollar ninety-nine to upgrade to one of our new 'souper' salads." He drew air quotes around the cheesy promotional name. With an obviously sarcastic cheerfulness in his voice, he added, "With a 'souper' salad, you can choose between a cobb salad, a pear and gorgonzola salad, or coleslaw."

"Coleslaw?"

Bobby shrugged. "Last month it was egg salad."

"I see." I considered the options that he'd listed. "What was the second soup you mentioned?"

While Bobby looked like he wanted to reach across the counter and throttle me, Corey simply shook his head. "Dude," he muttered.

"Never mind, sorry." I reached into my back pocket for my wallet. "I'll have a caesar salad."

Bobby's expression didn't change. "Both of those orders to go?"

When Corey and I nodded, Bobby turned to the rack of breads behind him and took down two loaves. As he set them on the deli counter and drew a paring knife through their centers, Bobby said, "You'll get your collection ticket after you pay."

"So, what's your deal?" Corey asked as we crept forward in the line. I don't know why I'd been expecting him to forget about the conversation that we'd been having, but his question still caught me off guard. "Playing hard to get?"

I turned my wallet over in my hands. "That's not it either."

"You're losing me."

"It's hard to explain."

Now Corey looked like he wanted to punch me, too. "Listen," he said, "I know you and Parker like to do this whole routine where you dance around the issue until the person you're talking to magically guesses what you're trying to say, but I'm too hungover to play charades today. Either sack up and tell me to mind my own business, or spit it out."

In spite of myself, I laughed. "I don't know," I began. "Yeah, she's cute."

Once the words left my mouth, I realized that it gave me a strange rush of excitement to know that Melanie was only standing a few feet away. At the same time, I was grateful that the restaurant was loud enough that she wouldn't be able to hear me from where she stood. At least, I hoped that she wouldn't.

"Cute's an understatement." Corey frowned. "I'm still not seeing the problem, by the way."

"There really isn't one," I lied as I thought about Michael and the relentless teasing I'd endure if he ever found out I was even remotely interested in a girl he'd dated--even if they had only gone out once. "But, you know, I've got this thing with Gemma--"

"Gemma's nice, too," Corey admitted, though I knew he was only talking about her looks. He shook his head. "Damn, I wish I had your problems."  

"What do you mean?"

"Seriously?" Moving his hands like balancing scales, Corey's voice took on a mocking edge as he said, "Oh, God, I have these two girls who can't get enough of me, and I just can't decide which one I want. Boo-hoo, my life's so hard."

"Shut up."

Despite laughing good-naturedly, Corey gave me the finger. "Screw you, Donahue."

"You're making things sound way simpler than they actually are."

Corey's eyebrows shot up. "Am I?"

"Yeah, you are." I glanced in Melanie's direction again and felt a twinge of panic when I saw that she was staring at us. When I met her eye, she smiled and looked away. I lowered my voice. "Look, I mean, Melanie's definitely... She's great, but I could never do anything with her while I'm with Gemma."

Corey studied me for a long beat. "Tell me something," he said as the song playing over the restaurant's speakers changed. "What does Gemma call you when she's talking to her friends?"

"Uh, probably Scott." 

He rolled his eyes. "What I was trying to ask was whether or not you and Gemma have a label. You know, if she introduced you at a party, would she say, 'This is my boyfriend'?"

I winced. Reluctantly, I mumbled, "I mean, maybe. It depends."

"Maybe?"

"No, she wouldn't."

Corey stroked his chin. "But, you've asked her to make it official, right?"

Whether or not he trying to bruise my ego, my pride certainly felt battered by his questions. "A few times."

"And she said no?"

"That's right." I cleared my throat. "She wants to keep things casual."

"Then, you're single. Congratulations." When he saw the look on my face, he added, "Or not, I guess."

"I really don't feel single," I admitted. I grabbed a pre-wrapped cookie from the dessert tray near the register. The small paper bag that it was in still felt warm, so I pressed down on the cookie's center and watched grease begin to peek out from beneath my fingers. Delicious.  

"Doesn't matter how you feel," Corey replied. "You don't have to like it, but you should at least accept the fact that you do not have a girlfriend right now."

"Thanks for the heads up." I tried to keep my voice lighthearted but heard my efforts fall flat.

Corey's face twisted with sympathy. "Sorry. On the bright side, nothing's stopping you from going after Melanie if you want to."

"Oh, okay, cool. Great. Then what? Start hooking up with both of them?" Although I'd meant it as a joke, I wasn't that surprised when Corey shrugged.

"Why not?"

"I can't do that."

"Again," he said, "why not? You used to get around."

He smirked when I socked him on the shoulder. "Whatever," I said, embarrassed. "I don't even know where that reputation came from."

"It's not true?"

"It's definitely been exaggerated."

Corey looked doubtful. "Fine," I said, rolling my eyes. "Fine, yeah, I did. But I was never seeing anyone regularly at the time; those were all one time things."

"Really?"

"Jesus, what do you think of me? Besides, I went through that phase after the first time Gemma and I broke up, alright?"

"Standard coping mechanism, I guess."

"Exactly," I said. "Anyway, what I learned from that semester is that I can only handle so much drama in my life. Girls are hard work."

"Fair play," Corey conceded. "Like I said, though, you're not really seeing anyone this time either. You're basically a free agent."

I stared down at my shoes. "It still doesn't seem very... Nice."

Corey blinked as he echoed, "Nice?"

"Yeah, nice. I'm a nice guy now, okay? Sue me."

Instead of making fun of me, though, he smiled. "Aw, your mom must be proud."

"She's not."

Corey ignored what I'd said. "But, isn't that the whole point of keeping things casual? To see who else is out there?" he asked. "No offense, but if Gemma really didn't want you to hang out with anyone else, I think she'd try to lock you down."

"Sure, but what about Melanie?"

"Huh?"

I coughed to clear the tickle in my throat. I hoped that I wasn't getting sick. "Let's say something did happen between the two of us. She doesn't seem like the type of girl who'd be happy hooking up without some sort of commitment." 

"Be straight with her then. Tell her you're not looking for anything serious and see how it goes."

But I don't know what I'm looking for, I thought ruefully, though I kept that to myself.

My conversation with Corey shifted after that, and when we finally reached the cash register, I was so happy to have made it to the end of the line that I slipped a dollar into the tip jar, and then added another. God knows that Bobby didn't deserve it but the realization that I'd soon be walking back home with food in tow filled me with joy. No sooner than I'd finished paying did Melanie come up with a carryout bag in her hand.

"I can't believe how busy this place is," she commented, and Corey and I both murmured our agreement.

"What'd you get?" I asked.

Melanie shrugged. "Nothing special. Salad, a cup of soup. And, yet, they still managed to get my order wrong, so maybe I made things more complicated than I'd originally thought."

My attention had once again drifted to Melanie's mouth while she spoke, and I couldn't help but notice that she had two tiny freckles above her upper lip. "Anyway," she said, breaking my trance, "I'll see you guys later."

"See you," I said, and with a little wave, Melanie walked over to the soda machine to refill her drink.

When I turned back to face him, Corey was rubbing his eyes. "Okay, I have to be honest," he began. "You might have morals, but you're an idiot."

"I've already told you--"

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine. All I'm saying is that it's probably a mistake to put your life on hold for a girl who wants to keep her options open. Just, you know, think about it."

I considered that for a moment and then scanned the room until I spotted Melanie. She seemed to be moving at an unusually slow pace as she peeled the plastic lid from the mouth of her cup. It was almost as if she could hear the debate waging inside my head and she was waiting to see what I would do. Despite the guilt I felt in admitting it, deep down I knew that Corey was right. In stark contrast to when we'd gone to dinner earlier in the month, Gemma and I had been arguing again recently, though I did my best not to let anyone catch on to that fact. I wanted to believe that Gemma and I would work things out in the future, but a large part of me was scared that I was just chasing a dream. I'd been running after it for so long, though, I wasn't sure if I could stop. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to.

"I feel like you're giving me really bad advice right now," I said, trying to stall.

"Man, if you feel that torn up about it, take dating her off the table, then," Corey replied. "No matter what happens with Gemma, there's nothing wrong with just getting to know Melanie better, right? And at least that way she'll have a reason not to completely give up on you."

At the heart of the uncertainty I felt as I stood there was the concern that listening to Corey would make me a terrible person. He was right, of course; I could hang out with Melanie without making a move on her, no problem. On the other hand, there was a reason why I'd never tried to spend time with her individually outside of our tutoring sessions and walking her home. Even without Parker's hints, I'd known for a while that Melanie and I had been toeing the line between friendly flirting and possibly starting something more. There was an energy that passed between us whenever she and I spoke, sort of like a hum that grew louder the longer I was around her. The problem was that the moment I thought about Gemma, that hum faded into silence--just like that. It was weird not to know if I liked Melanie or just appreciated how different she was from Gem, and the fact that I couldn't answer that question was exactly why I didn't want to lead her on. Still...

"Hang on a minute," I said, moving away from Corey before I could chicken out. I took a deep breath while I walked up to Melanie, and, like clockwork, she looked up at me and smiled. The sight of her easy grin sent my hand flying straight back to my hairline and I cursed my body for betraying my nervousness.

"What's wrong?" Melanie asked. Her eyebrows furrowed with confusion, and I opened and closed my mouth without saying anything, still unsure if I wanted to unlock the door that currently stood between us. "Scott?"

I swallowed. Although Gemma's face danced in front of my eyes, when I opened my mouth again, I heard myself ask, "What are you doing later?"

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A/N: Happy Peyton Manning Day (er, Day After)! I must confess - I love when characters act with an ambiguous set of morals. It makes things interesting. Anyhow, thank you very much for reading and voting! This story reached its highest ranking yet on Sunday, which was exciting, and it's all thanks to you guys. :')  If you see typos, it's because I'm posting this at 4am. Next update will be on Saturday!

(Bonus Round: Guess what Scott and Melanie will be doing for their friend-"date.")