Thirty minutes later, my Impala was parked outside Jerry's, the best breakfast diner in town.

I was ready to put Jerry to the test.

Michael wore a black three-quarter sleeve tight on his biceps while I stayed cozy in his sage hoodie and some baggy jeans. He reached the door first and held it open.

Instinctively, I grumbled to myself. "Michael. Seriously?"

"Sorry," he grinned. "Couldn't help it."

"What's next, you gonna buy me some earrings?"

He moved a hand to my lower back to herd me through the door. I rolled my eyes, but didn't push him away. "Let's try breakfast for now. Earrings can come later."

Later. I let the word swim in my brain. Michael was a man-whore with commitment issues and dishonest tendencies. I'd have to be a complete idiot to think he was devoted to me.

But one date couldn't hurt.

We took a table by the window and smiled awkwardly as we sat, like two middle schoolers holding hands for the first time. The walls of the diner were red, the floors checkered black and white. The waitress, an older woman with streaks of white ribboning throughout her pristine bun, scurried around the tables tapping icons on a tablet.

My stomach was in knots, but I couldn't tell if I was feeling giddy or nervous. Or just hungry.

I felt a definite rumble amid the swirl of anxiety. Watching the man two tables over cut into a steaming omelet didn't help. He talked quickly as he ate, waving his hands around as if he were discussing something important.

Across from him sat another man, skinny legs crossed, glasses drooping on his nose as he nodded along and scribbled into a notebook. Several coffee cups were placed haphazardly between the jumble of papers on the table.

"See," I said. "Dudes get breakfast together all the time."

Michael turned toward them. The man talking seemed about forty, with a neatly trimmed beard and hair combed over to poorly disguise a bald patch. The skinny man looked up and adjusted his glasses.

"Yeah, they're definitely fucking," he said.

"Morning! Can I get you started with some coffee?" The waitress was suddenly at my shoulder.

"He hates coffee," Michael jumped in before I could reply. "Two glasses of orange juices, please."

The woman blinked past her surprise and broke into a warm grin before setting two menus down on the table. "Two orange juices. Coming right up."

"Michael," I hissed as soon as she walked away. "I don't hate coffee. We've been over this. And can you please refrain from ordering for me next time?"

He gave a one-shouldered shrug. "You seemed to struggle with it at dinner so I figured I'd help you out."

I crossed my arms around myself, fighting off the urge to pout like a toddler. My whole life, I'd dreaded ordering food, raising my hand in class, or speaking up in any manner. Relying on Sarah to do all the talking had been a blessing and a curse.

"I can order for myself," I said firmly.

He smirked. "Look at you, what a big boy."

"Did I ever tell you I hate you?"

"Yeah," he said. "You also told me you love me."

My stomach stirred uneasily. The waitress returned and set down our drinks, but the orange juice did little to help me relax. Maybe if it had some tequila. Yum. Tequila sunrise.

Michael ordered eggs benedict on toast while I opted for waffles. I hadn't had waffles in years. I could picture them now. Crispy, golden waffles with fruit and butter and whipped cream. I was practically drooling at the thought.

"From now on, no more skipping meals." Michael leaned back in his chair, his arms hanging loosely over his lap. "Your bones are gonna start showing."

You can tell a lot about a person from their body language. His body language was relaxed, comfortable. I tried to mimic him, forcing my arms to uncross and my shoulders to fall from their tight stoop. "I have a fast metabolism," I said.

"Which is exactly why you should eat more. Protein and carbs. One little puny slice of pizza a day is nothing. Gotta get some meat in."

"Suddenly you're a dietitian, huh?" I took another sip of orange juice. Michael would be the perfect spokesman for those annoying fitness ads that always popped up on YouTube. "Fine. I'll eat more burgers. You got any other orders for me?"

He gave a smug grin. "Yeah, actually I do."

I took a slow sip through my straw. "This should be good."

"Start going to class on time, do your work so you don't get kicked out, and uh-" His voice lowered slightly. "Never take anything from Rolph's safe again."

"Oh my god," I groaned. "They were ADHD meds."

"Consider yourself lucky." He pushed the straw out of the way and took a gulp from his glass. "Next time might be rat poison."

"Okay," I agreed. "But I still want to get fucked up. Smoke crack or something."

"Why do you want to smoke crack?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. 'Cuz I'm in college. That's what people in college do."

"Smoke crack?"

"I don't know!" I practically yelled. "I've never been to college before."

Michael shook his head. Looked like a disappointed mother. I chewed on the inside of my cheek. "Look," he said after a long moment. "I get it. You're young. You're naive. I smoke. I've done a line or two before, okay? I'm not gonna sit here and say drugs are bad, but drugs are bad, bro. You don't wanna go down that route. I mean, smoke crack? Have you ever met a real crackhead?"

"No," I mumbled. I felt silly now.

The waitress returned with our plates. My waffles smelled delicious. Two of the four were sprinkled with sugar, while the others were topped with a thick blueberry syrup. Michael dug in, forking off a chunk of poached egg so the yolk ran down his toast.

We ate for a few minutes, the clink of silverware and sound of chewing filling the silence. The waffles were amazing, the blueberry syrup thick and not too sweet. He smiled at the sight of my purple lips and I hid behind a napkin.

"Alright, that was a bit harsh," he said after a pause. "I have this instinct to barge in and try to fix people's problems. Especially when I care about them. But I can listen too. If you just want someone to talk to."

A few tables away, a grinning father was holding a little girl with braids and colorful beads in her hair. She shrieked excitedly as he cut her a forkful of fluffy pancakes. A slow ache spread throughout my chest as I watched them.

"You don't need to listen to my problems," I said. "That's what the psych majors are for."

"Well, I'm a gen studies major with no clue what to do with his life, so close enough."

"Can't you go be a farmer with your uncle?"

"I could," he said. "But then I'd have to say goodbye to Daddy's money. It's sort of the deal we made about me staying in school. And I'd still have to pay off my loans from last year."

I shook my head, eyebrows knitted. "Why do you hate your dad? He sounds like he cares."

Michael struggled for the words. I had to admit, it was nice to hear about someone else's family issues for once. "I don't hate him," he said finally. "I just don't get along with him. And I know he thinks I'm a failure compared to Conner. That's my brother." His leg bounced under the table. "I guess I am. In the traditional sense anyway. But I don't need to be a millionaire to be happy. Just give me an average job and good people in my life and I'll be set."

I took another bite of waffles and chewed slowly. I had written him off as a spoiled rich kid before, and yeah, he had his issues, but he seemed pretty self-aware for nineteen.

"For the record, I don't... talk about myself much either." He cut a triangle of Canadian bacon and egg. "So I get it. But I'm here."

"I'll talk. Just need to be buzzed first." I downed the rest of my orange juice as if I could magically turn it to liquor.

We took our time eating, Michael waiting patiently until I'd finished everything on my plate, and after that we hung around for a while longer. He told me more about his Uncle Gio, the farm, stories from his childhood. I had less to offer, but I was happy just to sit and listen to him talk.

When he smiled, the corners of his mouth wrinkled slightly, teeth flashed, and I thought he was the most attractive person on earth: hot, cute, hot again, perfect.

I wanted to trust him. Wanted it so bad.

But I didn't know if I could take another disappointment.

╭-°—✞—˚✧❨✧˚—✞—°-╮

╰-°—✞—˚✧❨✧˚—✞—°-╯

"How did you manage to get a license?" Michael asked as Walmart's automatic doors opened for us. "That was the worst driving I've ever seen in my life." He'd spent the entirety of the six-minute drive clinging to the grab handle.

"I don't know." I tossed a family size bag of Lay's that had been strategically placed by the checkout into our cart. "Maybe the driving instructor thought I was cute."

"Probably thought you were pathetic and took pity."

We turned down one of the first aisles, which had been decked out for Halloween. At once I was bombarded with plastic pumpkin decorations, skeleton props that talked and lit up, and every brand of candy known to man. I grabbed a few bags and threw them in with the chips.

"Look, Snow White," Michael said, tapping one of the costumes in plastic packaging. "You could be a dwarf." He glanced down at me and widened his eyes. "A very angry little dwarf."

Before I could bite back with a response, he had already pushed our cart to the next aisle. I turned the corner only to see him holding up a lacy white bodysuit.

"Look at this, huh?" He held it out in your direction. "Seems about your size."

I was at a loss of words, once again flabbergasted by his shameless behavior. But it was Michael. I shouldn't have even been surprised at this point.

I took the costume in hand and squinted at it. The bodysuit had a lining of pink fuzz running along the edges, as well as white cuffs and ears. "What even is this?" I said. "Stripper garb?"

"A bunny," he said, pointing to the label. "Since apparently you can't read."

I stared at the underwire bra cups and frowned. "Unfortunately I think I'm missing two of the key components," I muttered before hanging it on the rack.

"Woah, woah, woah." Michael snatched it back and placed it in our cart. "Always good to keep our options open."

I just shook my head, reaching instead for a costume of Woody from Toy Story. "Is this too childish?"

"For a party at the local elementary school? No, not at all. Just make sure you don't spill any grape juice on it or Mom's gonna be pissed."

"Fuck you. All you had to say was yes."

"Just wear a Batman t-shirt or something," Michael said. "Actually, that might not be believable. Maybe try Robin."

Times like these, I really wished I was smart enough to think of a comeback.

We did a little food shopping, got some essentials like napkins and toilet paper, then circled back to the clothing section where Rolph was working. I grimaced as the cart slowly filled. Woody smiled up at me atop a stack of Maruchan noodles balanced in one corner.

"Dude, try to budget a little," I said. "I only brought fifty bucks."

"In this economy?" Michael shook his head before cutting off an elderly man with our cart. "What's that gonna get you, a box of cereal?" He dropped a pack of white socks onto the pile. "Socks. Always need socks."

I looked back in time to share an awkward glance with the man, who raised his wrinkled middle finger to me.

Behind the counter at the fitting rooms stood Rolph, dressed in a blue Walmart vest with the yellow spark logo on the back. He looked different, almost wrong, without his tank top and cowboy hat combo.

"Hey!" He brightened up right away when he saw us. "What's good, Mikey?" The pair immediately launched into their bizarre handshake.

"What's good, man?" Michael clapped him on the back.

"You hungover after last night or what?" Rolph gave a weird little laugh and stuck out his tongue.

"Uh, no, actually," said Michael. "But Benjamin here was straight tripping on that Adderall."

"No I was not." I pushed him out of the way so I could stand next to Rolph. "Can I try acid next? We decided against crack."

Rolph's eyes drifted above me to give Michael a look that said is he for real? and Michael just shrugged and shook his head.

"Look, I got some stuff to grab," my roommate said. "You should try on that costume though." He tapped my shoulder in passing and looked back at Rolph. "You mind watching him? Make sure he doesn't die or anything?" 

"No problem, man, I'm bored as shit." Rolph shook the hair out of his eyes and slid around the corner, making his name tag sway from side to side. His eyebrows raised at the slip of pink and white material in our cart. "That's, uh... a gift?"

My face colored a deep scarlet as I lifted Woody out of the cart. "Oh, that one's just a joke."

"Mmm-hmm." Rolph reached around the counter and selected a white number tag with a 1 on it. "This way," he said, waving me to the row of fitting rooms. "Let me know if you need help with anything."

I ignored him and closed the door firmly behind me. Inside, the mirror was held to the wall with a thick layer of duct tape, and every few seconds it gave a loud cracking sound and lurched dangerously.

Lovely.

I tried on the Woody costume as quickly as I could, just in case the mirror decided to commit suicide in front of me. I wouldn't put it past Rolph to stick the blame on me and say I broke it or something. The costume looked stupid, but it was better than Snow White.

My phone lit up as I was pulling my jeans back up.

Michael ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️: Try on the bunny costume and I'll buy 😘

Jesus. I really needed to change that contact name. I tapped to edit and replaced the hearts he had entered with a cow emoji.

Me: you try it on jackass

Michael 🐮: Maybe I will

I stepped out of the fitting room and deposited the Woody costume back in our cart. Rhoda wasn't going to be happy with me, showing up to her party in such an abhorrence. Especially when everyone else was going to be dressed like they were in a strip joint.

My eyes fell on the bunny suit.

It had a fuzzy white ball for a tail, which was glued just above the ass. Two white garters connected to silky thigh-highs.

Me: $100 and i'll do it

If I was going to dress like a stripper, I might as well get paid.

Michael 🐮: The waffles weren't enough??

Michael 🐮: Fine

Shaking my head, I retreated to the fitting room and kicked off my sneakers. There was a plastic sticker inside the costume that said FOR HYGIENIC PURPOSES. PLEASE KEEP YOUR UNDERWEAR ON WHILE TRYING ON THIS GARMENT. REMOVE ONLY AFTER PURCHASE. I gave the bodysuit a quick scan for any suspicious stains then pulled it up over my hips.

Much to my dismay, it actually fit pretty well. Minus my clear lack of boobs and a little too much happening in the crotch area.

Me: it's on. get in here

Me: hey

Me: broooo

Me: ANSWER YOU ASSHOLE

Gingerly, I poked my head outside the door. Rolph stood by the counter, sorting through the number tags and humming to himself.

Me: michael, i swear to god

And then he appeared, dumping an armful of new items into the cart, ranging from poptarts to a pillow. I rapped on the side of the fitting room door and made a harsh beckoning gesture with my hand.

"Hey, hey, hey," Rolph said as my roommate ducked past the counter. "Don't do anything I gotta clean up."

Michael took a long glance at me and whistled. He was looking at me like I was water in the middle of a desert.

"Satisfied?" I asked in a bored tone.

"No. Not even close." He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and took out a twenty dollar bill, which he tucked beneath the pink fur lining of the bodysuit. "Can I give you the rest later?"

I nodded then hid my smile as he wrapped his strong arms around my frame and buried his face in my neck with a slow inhale.

"Dude, stop," I mumbled. "There's probably cameras in here."

He straightened up reluctantly and let his hand linger on my waist, thumb grazing my stomach. A tuft of his blonde hair hung down over his forehead. "I'll be up front when you're ready. You want that cowboy costume?"

"Nah. Looks like I struck out."

"You look nice," he said.

"I look ridiculous."

Michael chuckled, giving me that smile again that sent my stomach into cartwheels. "See you up front, bunny," he murmured before ducking out of the fitting room.

I shook my head to myself, eyes landing on my reflection. I really did look ridiculous. But for some reason I couldn't stop smiling.