Milia

The fact that Scott was in my home driveway at six sharp showed a lot. Frantically, he doesn't give a single damn about that invention called watch or that physical dimension called time. Also, it was a fact that he didn't consider the word 'late' in his word bank.

"I will have chicken wings, onion rings, soda, and you?" Finally, I put the menu down.

"No, I'm a full dude. I'll just have soda ." He laid back-patting his stomach. "Pleased, that's a part of my current job. I work here as a food critique; at some point, I realized it's legal to use my dad's reputation." He leaned back referring to his dad who owns a famous restaurant group. I wasn't surprised; that's Scott who will work in unstable but pleasing jobs rather than working in a fine income and lame one.

"I envy you for the amount of food." I imagined the perfect food he tastes every day. "Wait, your looks don't apply to a guy who's eating more than a rich plate in a day." Come on his arms were visible from his shirt and let me just say they were finely toned.

"Mi, I didn't get this tan from the LED lights in here; I participate in a beach animation team during the morning, and we do workouts." Removing a strand of hair away from his forehead, he rolled his hand through his hair.

A black and white dressed waitress came by our table and Scott started giving the order to her. The nickname he used earlier dragged me back to college days. The nostalgic Milia in me came out and wished she had a replay button for her days. The food came after a while of me and Scott catching up our lives.

"I miss Teressa a lot. How's she? I swear I can still remember her vibes." I asked biting a cheese finger he replaced instead of the oily onion rings.

"She's great. I love her Mi. Simply, she gets me and she accepts my messy, bohemian lifestyle as long as I insert her in my unique schedules you know."

"I'm happy for you!" I flashed a smile but it disappeared too soon for two reasons. One, he took a chicken wing. Yes, we are friends, but now we can't share food. "SCOTT!" I yelled at him.

"Calm your butt down we can order another one!" He freaked out with a grin.

"AS YOU SAY. ORDER-ANOTHER-ONE!" I stated. He knew my rules so well, but he couldn't hold himself from teasing me.

"Piss off!" I yelled as he grabbed a cheese finger. He had an amused smirk across his face because of how I turned to a four years old tempered kid.

Let's agree that we all break our rules at least one time. I worshipped this rule, but I did and decided to let him. Also, I decided to get back to reason number two. Two: there was this fascinatingly hot guy walking in the place.

I never knew that I was so into guys with dark red hair until this exact same moment, and I threw it to my bucket list. I chewed on the chicken with the help of soda still holding my gaze on his charm.

Scott adverted his attention from amusingly watching my temper to the direction of my gaze. He turned his face back to me and gave me the smirk of 'I can read your thoughts.'

In my whole life on this planet, there wasn't a thing on my bucket list achieved with this surprising speed.

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Note:

-Watch out for what you throw in your bucket list ;)

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Salma :)