ABOUT: The olive theory...
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lowercase intended.

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Charlie and I were at this little restaurant because he wanted to be a gentleman and forced me out of the comfort of my house to be here.

He begged me to be here.

So, as the food girlie i am, i obviously just accepted it at the end.

The waitress came over and placed down our food in front of us. I got a grilled chicken sandwich, because i'm in a sandwich mood. Charlie got the same thing but fried. Cause he's greasy.

"These look so good," charlie practically drools over his food as he picks it up.

I take the top bun off the bread as i take the pickles off. I always save the best for last!

"do you not like pickles," he asks.

"i do. I just save them for last," i say as i placed the bun back on and take a bite.

We also got some side salads for our burger. It cancels out the unhealthy, obviously.

We begin digging in our food. And it was delicious. It was iffy coming here but food makes it better... and Charlie.

"Want my olives," he starts picking at his olives from his salad.

My eyes lit up. I love olives.

"Yes!"

He smiles as he hands me the olives with his fork. Letting one slip off but he picked it back up.

No, we aren't together, but he knows I love olives. He says he doesn't, so oh well.

We continue to eat our sandwich as we talk and laugh. I was listening most of the time. I was busy eating.

"Then I got hit in the balls, but it's okay. The pain went away," he was talking about baseball practice.

"Are you sure it went away that quickly? I mean... i heard ball hits were really painful. Unless you're lying to me and you were actually crying for hours," i laugh.

He playfully gasped offended, "no way, i'm a man."

I take the last bite of my sandwich with the finishing sip of my water.

I start to eat my sliced pickles.

"You want my pickles?"

I look up at him confused. Cause he would never give away his pickles. I've secretly seen him eat a whole jar of them.

"you like pickles, don't you?"

"well, yeah, but—"

"then here," he starts to move his pickles into my pile of pickles.

"okay... thanks," i shrug it off but smile before i eat it.

All he does is smile.

"don't you like pickles," i asked him.

"nah."

"mhm..." i say in response, not really believing him.

"pickles are so disgusting."

"yeah, okay.."

———

He pays for the food as we begin to take our leave.

"so are you at your dad's this week," i ask him.

"yep! he's not home right now, he's off doing dad stuff," he says nonchalantly.

"hey, charlie?"

"yeah?"

"why did you give me your olives and pickles?"

"cause you like them and i don't. Don't want to get them wasted, you know," he chuckles.

"yeah, but you like them. Well, i know you like pickles," i say.

"not true," he denies me.

"i've seen you eat a whole jar of pickles before when you thought i was gone," i say.

"okay, you weren't supposed to see that. but fine," he sighs before he continues, "you like pickles and somehow you like olives but i give them to you cause it makes you smile."

I smile at his thoughtfulness, "i appreciate that. Don't worry, i'll gift you a whole two jars of pickles for you next birthday."

He smiles, "i'll share them with you."

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