Still holding my hand, he leads me into The Common’s cafeteria area.
Walking through the doors, I expect stares and hateful glares from the many students in the room. Shocked when other than a few ‘hellos’ to Kohl most continue with their meals. The room is crowded with round white tables, six black padded chairs at each, a food line at the back with various food stations scattered to the right. The left side of the room is a wall of windows allowing us a great view of the gray, cloud-covered, winter sky.
“So, what does Tensanne Craig like to eat?”
Looking down to my body, I mumble, “Everything, obviously.”
He must have heard me judging by his squinty eyes that scream, “Really? Did you really say that?”
I scramble to recover, “I think I’ll have a salad, a Diet Coke, and some chocolate pudding. Have you ever had the pudding? For something that comes from a can, it’s the best thing that will ever hit your tongue.”
His eyes heat to molten blue, “Best thing to hit my tongue, huh?”
“I mean the best chocolate to hit your tongue.”
I grab a tray and he shakes his head, smiling at me.
“Nope, this one’s my treat,” he insists taking the tray from my hands.
“But, I.”
“No, I asked you to lunch. It’s my treat. Now, come on,” he commands.
The Common’s is your typical college eating area. You grab a tray and move down the line selecting which items you want from the ones offered for the day, ending with a cooler full of milk, water, energy drinks and hair net covered lady taking your money or punching your student card. If you’re a wise punch card user, you grab enough on your tray to put in baggies and take back to your room for late night studying munchies.
Today’s offerings are Turkey Manhattan, meatloaf, steamed carrots, mashed potatoes and broccoli with desserts of chocolate cake, chocolate pudding, carrot cake and Jell-O. You can take as much or as little as you want so long as you have the money to pay for it.
Off to the side of the main line are a salad bar, a cereal bar, a burger station, a pizza warming carousel, an ice cream machine and a fountain soda machine. The burger station will make you any kind of sandwich you want. Hamburger, chicken or, for the vegetarian crowd, a veggie burger. All with a side order of fries. The pizza carousel offering five levels of different kinds of pizza for the day.
The smell of food fills the air but my nerves from being here with him outweigh my growling stomach.
Kohl is grabbing everything. He has meatloaf, broccoli, three puddings and Jell-O. When we reach the register, he tells the lady he also wants to add a hamburger, a salad bar, a slice of pizza and two fountain drinks to his order.
Good God, where is he going to put all that food?
Taking the tray to a table in the center of the room, he hands me my salad bar plate and heads to the burger station to order his sandwich while I make my salad. I’ve never been a huge ‘rabbit food’ type person but today a salad sounded good. Maybe Ronnie was right and I’m coming down with something, I think piling my plate with salad mix, some cheese, croutons, light dressing then heading back to the table. Kohl is there with both our soda cups filled and his mountain of food removed from the tray. Our table is a buffet. Pizza, pudding, burger, fries, meatloaf, Jell-O, broccoli; I can’t believe how much food is sitting in front of us.
“Do you always eat this much food?”
“Yep, gotta carb up to keep up my strength. Coach is grinding us to get ready for the season. Plus, I figured I would be able to tempt you into helping me eat some of it,” he replies waving a French fry under my nose.
Inhaling the salty, greasy scent, I can’t resist. I chomp down on the third wave pass my nose, nipping his finger. A moan slips out from my lips when the salty goodness hits my tongue.
Laughing when I give in to the temptation he pushes the plate my direction, pausing when the moan leaves my lips. His tongue darts out to wet his plump bottom lip, my eyes following its path wondering if his lips are as soft as they look.
Shaking his head, “See, I knew you didn’t just want a salad,” he gloats.
* * *
Kohl
A salad. She just wants a salad and pudding. Who the fuck just wants to eat salad and pudding? Her description of the pudding is one of the most erotic things I have ever heard and sent the blood rushing south straight to my dick. She didn’t even realize what she’d said.
I love the blush that stains her cheeks, it takes my thoughts straight to other ways I could warm her skin with my body rubbing along hers. I know she would taste so much better on my tongue than any chocolate pudding; unless she was offering to let me eat pudding off her body. Then it would be the best-tasting thing to hit my tongue.
If she could see inside my brain, she would never speak to me again; or would she? Maybe she would be on board with my ‘I’m in lust with Tensanne Craig’ train of thought.
Filling up my tray, I know I’ll be able to tempt her with some of this food. I will make sure that girl’s curves stay rockin’ if I have to feed her myself. I’m starving. Coach Turner has been kicking our asses at practice, our first game only two weeks away.
A comfortable silence settles
