“Just what the-” I hold up my friends as she throws the shoes at me, completely missing me.
“Put those on!” She shouts while crossing her arms. “And get on your coat. We’re going for burgers.”
“But-“
“Move!” She turns on her heel.
I blink while I slowly bend down to pick up my shoes, completely stunned. Just what the hell got into her? And is she planning on feeding me poisoned burgers? I shove my feet into the shoes, not even bothering to untie them or lace them properly. I’m too afraid what she’s going to do to me if I take my sweet time.
“Hurry up!” She shouts from the living room.
“I’m coming,” I call back, biting down the urge to smile.
***
I watch Rachel throw back her head and moan, totally spell bound as she continues to chew her hamburger while we sit outside the burger joint. There’s a red and white plaid umbrella above us while we sit in at a wooden picnic table on the sidewalk. The other picnic tables don’t have their umbrella’s up, but then again most normal customers would rather sit inside. It’s probably a little too cold to be doing this, but the joint was completely full inside and sitting in stuffy air with people shouting over each other while eating this crap is never my thing. Thankfully, the owner was kind enough to give us blankets. Rachel looks all comfy wrapped from head to toe in the big red and white plaid blanket. She’s wearing a huge black wool scarf and matching hat to complete the comfy getup.
Cute, I think while watching her chew. Bossy, but definitely cute.
“Well, aren’t you going to eat?” She motions towards my cheese drenched fries and my giant two patty burger, which I haven’t even touched. I’ve been too engrossed watching this weird art girl eat as if she never had a burger in her life.
“I’m working on it,” I say while grabbing a french fry and shoving it into my mouth.
“This is the best,” moans Rachel in between bites of her food.
I chuckle. “Don’t they have burgers where you’re from?”
She shrugs. “Yeah, but this is my first one in Colorado. And it tastes even better after getting paid.”
“You sound like Seth.”
I notice her cheeks go a bit red at the mention of the track and field star. The way she looks away from me makes me wonder if the idiot did something to her. Again. Well, I can’t deny my joy at getting her to clean the flat and drive her crazy, but sometimes Seth really did take things too far. And, I don’t even know why. She’s cute. Definitely not a big breasted Playboy Bunny hottie, but she’s very cute. I’m beginning to wonder if that’s my niche. So many guys I know go for big breasts, nice ass, long legs, brunettes or blondes, and sure, I like girls. I like lots of girls. But I’m beginning to think that cute and bossy are definitely my type.
I wonder what Seth’s type is? He seems to go for lots of girls, but I’ve never seen him act so cruel to any of them like how he acts around this girl. I try to imagine Seth making a move on Rachel, but it’s hard. Most likely he would just make fun of her, pull her hair and she would respond with some shouting and scowling. Doubtful that would ever get anywhere, I tell myself. But still, she seems completely enamored with her burger. She still refuses to look at me.
“So, do you want to talk about it now?” She asks, her gaze now pointing daggers at my shoulder.
I sigh and shake my head. “Not really.”
“But won’t it make you feel better getting it off your chest?”
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m not a little girl.”
“And I’m not a psycho bitch,” she responds while leaning in close to me.
I really can’t stop smiling. “Fair enough.” I take a bite of my burger, and it really is good. Usually I eat whatever junk is closest without paying any mind to taste, just so long as it fills me up and keeps my engine running. But this. It really is fantastic.
“See,” says Rachel with a dopey smile. “I told you.”
I nod. “You sure did.” I take another bite and think of my mother, so skinny and small compared to the robust woman she used to be before the cancer hit. I remember her making stuff like this in the kitchen before the disease hit. I remember her singing while she cooked, which would drive me crazy since she was so tone deaf.
I really miss those days.
“Are you okay?” Asks Rachel, putting her hand on mine.
I shrug. “I was just thinking about my mom.”
“Your Mom?”
I nod. “She’s at home now. In remission.” I stare down at the ketchup and mustard mess in front of me. “She has breast cancer. Lost both. She’s not really… the same.”
“But she’s okay now?”
“For now,” I take another bite. I don’t really want to talk about this. The bros know all about my mom, but we never talk about her. We never talk about anything emotional. Just party hard like there’s no tomorrow. But everyone has their problems and this thing with my mom has always been like a dark cloud over the group. It just hovers above us, always there yet never mentioned. Just like my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t know.” Rachel’s hand slides away and I watch her set down her food and lean back against the bench. She looks off into the distance, her gaze staring at the snowy peaks around us.
“Well, I didn’t tell you.”
“It must be hard watching your mom go through that.”
I hang my head, shaking it slowly. “It’s even harder now, not being with her. Knowing she’s suffering and I
