Check, Please (Book #2)

Nineteen.

Despite the fact that Corey and I had come at an off-peak time, the line inside Revolution was so long that I was tempted to turn around and leave. While the restaurant's food may have been great, the same couldn't be said about its service. Chronically understaffed, it wasn't unusual for the workers to start mixing up orders when the place got busy. Actually, it was far more surprising to look in your take-out bag and realize that you'd been given everything that you asked for. Revolution's reputation for making mistakes was the main reason why no one ever left without checking their order twice.

Fully aware that it might be after sunset by the time we got our food, I suggested to Corey that we should go somewhere else. Anywhere else, anywhere at all. But, of course, he shook his head. "Nah," he said. "We're already here; I'm not in a rush. Besides, the faster we get back to the house, the sooner I have to start my homework for tomorrow."

I wasn't in a hurry either, but that didn't mean that I wanted to spend my time listening to the guy working behind the counter as he called out people's names so that they could collect their food. Still, I decided that if Corey was happy to wait, then I'd have to grit my teeth and bear it. It wasn't as if I had any alternative restaurants in mind. Pulling out my phone, I listened to Corey out of one ear while I scrolled through my email app and deleted old messages. It was satisfying to watch entire pages of spam move to Trash, and it made the fact that we'd barely moved somehow easier to take.

Chuckling at the punchline of Corey's story, I looked up from my phone's screen when I heard a familiar voice say, "Hi, Scott."

Using one hand to return my phone to my back pocket, the other shot up to my hair. I tried to smooth down any cowlicks that might be sticking out, though I knew it was a lost cause.

"Oh, hey, Melanie," I said. "What are you doing here?"

Only after she smiled did I realize how stupid my question sounded. "Getting food," she replied. An empty cup peeked through the top of her tote bag's opening. "Happy birthday, by the way."

"Thank you."

Before I could register what was happening, she'd wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me into a hug. It was the first time Melanie had ever gone out of her way to touch me, and seeing her stand on her tiptoes made me realize how tiny she really was. As I awkwardly placed my hands above the small of her back, I felt Corey's stare boring into my skull. When Melanie pulled away, she extended a hand to Corey without missing a beat.

"Hi, I'm Melanie," she said, and a flash of recognition crossed Corey's features. He regarded her with a wide smile.

"Corey."

"Nice to meet you," Melanie replied, and she said it so kindly that I truly believed she thought it was nice to meet him. She turned back to me, her eyes now filled with concern. Her gaze flicked furtively back to Corey as she spoke. "Parker said last night got a little messy. Are you guys all okay?"

"Nothing a sandwich can't fix," Corey said, and Melanie beamed at him.

We spoke for a few more minutes, my fingers going crazy in an attempt to tame my hair. Melanie listened while I described the first club we'd gone to, her lip jutting into a pout. "Wait, I should've gone," she lamented, interrupting me. "I totally missed out."

"Yeah, you should've," I said, staring at the wine-colored lipstick that she wore. Lowering my voice, I asked, "Why didn't you?"

"You know why," she replied, and I nodded, though I really didn't.

Before I could think of anything else to add, Melanie said goodbye and excused herself so that she could walk over to the pick-up counter. I watched her go, painfully aware of the knowing gleam in Corey's eye.