***
JAMES BISHOP HADLEY IS CURSED, but he doesn't know it. Not yet, anyhow.
He'll know it when he's a ten minute drive away from the diner, back at his house, in the garden, with the ground on his cheek and dirt under his fingernails.
But not now, when he's surrounded by his friends, lazily discussing their plans for the winter break. Not when Morgan keeps kicking his foot and he keeps kicking back, not when Gregory and Sebastian are in earnest discussion about the virtues of Heraclitus and Morgan keeps whispering 'nerds' sotto voce.
Hadley folds his arms and settles his head onto his forearms. These are moments that he wishes would go on forever, and there isn't a thing he'd change about it. Not even Morgan's annoying kicking, not even the endless droning of Gregory and Sebastian's voices. This single moment belongs to him, to them. The smell of bacon and pancakes wafting through the air, the sunlight streaming in through the windows, the sound of forks and spoons scraping on plates—all of it belongs to them.
Except the waitress who keeps looking away every time Hadley glances at her. He's pretty sure that belongs to him.
Hadley closes his eyes.
Morgan kicks his shin. Hard.
"Wake up, asshole," she says.
Hadley cracks open an eye. "What?"
"Waitress is here," she says, inclining her head towards the waitress.
Hadley turns his head, not bothering to sit straight. He gives the waitress a once over—tanned, tall, red-head. And kind of cute, actually. It's the waitress that was shy about looking at Hadley when he looked at her.
He sits straight. "I'll take a sloppy joe special and a coke. No ice." He adds, "Please."
Morgan snickers. Hadley gives her a swift kick under the table.
"I'm sorry," says the waitress. "But we don't have coke at the moment. I can get you a Pepsi, if that's what you want."
"Aw," says Sebastian. "Shame. Jimmy's a total whore for coke. The drink, I mean."
"Would you mind shutting up?" says Hadley. To the waitress he says, "Do you really not have any coke?"
Morgan sniggers and mutters, "Coke-head."
The waitress—God bless her—ignores them and answers Hadley. Her cheeks are unmistakably flushed. "No. We don't. How's a milkshake sound?"
"Sure. A chocolate milkshake."
Morgan rolls her eyes. Hadley flips her off.
Once they're done ordering, and the waitress bustles off towards the counter, Gregory leans back in his chair and says, as authoritatively as he can, "Let's recap."
All of them, with the sole exception of Gregory, moan.
"We've been through this," says Sebastian.
"Three times." Morgan brushes a stray lock of blonde hair away from her face. "Can we please not?"
Ever since middle school, Morgan had taken it upon herself to act the token blonde bitch with an attitude. She certainly had the looks for it; porcelain smooth skin, sugary blonde hair and legs like whoa. Gregory and Sebastian played the role of the nerds with a fetish for philosophy and a more secret shared fetish for anime girls. Hadley's not too sure about his own character; he tries not to think too hard about it.
