Chapter Seventeen

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Do I confront Ben and tell him he grabbed the wrong check, or do I just pay for his and later, if he discovers the error, lie and say that I thought I grabbed mine?

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Do I confront Ben and tell him he grabbed the wrong check, or do I just pay for his and later, if he discovers the error, lie and say that I thought I grabbed mine?

In a hasty manner, I decided to simply grab his check and pay. But with what money?

Thankfully Ben was already at the counter, the elderly cashier cheerfully ringing him up, which allowed me the opportunity to signal to Ginger.

I waved my hand above my head just long enough to catch her eye. She politely excused herself from Tommy and Josh, a confused expression lacing her facial features.

"What's wrong?" she whipsered, once in front of the table.

I gestured towards my crutches (just in case anyone was watching), but said, "I don't have many money to pay for my breakfast. Can you spot me"--I glanced down at the check on the table--"seventeen dollars?"

My eyes widened as I read the small but clearly printed numbers. I tried to mask my surprise, a sudden pang of regret rising inside of me.

"Seventeen dollars?" Ginger echoed in surprise, her eyebrows raised. "What on earth did you order?"

"The food is expensive," I mumbled, watching Ginger produce a twenty dollar bill from her pocket. She swiftly handed it to me and began to leave when I exclaimed, "Wait! I really do need my crutches!"

She spun on her heel and playfully rolled her eyes.

"You better pay me back," she uttered with a smile, before returning to the others.

"Will do," I promised under my breath.

×××

"That was fun," Ginger declared, collapsing dramatically onto the sofa.

"Yeah," I grunted, trying to seat myself in the plush armchair. Carelessly, I dropped my crutches onto the hardwood flooring, cringing at the clatter.

"I just wish I didn't have lug around this stupid brace everywhere," I said bitterly, propping my elbow on the armrest.

"Yeah, well, you don't have to walk for a while, right?" Ginger said, signing with content.

"Thankfully."

Ginger had always been a social butterfly. She constantly had to be involved in something or going someplace or have a set goal or plan for the day.

"It can't be that heavy. And besides, it's probably a great leg workout."

I stared, in utter disbelief, at Ginger. "Is that all you care about? Working out and flirting?" I snapped. "I can't even walk!"

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