The diner is only a few minutes outside of campus and the kind of hole-in-the-wall place that caters to locals and hungover college students. We're neither, so Rhett and I are a little out of place with the local fellows having their morning coffee and bitching about the weather, the commuters in a hurry and being picky about the exact right amount of cream in their coffee, and the people who look like they're still in the throes of sleep.
A perky waitress leads us to a leather booth in the back, and the seats make that awful fart-like noise when Rhett and I sit down. I try not to blush and fail. He just chuckles and hands me a giant menu that's sticky and smells like maple syrup. The fake stuff.
The waitress comes back and Rhett and I both order coffee. His black, mine with enough cream and sugar to render it unrecognizable. I expect him to say something about it, but he doesn't.
Silence descends on us as we peruse the menus. I don't want to get anything that he suggested, but the caramel French toast is really calling to me. Along with hash browns and bacon. Honestly, I am hungry enough to eat this damn menu if someone doesn't put something edible in front of me in the next few minutes.
Fortunately, the waitress is prompt, and Rhett lets me order first. I get extra bacon because I can't help it. I don't even worry about what Rhett might think of me consuming all this food. And then HE orders and my eyes pop.
Pancakes and a western omelet and hash browns and bacon and sausage and a biscuit. Oh, and gravy on the biscuit.
I nearly choke on air as the waitress takes our menus back and rushes off to the kitchen to put in our order. I hope they have enough food back there.
"What can I say, I like breakfast." Rhett says, shrugging. "I eat the most in the morning and then not as much later. It works for me." He cracks some of his knuckles, and I want to tell him that it's definitely working for him because whatever he's done to build that bod is excellent.
He sips his coffee and doesn't seem inclined to make any kind of conversation, which is odd. I don't just want to sit here with this hulking guy and not talk.
"So. How are you liking the cheer life?" I cringe at the sound of my voice, but it's better than nothing.
"What's not to like? Bust my ass and get to harass you every day." I roll my eyes and he chuckles. Where the hell is our food? It needs to be here like ten minutes ago.
"In all seriousness, I really do like it. I wouldn't be hauling myself out of bed at five for something I didn't enjoy." Interesting.
"So you're not getting shit from anyone for being a male cheerleader?" He shrugs one shoulder.
"Even if I did, I wouldn't care. The opinions of people who put others down for doing something they love aren't opinions I give a shit about." Oh, well. I like that.
"That's probably wise," I say, looking into my empty coffee cup. If I have more, I'm going to be a jittery mess for a while, but I need something to do other than stare at Rhett. When I look at him, I keep listing all the things about his face that I like and realizing that it's the kind of face that I would like on my face. Or on other parts of my body. I can feel my face getting red, and fortunately, our food arrives and distracts both of us.
"Are you seriously going to finish all that?" I ask as the waitress sets out enough food for a family of seven in front of Rhett.
He grabs the ketchup and squirts it all over his hash browns.
"Yup."
* * *
Less than an hour later, Rhett is leaning back in the booth and looking quite pleased with himself.
"We should have made a bet, but I was too hungry to think of it." He sighs and I sip my water. I finished my plates too, but still. I have never seen anyone other than a body builder or someone training for a competitive eating competition put that much away at one time. His bill is going to be huge. We didn't talk about how we were going to pay, and I'm a little curious to see if he's going to pay for both of us. I almost don't want him to because then this would feel more like some sort of weird breakfast date and not just two people eating food at the same place at the same time with nothing between them. Not that there is anything between me and Rhett. Besides him teasing me and my annoyance.
"You have anywhere to be, or do you want to just sit here for a minute?" he asks.
I want to lie and tell him I have class soon, but my mouth doesn't cooperate. Again.
"No, I've got some time."
"Good," he says, winking. "That means we can talk now that you've eaten." I give him a withering look.