Lyla was contrite. “You’re right. I get so worked up at times.”
“Stuart is a saint.”
“I’m not so sure about him yet. It’s still early days and it’s still all about sex.”
Jessica wished she could be so cavalier about sex. But she believed in giving it up only to someone she truly loved, which was her Big Hang Up Number Two. Only Lyla knew she was still a virgin. And of course, her Mom, who thought that all unmarried daughters should be eternal virgins.
“Oh look, there they are.” Lyla gave a little wave.
Jessica looked over to the direction of the door. She recognized Stuart, of course, who was a short, bespectacled youth who looked like he was always squinting into the near distance. But he was nice enough to Lyla and he all was right in Jessica’s book. Stuart was accompanied by a taller chestnut-haired youth whose eyes were darting all around.
Jessica felt faint. He’s probably looking for me.
“Let me get him,” Lyla said. She stood up and waved cheerily, attracting the attention of the diners around them. “Hey, Stuart, over here!”
Jessica winced and felt like sinking under the table. That was rather loud, she thought. But then Lyla was always a little boisterous. They were almost exact opposites, which was why they got along like bread and butter. Everyone stared at them, some a little crossly.
Stuart’s cousin, Jeff, swiveled his head. His gaze swept across the diners and landed on her face. Jessica couldn’t be certain but she thought she saw dismay come over his rather pleasant features. Stuart nudged him and gestured towards their table. They made their way to it; Jeff somewhat reluctantly. Or was she reading everything wrong?
Jessica wasn’t sure about anything. Her self-confidence was usually at ground zero and worrying about stuff only made her depressed, which in turn made her eat a whole lot more for comfort.
The guys arrived.
“You made it,” Lyla said happily. She got up and hugged Stuart. Jessica wished she could have that easy-going camaraderie with someone who didn’t possess estrogen.
Stuart said, “Hi, Jess.” He was always polite and friendly with her. “This is my cousin, Jeff.”
Jessica got up awkwardly, almost tipping over her water glass. She held out her hand.
“Hi.”
Jeff was still staring at her.
“Hi,” he said, shaking her hand.
Why is he staring at my double chin? Jessica thought with dread. Oh wait. His eyes had dipped down to her breasts and her very pronounced cleavage. The ample fat padding her waist. Her thighs. Damn those thighs. She now wished she had worn something longer. But long skirts made her look short and squat.
“Shall we?” Stuart said, waving Jeff to the seat beside Jessica’s.
They all sat down with scrapes of their chairs, causing the diners to once again give them murderous glares.
“Shall we order?” Lyla said.
The waiter brought four menus.
“I’ll let you look at our appetizers and entrees first,” he said. “Then I’ll be right with you. Today’s specials are on the menu card inside. I recommend the three cheese baked pasta. It’s particularly good with the house wine.”
He left with a bounce. He was obviously a college kid moonlighting for his tuition. Jessica wished she could be that confident and carefree.
“Boy oh boy, these look good,” Lyla said. Her fingers danced over the menu. “I’ll have the cauliflower and broccoli soup, followed by . . . hmmmm, the pumpkin risotto, I think. What do you think, loverboy?”
She leaned over to give Stuart a peck on the cheek.
“Anything you want, sugar plum,” he said, his glasses slipping off his nose.
“What will you have?” Jeff said to Jessica. His eyes were watchful and he appeared rather ill at ease.
She was just as nervous. I’m not big on looks and I’m not big on personality either. Oh wait, scratch that.
“Mmmmm, I think I’ll have the three cheese baked pasta,” she said. “And the cream of wild mushroom soup.”
He hesitated, and then plowed on. “You sure you want to order that?”
Stuart and Lyla were laughing over something, and so they weren’t listening.
“I’m sorry?” Jessica said.
Jeff cleared his throat. “I said are you sure you want to order that?”
She thought she knew where he was heading.
“Um, why not?” she said. A flush came to her cheeks.
“Creamed soups have far more calories than consommés, and three cheese baked pasta has to contain a whole of refined carbs. That can’t be good.”
“Oh.”
“Yes.” He seemed earnest. “You should be eating clear soups and salads. Carrying all that weight around can’t be good for you. If you’re this heavy at nineteen, think of what you’ll be at thirty-two.”