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“Did you know there are one quadrillion ants on planet Earth?”
Oh, awesome. What a normal thing to say.
“I did not.” Liam looks at me with an expression that says “you little weirdo.” But when his eyes meet mine, there’s a glimmer of softness that wasn’t there before. One that suggests he maybe, just maybe, might be reevaluating his assessment of me from “little weirdo” to “charming little weirdo.”
One can hope, at least.
I press on with more fascinating ant chat. He might know all the dolphin facts, but apparently, I’m the ant lady. “Yup. If you put them all on a scale together, they would outweigh humans.”
“That’s a terrifying thought.”
“It is,” I say cheerfully. “Let’s hope they never stage a coup.”
Liam snorts with sudden laughter, which he turns into a cough. But, I’m sure I heard it—I made him laugh!
A smile beams on my face at the thought.
Soon, we arrive at a tiny, hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant with peeling green and red paint and flashing neon signs. It’s the kind of place I adore… and a place I never would’ve pegged for Liam. He looks like a lobster thermidor and caviar kind of guy. The sort of person who’s never been blessed to know the true Atlantan joy that is a Varsity chili cheese dog washed down with a frosted orange shake.
“What?” Liam asks, peering at me.
“Nothing.”
“You don’t like this place, we can go somewhere else.”
“No, I love it. I just…” Ugh, I can’t exactly say that I thought he was a food snob, can I? ”I was worried Mexican food would give me gas.”
Oh, great. Back to the bodily functions. How very attractive and charming, Annie.
As I go predictably red, Liam looks like he’s holding back another laugh.
“I just need to make a quick call,” Liam tells me. “Feel free to check the menu to see if it’ll be, er, agreeable to your disposition.” He’s still got that slightly-pained, trying-not-to-laugh expression.
“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be very… compliant.” Oh, for goodness sakes. What the heck am I on about?
Before I can say some other ridiculously stupid thing, I step into the restaurant. My stomach rejoices at the smells of chipotle peppers, fried corn chips and heaven.
Right before the door shuts behind me, I hear Liam say, “Hey, my girl.”
A jolt hits me. Is that Legs on the phone? Or maybe Ears, this time?
Either way, not my business. What Liam does with his personal life is no concern of mine.
I shove away all thoughts of Liam and the gal-pal he’s talking to, and focus on my surroundings. The restaurant is small, with only a few brightly-colored tables along the walls. I slide into a cozy corner seat, and pull out my phone so that I, too, look like I have some kind of a social life whenever Liam walks in.
My only text is from my mother.
Mother Dearest:Hi, darling. How was work today? Would U like 2 go 2 Farmer’s Market this Saturday morning?
My mother likes to text like its 2002, she owns a Nokia 3310, and she’s going to be charged for going over her character limit.
Also… Farmer’s Market? I smell a rat.
Annie:Work was delightful, thanks. And why, exactly, would you like me to go to the Farmer’s Market?
Mother Dearest:Blaine will be there.
Annie:And Blaine would be…?
