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“You really like this kind of food, don’t you?”
“I love it,” she admitted, reaching for another shell. “I kind of discovered it by accident and have tried a few places that were awfully sketchy… but this place? It’s never disappointed me, and when you tell them spicy? It’s seriously spicy and can make your scalp sweat.”
John shot up out of his seat, raising his hand.
“Tommy?” he began loudly and glanced at her. “His name was Tommy, right?”
“Yes – why?”
The man walked over quickly, and she knew he was afraid something was wrong with the oysters, because not a lot of people ordered them out of fear or squeamishness.
“Can I get my shrimp boil extra spicy?”
“Sure,” Tommy smiled, nodding. “Do you want another beer or a glass of water too?”
“Please – and napkins. Do you want more lemon or another beer, Emily?”
She was quite flattered that he actually offered or was looking out for her. It was so nice to have someone do something like that without expecting her to work magic on their taxes – or her parents wanting to set her up with a family friend just so their ‘poor daughter’ had a date.
“You won’t think I’m some lush or weird?”
“Nope,” John smiled, giving her an odd look. “Do you think I am, if I want to enjoy this?”
“Tommy,” Emily smiled, not looking away from John. “Make both of them spicy and two more beers please.”
John’s easy smile grew even wider as he sat back down happily.
“Let’s dig in…”
For the next hour, they literally devoured their massive meal, cutting up and laughing repeatedly the entire time. John’s shirt was quite ruined, because one of his shrimp shot some of the oily spice mixture directly onto his chest, making him look sheepish in embarrassment with a trail of ruddy dots.
“You broke the ice,” she teased, laughing, and speared one of her potatoes, holding it up and taking a bite off her fork before dunking the remainder in the shrimp boil medium at the bottom of the bag on her tray.
“Well, I for one, hope that you don’t ruin your dress…”
“I have a stain stick in my car when we get back to the church.”
“I’ll just consider it a souvenir,” he grinned and there was a pepper stuck in his teeth making her chuckle, before feeling her own teeth with her tongue for spices. Her lip was slightly numb because of the heat of the meal, but it was so nice to be able to savor the meal without having to dial it back.
She liked that he was just so down-to-earth and normal. He wasn’t bothered in the slightest that she was enjoying herself – and in fact looked impressed that she wasn’t some scrawny waif that wouldn’t eat or was nervous wondering what he would think about her.
Emily was, who she was… and didn’t put up a front for anyone.
Lies or disillusionment never helped anything. No, she was herself down to her toes, which is what was irritating to a lot of people.
“Do you have floss in your car, too?”
“Who doesn’t?” she asked absently, biting into a corn cob and chewing. “I have the little picks and some rope floss…”
“Oh mercy,” John uttered, shaking his head, and not looking at her.
“What? So, I’m slightly neurotic about my teeth. I mean, if I wore braces for years and bothered with a retainer? I sure don’t want to have problems with cavities or bad breath later, plus it’s helpful to get popcorn shells and…”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“I don’t want you laughing at me.”
“I’m not laughing,” John admitted. “I’m just amazed.”
