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There’s no way in hell Sean would try to bring that stuff up while she’s on her lunch break.
He wouldn’t want to distract her from her afternoon classes.
I watch him rub his hands over his face. I expect he’ll spend the afternoon passed out on the couch once Amanda and Dante head back to class. At least he’s catching up on his missed sleep.
I’m too wired to do the same. The excitement I’m feeling over the clear view I have of the future is way too hard to push down. I finally understand why I couldn’t find an occupation that fit me. That clarity is making everything feel brighter and shinier.
I might have trouble sleeping for a while. I’m riding this feeling so damn high.
No one’s talking about anything, so I decide to fill the silence as I bring the plates over to the table.
I set Amanda’s down first, as always, and Sean’s after hers.
“Did you guys know Scottish people call grilled cheese something else?” I ask as I head back to the counter for Dante’s plate and my own.
It takes a second for someone to answer, and typically it’s Dante.
“That can’t be right,” he scoffs. “What do they call it then?”
I put his plate down in front of him and I set mine down across the table from Amanda.
“Take a guess,” I invite him, not willing to let the conversation trail off so quickly.
He shakes his head at me. Yeah, he’s not going to play. That’s okay, because Amanda is.
“Cheese on toast?” she guesses, shrugging, as she parts the two halves of her sandwich.
“I think that might be what they call it in England,” I tell her, hoping I’m remembering it right.
Sean lets out another crazy loud yawn. This time everyone jumps a little.
“I think someone missed his morning pitcher of water,” I murmur.
He nods slowly. “Yeah. It’s too warm.”
“I’m assuming that means you want water?” I ask.
“Sounds good,” he says.
I get water and soda out of the fridge, assuming everyone’s drinking their usual picks since no one said otherwise. Once we’re all sitting down, and Sean has downed half a bottle of water, I get back to the grilled cheese conversation.
“Last chance to guess?” I ask, looking around.
“I don’t know,” Dante says, which doesn’t surprise me.
“A cheese melt?” Sean tries.
I shake my head. “Does everyone give up?”
“I already gave up,” Dante mumbles.
Amanda frowns. “Well, then, what do they call it?”
“Roasted cheese,” I answer, shrugging.
“Roasted cheese?” Dante echoes. “Weird.”
“I know, right?” I shrug as I pick up one half of my sandwich.
