SSS 2 - Enter the diner

You look at Taytum, who makes a face.

“We should go in,” she says, reading your mind. You nod and Bian looks relieved. It’s a little spooky out here. Taytum chugs the rest of her beer and tosses the empty on the floor.

The problem with parking away from the lights is that you have farther to go through the rain. At least it isn’t freezing cold. You brought a lot of things with you, but an umbrella is not one of them. That’s quite an oversight. Trying to cover your head, you follow the others, splashing through puddles in the parking lot to reach the doors. Bian gets there first and holds it open for you.

Dripping, you and Taytum enter the diner.

Water shines on the black and white floor. Fluorescent lights gleam on red vinyl seat cushions and Formica tabletops the color of eggshells.

The door closes behind you and the roar of the storm vanishes, replaced by the drumming of rain on the big windows. An old jukebox stands against the wall, lit up brightly, but not playing anything.

Only two customers are inside the diner: two girls around your age sharing a booth at the far end of the restaurant.

“Yikes,” Bian says, shaking water off.

“Fuck me,” Taytum mutters, twisting the top of another little vodka and drinking it down. She stops at half and offers it to you. You shake your head and she finishes it.

There’s the sound of a bump, then a rattle from the direction of the kitchen. The girls in the booth don’t seem to notice. Bian frowns at them.

“Is that them?” she murmurs to you.

“I don’t know,” you reply nervously.

“Bet they have milkshakes here,” Taytum says. “I wonder if they do Oreo. No. Not a milkshake. A float. A root beer float. Fuck.” She slaps her fist into her open palm. “I’d only I’d gotten some shots of Captain Morgan. Oh, that would be so good. Fuck.”

“Focus please,” you tell her irritably.

As you say it, a girl emerges from the kitchen, tying on an apron.

She is slim and maybe a little older than you and your friends. Her dark hair boasts some intense but playful blue highlights. She brushes off her apron and smiles at you.

Your heart skips a beat. She’s pretty. Not a supermodel or anything, just pretty.

Her dark eyes move slightly, indicating the diner.

“I think you can sit wherever,” she says, a hint of amusement in her gaze.

You blush. “Right.”

Taytum throws a look at the girls in the booth, then walks to a nearby one and drops in, slouching. Bian slides in beside her. You twitch, but control yourself and sit across from them, watching Bian sit close to Taytum, who absently puts her arm around the petite girl. Taytum yawns and looks at her phone.

The waitress approaches before you can say anything. She has her notepad in her hand.

“What can I get you?” she asks.

Taytum looks up at her mildly.

“Menus?” she says with a grin.

The waitress smiles wider. “Right. That would help.” She grabs them from the counter and brings them over.

“Can you do a root beer float?” Taytum asks her.

“I can try,” the waitress replies.

“Coffee,” Bian says. “And blueberry pie.”

The waitress turns her gaze on you. You scowl and set your menu down. Is more coffee a good idea? It’s getting late. On the other hand, you’ll need to stay sharp.

“Coffee,” you say. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” the waitress’s smile is like a warm sunrise. She scoops up the menus and walks away, skirt swishing. You watch her go.

“We need a slice of pie, Mamacita!” she calls out cheerfully.

There’s a shouted reply in Spanish from the kitchen.

“Really, Lyna?” Taytum asks. “Oh, salty,” she says when she sees the look that you give her. She leans over to peek past you at the girls in the far booth.

“Think that’s them?” she asks. Bian turns to look.

You just shake your head. You have no idea.

Approach the girls in the other booth?

Or wait for them to approach you?