Save You A Seat | ✓

HER FRIES

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STOLEN:

HER FRIES
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"OH MY GOD YOU GUYS are gonna bang," Camille squealed. "You look hot."

"Shut up, Camille," Brooke mumbled. She was wearing a simple black dress that ended at her knees, the soft fabric brushing against her skin.

"I can't believe you landed Eastwood! He's ranked number two on my Totally-Hot-Basketball-Team-Hotties list," Camille's eyes lit up with admiration.

Brooke wasn't bothered by Camille's fangirl tendencies – impressed, more like. She knew they were harmless, and it was humorous to watch her friend get so worked up about boys.

"Who's number one?" Brooke decided to entertain Camille.

"Nick Reeve, the star player, duh," Camille said, plopping down on the couch dreamily, "He's so gorgeous."

"Uh huh," Brooke examined her reflection. She didn't want to admit it, but she was nervous. The past few dates she'd been on had been awkward messes, and she really hoped it wouldn't be like that with Flynn.

30 minutes later, Brooke was at the restaurant's front door. She wrung her wrists nervously, giving herself ten seconds to breathe before stalking in.

Flynn was already there, dressed in a casual T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. His eyes lit up when he saw her and waved her over.

"You look hot," he said. Brooke had nearly forgotten how straightforward he was.

"Shut up," she mumbled, just as she had said to Camille. Except, unlike Camille, his words sent pink flares up on her cheeks.

"As polite as ever," he chuckled, eyes sparkling as he regarded her.

"Whatever, Eastwood. I want a taco," she said bluntly, taking a seat. For some reason, she didn't feel compelled to be as polite as she usually would have been on a date. She felt at ease around him, even though her heartbeat always seemed to accelerate.

"Getting right to it, are we?" he chuckled. "Fries?"

"Is that even a question? Yes, of course. Oh, and a milkshake," she added.

"Okay. Chicken wings?"

"Chicken wings," she confirmed.

Flynn grinned and placed the order.

When the food arrived, they dug in, stuffing their faces like children.

"So, Brooke," he drawled out her name. "What's your problem?"

Brooke was taken back. She narrowed her eyes, "What's your problem?"

"What I mean is," he started, stealing one of her fries, "how can someone be so gorgeous and yet so annoying at the same time?"

"I'm the annoying one?" Brooke retorted, deciding to dismiss his twisted compliment on her looks. "You're the one who stole my seat! And you always say stupid things and you're always so unpredictable and so rude and so frustrating and so...so..."

Flynn raised his eyebrows expectantly, "So handsome?"

"Yes-Wait no!" Brooke groaned. "Oh, fuck off."

"I think my new favorite hobby is pissing you off," he grinned.

Brooke scowled and trained her burning gaze on her half-eaten taco.

Flynn laughed, stealing another one of her fries. "B, do you really hate me?"

Brooke sighed and put her fries out of reach. "No, Flynn, I don't hate you. I just think about your death a lot."

His long arms reached the fries anyways as he stole another. "Sounds about right. Anyways, so it wouldn't totally piss you off if we made a bet, right?"

"What kind of bet?" she asked, intrigued.

"If I can throw this fry and make it land in that kid's apple juice, you'll go out on another date with me," he grinned.

Brooke's cheeks flushed red. Smooth asshole.

"Deal?" he questioned.

A thousand clever ways to reject him ran through her head, but she would be lying to herself if she said she didn't want another date. Brooke took a deep breath and met his gaze, "Deal."

Flynn winked at her and readied himself. The minute the kid behind her turned away, he tossed the fry. Brooke watched it fly past her and land right into the kid's drink, making a tiny splash. She cheered on the inside.

"Score!" Flynn patted himself on the back. "Basketball team captain for a reason." He looked at her smugly, "You have been blessed with another date with Flynn Eastwood. You may choose the next location."

Brooke rolled her eyes, "More like cursed." She took a sip out of her milkshake, "I don't know, I'm kind of broke. Let's just hang out somewhere. Like the library."

Flynn wrinkled his nose, "The library? You're such a nerd."

"Yeah whatever, Eastwood. Besides, exams are coming up, and I don't plan on failing my first year of college," Brooke replied, stating the truth. She wasn't exactly doing well in her psychology class.

"Fine," Flynn pouted. Then, as if to suck up to her, he cooed, "I hate that you're always right."

Brooke grinned, "Well, between the two of us, there's only room for one idiot, right?"