Page 27 of October
“Finley, it’s fine,” she said, smiling at her and shaking her head. “It doesn’t bother me, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” Finley said, appearing unconvinced. “So, burgers?”
“I can’t eat a whole burger. I’m still a little full from all the food I ate.”
“Ketchup isn’t food. It’s a condiment,” Finley teased.
“Ha ha,” she said dryly. “I ate the fries, too.”
“It was more like ketchup soup with a side of French fries.”
“You ate them with me,” Molly pointed out.
“Barely. I couldn’t get them from you the entire third quarter. By the time I got to take a second bite, there were five fries left and all the ketchup was gone.”
“Then, you must be starving. Get the burger. I’m going with an appetizer.”
“And a beer?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t, after all. I’m driving, and I’m not that hungry, so the alcohol will go right through me. I’ll just get a Coke or something.”
“It’ll be weird with me drinking and you not.”
“I’ll have a sip of yours, then,” she suggested.
Only a second later, it dawned on her what she’d just said. She was going to take a drink of Finley’s beer, and she’d just blurted it out like it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe it wasn’t. It was a sip, but they’d never hung out solo before, unless she counted the coffee shop, and she really didn’t because people from the office walked in several times and interrupted them. Now, it was just her and Finley, sitting in Molly’s new favorite bar, and they were talking about sharing a beer.
“I’m getting the burger, and I’m eating all of the fries, so if you want some, get your own,” Finley said with a lifted eyebrow.
Molly chuckled and replied, “That’s fair. I think I’ll get the potato skins with extra sour cream.”
“Youdolove your condiments, don’t you?”
“I guess so. You’re the one to talk, though. I saw you with that hot dog. You piled that thing high.”
“That’s true. With burgers and hot dogs, I like to make sure that they have actual flavor. Most don’t, so I add some. Fries are always hit or miss. Sometimes, they’re seasoned and just salty enough. Other times, they have nothing, so they’re awful. Garlic fries are perfect just the way they are and don’t need ketchup soup, Molls.”
“Then, why did you let me dictate your French fries today?”
“They were technically yours. You bought them,” Finley replied.
“For you,” Molly said. “Well, forus, I guess,” she added and felt the blush creep up her cheeks when Finley smiled at her.
“Next time, I’ll remember that and make sure to tell you to put the soup on the side.”
Molly laughed just as their waitress brought their waters and placed them in front of them.
“What can I get you?” she asked.
“You go first,” Finley said, motioning to Molly.
“Oh, just a Coke and the potato skins with extra sour cream.” She smiled at Finley. “On the side, please.”
“You want all the sour cream on the side or just the extra?”
“All of it,” Molly replied, “In case you want to steal one and don’t want sour creamsoup,” she teased Finley, who just laughed silently.
“Can I get the local autumn beer you have and a burger and fries?”
