It was cold that night.

Heather and Michael were already at the restaurant when I pulled up with Rhoda, driving one-handedly as I tried to turn down the 80's song blaring on the radio. I almost crashed into another car.

"Who's the girl?" Rhoda asked, squinting over her glasses as if they would hide her gaze.

"Oh, that's Heather." She had a pretty name. It made me think of soft things, like dewdrops on newly blooming flowers and those deep oceany eyes of hers. "You might not like her. She's kind of a nerd."

The brunette made a gagging noise.

"I hate her too," I muttered, though mostly my feelings on her were conflicted.

She smirked. "Cool. We ready?"

"Let's do this."

She immediately raised her fist and I bumped mine against it, then we each got out and met at the front of my car to hold hands and walk over. She had straightened her hair and had big gold earrings that matched the belt she wore with her overly ripped jeans.

It definitely wasn't formal, but she was hot.

"Hey guys," Michael said.

"Hey," she replied on behalf of us both.

"I don't think you can smoke inside," Heather said.

Rhoda pulled her cigarette from her lips and blew a cloud of smoke into the air. "I'm not inside."

I took a deep breath, staring out at the parking lot while Rhoda continued smoking. An elderly couple were walking up to the door. The woman gave us a rather disapproving sneer and whispered something to her husband.

I cleared my throat. "Smoke later, Rhoda. I'm freezing my ass off."

"Looks like Heaven here already froze hers off," Rhoda commented, then dropped the cigarette and stomped on it.

"It's Heather," said Heather.

"Right."

"I like Heather's ass," Michael announced obnoxiously.

Rhoda furrowed her brow. "It's literally flatter than yours."

He smirked. "You noticed my ass, Rhoda? It's great, I know."

"Can we stop comparing asses and go inside now?" I snapped.

Heather pushed her way past Michael without a word and walked briskly to the door, her heels making a pleasant clicking noise on the concrete. Rhoda sighed and curved around to follow, giving me time to distance myself from them before sliding up to Michael.

"Remember you're on a date with your girlfriend," I murmured.

He sniffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Tell your girlfriend to stop being mean to my girlfriend."

I smiled. "No."

"Then-"

"And stop staring at my girlfriend's ass," I added.

"She has a nice ass," he shrugged. "So do you. So does Heather. In fact, I would fuck all three of you sexy mother-"

"Shut up," I hissed. I ripped open the door and walked inside, deliberately letting go before he could grab it.

"-fuckers," he finished under his breath as he reopened the door for himself.

I glared at him and then turned, jogging a little to catch up to Rhoda, who was standing in front of a scowling old man in a suit and tie, his face fat and flustered.

"Miss, I apologize, but you need a reservation to be served," he was saying.

"There's an open spot right there!" Rhoda snapped, flinging up her arm in the direction of a comfortable looking booth.

The man frowned. "Once again, I apologize, but I'm afraid that table is already-"

"Excuse me." Michael pushed his way to the front. "I'm sorry, sir. I have a reservation. I'm Michael D'Angelo?"

Rhoda grumbled something under her breath and crossed her arms forcefully.

"Alright... D'Angelo. Yes, I see you. Party of four. Follow me, please."

"Better give me my booth," Rhoda muttered.

I hung back a little while the girls filed behind the old man. "I'm Michael D'Angelo," I whispered in a pompous voice.

"Better Michael D'Angelo than Ben Dover," he said stiffly. I flicked my eyes around to make sure none of the diners had heard.

"How did you know there was going to be four people?" I asked. "Didn't you just decide to invite us today?"

"I made the reservations a while ago," he told me. "I was sort of just counting on someone saying yes."

I widened my eyes. "God."

He smirked. "Aren't you glad you're here?"

"Yeah," I said. "I'm glad I'm getting a free dinner out of you, thanks."

He bit his lip. "I'd originally intended to take Kitty as my date. For obvious reasons that became no longer an option recently, but I didn't want to cancel. So... you're all last-minute backups."

"Don't tell Heather that."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He smiled. "I figured you could take it."

I chewed on my inner cheek and stared ahead of me. Rhoda was being settled into a booth identical to the one she'd spotted, but evidently was still mad. I moved to sit down next to her while Michael went around with Heather.

"What the hell am I supposed to get on this?" Rhoda snapped, smacking the menu with her hand.

"We could all just get burgers," Michael replied hopefully. "How's that sound? Unless someone's, like, vegan or something. In that case, I think there are vegan burgers, they have lots of-"

"I'm not vegan," she interrupted with a scoff, then squinted at Heather. "You kinda look like a vegan," she accused.

"I want seafood," the other girl said with a small smile.

Rhoda closed her menu and slapped it on the table. "That's just what a vegan in disguise would say."

"If I was a vegan, why would I preten-"

"What else are you hiding, Heather?" Rhoda said. "Are you a spy?"

"No," said Heather. "I'm a student. I read books. I paint. And draw. Oh, sometimes I like to crochet."

"I used to draw," Rhoda said. "Mostly girls with big eyes and titties."

Heather shuddered. "I draw trees."

"Trees?"

"And flowers and lakes," she said. "My favorite is sunsets."

"Heather is an amazing artist," said Michael, leaning back and sliding his arm around her shoulder. "You should see some of her work. She could be the next Bob Ross."

Heather smiled at him, her pale eyes lighting up as they met his. "Thanks," she said joyfully, then looked back across the table. "What are your hobbies, Rhoda?"

"Smoking," she answered immediately. "Drinking. Fucking. You don't look like you fuck too many people. You actually look like a real nerd." She nodded at me. "If you know anything about me, you know how I feel about nerds. Let me tell you something about myself, Heather. I'm a psychology major. That means I can read people." She pointed two fingers at her eyes and then Heather's in an 'I see you' gesture. "And you? You are making my nerd-ar go beep, beep, beep."

"Nerd-ar?" Heather questioned.

"Yes," Rhoda said confidently. "I've acquired an acute ability to sniff them out like dogs for drugs."

I cleared my throat. "So..." I said, trying to steer the conversation. "Heather, what's your major?"

She looked happy again as she looked at me. "Graphic design. You?"

"Psych," I said. I flashed a smile at Rhoda. "Less good at people-reading. I was thinking about switching to, like, political science or something."

Heather looked interested. "You should switch early," she advised. "I have a friend that's switched three times already. Do you know what career you want?"

I was about to respond, but as I turned my head I was suddenly met with a pair of boobs an inch from my face.

The waitress stood in front of me, two buttons of her white uniform undone so her cleavage and the top of her breasts spilled out. "So folks, what can I getcha started with this evening?" she said, smacking her gum loudly.

"Do you do porn?" Michael asked.

She blinked and ran a hand through her wispy blonde hair, flipping it to the side. "Um, no."

"You should," he said, his eyes boring into her.

"Would you guys like any appetizers?" she offered. "Or drinks?"

"I'd like an iced tea," Rhoda said.

"Of course, hon," she said, leaning forward to scoop up the menus and thus exposing herself further. Her long blue acrylics tapped against the table. "And you, sir?"

It took me a moment to realize she was talking to me. "What?" I choked out.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked. A long string of gum connected her top and bottom teeth as she chewed.

I coughed. "Uh. Water?"

"And for you?" she asked Michael.

"I'm fine." He looked at Heather. She shook her head, a scowl on her face. He turned back. "Yep, I think we're good. Everyone know what they want?"

My blood froze as I realized she had taken my menu and I still had yet to look at it even once. I gulped and stared at Michael with wide eyes, praying he would notice and help me out. He was too busy staring at the waitress.

"Can I have chicken tenders?" Rhoda said loudly. "And a side of onion rings, I'm fucking starving."

"Of course," the waitress said. She looked at me. I opened my mouth and closed it again awkwardly.

"Do you like steak?" Michael asked. "I'm getting a steak."

I licked my lips. "Okay."

The waitress looked at her notepad. "What kind?"

I blinked.

"Flat iron," said Michael.

"Same," I said, a little too quickly.

"I'd like the crab cakes," Heather said. It was one of the most expensive dishes. Michael took a weary breath.

"Alrighty, I'll be right back with the drinks, folks," the waitress said, giving us all a smile.

For a moment no one spoke. I stared at my hands, trying desperately to think of something to talk about. A baby was crying loudly at a table in the middle of the room. I looked over, watching the mother quickly try to shush it as people sighed in aggravation.

"See, that is why I keep a stash of condoms in my nightstand." Rhoda burst out laughing at her own joke. "Am I ri-"

"Sorry, I'm not trying to be rude, but is that all you talk about?" Heather said suddenly. It was the first time I'd seen her act even the slightest bit assertive. "Giving your body away all the time isn't something to be proud of and it's surely not something to bring up at-"

"Oh, I'm sorry, miss nun. Did I offend you?" Rhoda retaliated, leaning forward aggressively.

Michael sat up a little, pausing as he tried to decide how to intervene. "Heather's right," he said smoothly. "Let's talk about something else."

Rhoda scoffed under her breath and sank back, her scornful gaze turning on him. "Oh, I'm sure you and your tire-slashing nutcase girlie were real into abstinence. Is this..." She stopped, squinting at Heather. "Is this really who you picked for a rebound?"

Heather's forehead crinkled in pain. "What?" She choked on her words, her head whipping to Michael. "What is she talking about?" she demanded hoarsely.

He was staring straight down. "I- I don't-"

I felt frozen, unable to stop the fiery trainwreck I was sure was about to happen. Heather rubbed her lips together, tears now visible in her eyes. "I have to go to the bathroom," she whispered. "Excuse me."

Michael didn't move for a long moment, and I wondered if he had even heard her. Then he slowly slid over and stood, a numb, dead look on his face.

Heather rushed off and his head snapped up, his expression contorting to rage. "Who do you think you are?" he shouted at Rhoda.

"Aaaand here come those anger issues," she antagonized.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he hissed, sliding even closer. His eyes were blazing.

"Just stop," I pleaded, my voice cracking painfully.

Michael turned to me, his eyebrows creased in sympathy. "Sorry," he said softly. He touched my hand tentatively while Rhoda leaned over to look at me with concern.

I was struggling to get it together. And I had already almost cried once today. "I don't want you guys to fight," I mumbled.

"We're not fighting," Rhoda said gently, resting her hand on mine. "We just got a little heated."

It made me think of how two parents might treat their child, if I'd had two parents, of course.

"How about we all just be nice to each other?" Michael suggested in a friendly tone. "Rhoda?"

She fidgeted and gave a moping huff. "Fine."

"Great."

Rhoda sniffed, sitting up straight as she peered past him. "Looks like Miss Melons is back," she alerted us.

I scrubbed my eyes harshly, just to make sure they weren't watery, then turned to see the waitress on her way over, a tray of large glasses and one plate balanced in her hand.

"Alrighty, here are the onion rings, hun." The gum in her mouth smacked as set the plate down. "And all the drinks. The rest of your order will be out shortly."

Rhoda made a grab for the onion rings and dragged the plate toward her. I heard a small cough and looked up. "Pardon me," said Heather, her voice low. She said it polietly, but the hint of disdain was unmistakable.

"Oops, so sorry, hun," the waitress said, backing up so she could get past. Michael got up again, letting her sit on the inside, then awkwardly shuffled around the retreating waitress to take a seat.

"Heather, I'm sorry I called you a nun and a rebound," Rhoda mumbled in a monotone. "I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

Heather blinked. There was a black stain just under one of her eyes. "It's okay, I guess."

Rhoda bit into an onion ring and I reached over to take one myself. I was starving despite the donuts this morning and cafeteria pizza and tater tots. It was the first day I hadn't had lunch with Sarah in what felt like forever. Maybe I never would again.

I wondered, if I ever ended up getting my phone back, if I should text her. I never liked to be the first to apologize after a fight, especially when I felt very strongly that I was right. Which I was. Sarah was stupid and jealous.

I still wanted to text her though.

In quick time the waitress returned with the chicken tenders, two steaks, and crab cakes. My mouth practically watered as she set my plate down in front of me.

Rhoda leaned across the table and sniffed the crab. "Looks good," she commented.

Heather slid her plate closer to herself. "Um, thanks."

I picked up my fork and knife and cut into my already sliced steak. It was good, but I could help thinking I would have rather just eaten a cup of mac n' cheese.

I looked up as the baby from before started wailing again. The mother scooped it up and hurried through the tables toward the bathroom.

"I wish people wouldn't bring infants to restaurants," Heather murmured as she raised a delicate sliver of crab cake to her lips.

"My parents dragged me everywhere they went when I was a kid," said Michael. "They were usually nice places since my dad has money. But I always hated it."

"I went to Burger King a lot," I said lamely.

"You're rich?" Rhoda asked Michael, her eyebrows perking up.

He shrugged. "He is. Not me. And he stopped wanting to give me much after... uh... well, I sort of ditched him to go live on my uncle's farm in Kansas in the middle of the night."

"Woah," said Rhoda. "You're even crazier than I thought."

"Wait... you guys are farmers?" I said. "I thought you were, like, gangsters."

He smirked. "Why, 'cuz I'm Italian?"

"I didn't-"

"Half-Italian, really," he went on. "My mom's side is Irish. Great genes."

"I'm French, Swedish, Polish, and a little bit Russian," Heather said like she was making some presentation or something. I reached for my water clumsily, almost knocking the whole thing over, and took a sip.

Rhoda had nearly finished all the tenders. "What's it like on a farm?" she asked, ripping off another greasy bite.

"Harvest's coming up at the end of the month," he said. "My brother's there pretty much full-time to help. I like going, but my parents are forcing me to stay in school. It's cool there. I like the animals. I like the work. It really lets you clear your head."

"Manual labor isn't for me," Rhoda said.

"It's more than that," he said. "I feel at home there. My uncle, he's sort of the other family reject. And if you've never sat out in a cornfield high as fuck with your sixty-year-old uncle talking about the meaning of the universe, have you even lived?"

"I've never done that," she replied. "I'm alive."

"So, Ben," said Heather, making me tense up internally. "What's your family do?"

I hated her for bringing this up. The mood was already fragile enough; the last thing anyone needed was me talking about my personal life. "Great," I forced out. "My mom's a, uh, florist." Sometimes she got flowers on her grave, anyway.

"That's lovely," she said. I ignored her and shoved two slices of steak into my mouth at once.

The conversation carried on, Rhoda talking about her receptionist mother while she finished the onion rings, Michael telling some story about his uncle. Heather looked just as unhappy as me. By the time everyone else was done, she'd only eaten half of one crab cake.

Rhoda sat back, closing her eyes, her hands folded in her lap. "They got tasty chickens running 'round these parts."

"We have chickens on the farm," Michael told her. "We give them leftover corn."

She twitched her nose. "So, when are we leaving? I'm dying for a smoke."

He looked uncertainly at Heather, whom he'd essentially ignored for the past twenty minutes of talking. "Are you ready? You didn't eat much."

"I'm not hungry," she said faintly.

He seemed sad for a second, then quickly recovered and scanned the tables. Our waitress was making her way up through the tables. He made a signing gesture at her and we all watched her scamper over.

"You folks all set?" the girl asked cheerily, pushing her gum around with her tongue. "Don't want dessert or anything?"

"My dessert's gonna be about five cigarettes," Rhoda said.

Michael grumbled something and pulled out his wallet.

I glanced at the waitress and smiled. "I'll pay," I said boastfully, hoping to sound cool in front of her since I'd looked so stupid before.

Michael paused. "Yeah?"

I stomped his foot under the table.

"Well, I'm not paying, that's for sure." Rhoda was picking at something under her nail.

Michael cleared his throat. "Right. So, I'll just pay since I invited you all here," he said reasonably. "Unless... that's a problem."

Heather smiled. "I think that's very sweet of you."

I sucked in my breath as everyone turned to me. "Uh, I mean, I guess that's fine," I said. "But, like, I could have paid."

Michael narrowed his eyes and placed his card in the little folder for her to take. I felt sort of bad for him. Wasting all that money on a date that wasn't even fun.

Not my fault though.

She stayed by the table when she came back with the slip, as if her presence would pressure him into tipping higher. He gave her the bare minimum and the total still ended up being over 140.

It was sprinkling when we went outside, a sort of light mist that darkened the pavement. I stood next to Rhoda as she struggled to light her cigarette and made a strangled noise of frustration.

"I had a lovely time," Heather said with a forced smile.

Michael slid his arm over her back, his fingers tracing her side. "Good. I'm happy."

No one was happy. Except maybe Rhoda, who'd finally succeeded in lighting her cigarette.

Heather looked nervous now, twisting her fingers together in front of her. "So... now, should you... do you want to..."

"What?"

She looked down and her hair came untucked from one ear and fell across her face. "Um, kiss me?"

He raised himself up, swallowing hard. "Oh. Uh, sure. Of course."