You want to know the perks of having an intimidating aura/face, or whatever? Even in crowds people don’t come too close.

I especially love to use this in the diner during rush hour. I just come in a little before-hand, right after class, grab a seat, watch as the calm turns into a swarm of people, and feel content being in this bubble of slight introvert (I can handle some people but only when I feel like it) protection thanks to my looks, and pity the poor cashiers stuck in the swarm.

It’s been a little over a week since the breakup and honestly it wasn’t that hard on me. Of course I still get mad whenever a stray memory of it pops up; but it easily floats away soon enough.

So here I am, just about to bite into this delicious burger-

“Jordan!” Too happy of a voice, hint of mother hen-

Oh no. Burger down, eyes up; but I already know...ugh.

“...hey..”

“How’d you manage to get a table in this crowd?” Hunter has a tray already, and to my horror he sets it down at my table. “You don’t mind if we share a table right? Oh, are you waiting on someone?”

No, do not stay here. Hiss. Get away. Begone. And why would you ask that after you already sat down…

As much as I would love to lie and say, ‘Yes, about 8 people will be here any second. No room for you, sorry,’ that lie becomes obvious when they don’t show.

“No, go ahead,” I sigh defeatedly. Just please be quiet, I pray in my head. Picking up my food I almost get that first bite when I realize, if he’s here then maybe…

“Marcella’s not here is she?”

My voice must’ve raised a bit, or just sounded odd, because Hunter gives me a look, before turning back to his burger.

“Oh...um, Marcy doesn’t really like the food here,” He mumbles sheepishly like he’s sorry his awful girlfriend isn’t into the food, “ Always watching what she eats, right? She’s so healthy!” he continues, and there it is. Always making excuses for her by saying it’s because she’s SUCH a good person. “ ...But after we all came here, I started to really like the food here,” raising his burger as proof and flashing a small smile.

I nod approvingly. At least he has good taste in hamburgers. If nothing else. Maybe, I can be okay with this guy.

“But this is my first time coming back since that time, and I was lucky enough to find you! I’m not great with crowds.” I find that...a bit hard to believe, at least for mr.smileytalky, and wasn’t he in theatre?, but okay, sure.

‘Yeah,’ I think sarcastically, ‘luuucky me’ -wait- I forgot. I was going to be nice…

“Me, neither,” I reply, conversationally, trying for a third time to eat my dang hamburger.

“Really!?” Hunter shouts with enthusiasm, startling me and earning a good couple glares from some bystanders. I glare back at one woman whose kids were way louder like five minutes ago.

YOU can’t judge, lady.

Turning back to Hunter, he seems to realize the outburst was a bit over-the-top. He sunk back a few inches in his seat, head tilted down a touch, but his eyes are still excited.

I’m once again reminded of a puppy and I’m wary, “...yeeess?” Is this something to be excited about? Did I miss something?

“But you’re so cool, and strong looking,” and if he would’ve stopped it right there, I would’ve liked him, but nope. “Honestly, you’re kind of scary, when I first met you it didn’t seem like you were the type of person Marcy would hang around. You look like you could be in a gang.” And then Hunter goes back to his food.

You... you llittle frick. I was just trying to eat my food in peace. Who says that to practically strangers? My brain’s spouting off this stuff rapidfire but I just take an angry first (finally) bite of my burger and keep my mouth shut. He’ll be gone soon; I tell myself.

For a few minutes, it’s peaceful.

So of course he has to pipe up, lest I forget his existence.

“So, I noticed you and Marcy haven’t been hanging out lately…” Oh, hell not this topic-

The following are the options (with notes) my head supplies me with to answer the unasked question.

“ We had a fight” - this will follow with questions that require answers I don’t feel comfortable giving

“ She must be busy” - this would be Hunter’s response, so no

Feign ignorance- maybe add in a random fact of you being busy because you are and you aren’t going to lie for your ex, but you don’t want to have a fight/ comfort a crying/ whatever he does

“Eh,” I shrug, “I’m busy getting ready for football.” Not a lie. Number 3 won, by the way

This seems like the best choice because it not only kinda answers the question but Hunter looks impressed, so it also distracts him. Perfect.

“Wow, that’s right, you work out!” I smile at myself. Way to go brain, good teamwork. That is, until I feel hands on my arm.

“ Whoa, hey there handsy!” I’m ignored. Hunter continues feeling up my bicep.

Why is he so touchy? I suddenly feel bad for whatever teacher tried to take a child Hunter to a museum.

Hunter thoroughly explores my arm. In fact he takes so long that I go back to eating. Might as well while he’s distracted.

“Did you work out today?” he asks curiously. Well it’s not like I need to impress this dude so-

“Nope,” I answer honestly, taking the last bite of my burger. It’s only with a look over at Hunter that I realize my mistake.

“So you’re not too tired, right?” He asks so happily, like I just told a kid his favourite superhero would be at the mall. The grip on my arm has never loosened and I’ve got red flags and sirens going off in my head. A mantra of (please don’t ask me to be social) on repeat. Then the inevitable question-

“Are you busy, today?”

Yes! Terribly busy! Soooo so busy! Wow! Look at the time! Gotta flee!

“Ye-”

“Oh, but I guess if you aren’t working out for today then that means you probably want to hang out with Marcy, huh? She said she was going to go around campus with some friends…” Hunter trails off and turns away like some sad puppy that was told to stay home. Which I’m guessing is the case.

Huh, well shit. Thanks I guess? Because I totally would’ve gone to the gym and probably run into Marcy and her Bitch squad so I appreciate the warning. However, now I am in the trap of I either hang out with Marcella or Hunter… or lie and go home...but those eyes...

Lesser of two evils. Ughhhh This. Is going. To suck.

“No- nah, um honestly we usually don’t hang out, hardly ever really, so-Nope I’m totally free,” I think even the lady at the next table could call bullshit on me with how fast and fake that came out. But Hunter lights up enough that combined with the weird purple frisbee cone ceiling lamp (it’s a 50s diner it has weird decor) is suddenly a bit overwhelming.

Awww, it’s kind of nice to help a poor lonely puppy...

----------------------------

Not nice! I take it back!

I grunt as I lift a table with a freakin four layer monstrosity of a cake. Turns out Hunter’s whole family needs sugar for sustenance, because guess where I am?

Hunter’s Niece’s 9th Birthday Party. Yaaay...

Turns out, Hunter had a cousin who’d gotten sick and they desperately needed “strong handsome young men” (Hunter’s Grandma’s words not mine) and wouldn’t you know it? They caught- I mean found, me!

So far, his family is full of carbon copies of him. Walk through the door, Grandpa hugs you (the random stranger), the grandma comes up coos at you (honestly I didn’t mind that part), an uncle with some actual fashion sense (honestly Hunter might just be an oddball on that one) starts talking to you about your hair product and gives tips, oh he’s a hair stylist, neat (then what happened to the mop that is Hunter’s hair?), children are in a war zone outside if the sounds of screams are anything to go by and Hunter-

I whip back around to find my captor. Shouldn’t he be the one introducing me? Where...-Ah.

Hunter is trying to fit a pink princess child size party hat on his head.

I can’t help it. Honest, I try to stop it but my stomach’s already tensing and I feel like that uncle-guy in Mary Poppins who tries so hard not to laugh but-

I let out the ugliest laugh, and what’s worse I can’t stop. My sides are clenching, my face is being stretched more than it usually ever is. I don’t laugh much, despite my good sense of humor, a chuckle or smirk maybe, but here I am gasping for breath at this large boy and the messy brown curls springing out and around the tiny cardboard cone, the elastic cord under his nose (because honestly it’s more like the size for a 2 year old) and looking totally confused.

I feel a second of panic because this is rude, right? But then I see him turn to his aunt for help and she laughs just as hard as I am. But Hunter turns back to me and smiles so nicely that I stop laughing. It’s a pretty smile, one I actually trust to be genuine and that’s a big deal coming from a skeptic like me. His big brown eyes don’t hold any malice or resentment in them, his shoulders are relaxed, he truly just looks happy that he made people laugh.

But apparently when I suddenly stop laughing Hunter’s face falls back into confused puppy.

Luckily I didn’t have time to feel too guilty. Aunt Hunter swoops in and explains that yes, the hat was for a 2 year old, but hunter can have one of the adult size pink ones if he wants (he chooses purple but whatever) and then she gathers all the ‘Strong men’ and pushes some one way and a few more another.

Box here, punch bowl there, no not there, over there, streamers higher, etc. That woman is no joke.

Somewhere in the chaos Hunter decided I needed a red party cone to “match” his, and I only didn’t take it off because 1. I was doing something that required both of my arms at the time and 2. I felt like it was kind of payback for the laugh so I let it slide. I like the red anyway

Now I’m relaxing, the party is done being set up, aunt party planner busy talking to the grandparents, children running around a swingset, while I just sit on the outskirts of the yard, under a decent shade tree, drinking some ice cold lemonade that Grandma Hunter gave me as a ’gift for working so hard.’ Sweet lady, although she did pinch my cheeks.

The breeze feels nice and crisp; makes me miss jogging in the mornings. I’d love to pretend I’ll do that soon but y’know, college. I hear rustling next to me and Hunter plomps down beside me.

“Hey,” he greets, with an offering of a cookie, which I of course accept (I don’t miss the resemblance to the Grandma. Always offering sweets)

“Hey,” I mimic, followed by the snap of a chocolate chip cookie between my teeth. Ah, it goes really well with the lemonade. Why was I hesitant to come again?

“Sorry, I roped you into this,” Hunter’s whole body language is quiet for once, subdued. Maybe somehow his family helps drain him of some of that excessive energy he seems to have.

I guess if I had to live with a bunch of the same sarcastic pessimistic me’s I’d be exhausted too.

“It’s fine,” I assure, because yes I didn’t originally want to come but I got free food so no damage done. “ Are YOU good?” I continue, watching Hunter closely.

Hunter seems surprised by the question, to say the least. His eyes widen a bit and his shoulders twitch. When he turns to look at me he finds me staring right at him and pauses a few seconds.

Eventually, Hunter glances away, meaning I win the stare-off. A soft chuckle, and a nervous hand rubbing at his neck. “What do you mean? Ah, do I look tired? My family tends to be a bit,” he pauses and looks ahead guiltily, “much…” he finishes. His head droops a bit.

“Hey,” I say, bumping him with my elbow and side, no sad puppies on my watch, “ that’s how most families are. I know you love them anyway. Don’t worry about it. Just rest with me? In silence preferably.” I’m also tired. When I am tired my niceness filter does not exist. Hunter laughs.

“ Rude are we?” Hunter is clearly amused. Something I’m not used to when I’m like this, I’m used to Marcella getting huffy, so of course I push a bit more.

“ Oh yeah, from now on you get the 100% real Jordan. Real Jordan thinks you talk a lot more than Real/tired Jordan can handle.” The snark falls easily from my tongue as I relax back against the tree.

“ Third person, huh? Okay then real Jordan, how about-” I silence him with my finger.

“No talkie.”

Hunter’s laugh is so sudden it even startles himself, his hand comes up to cover his mouth and some of his round blushing face...cute.

He just is very cute. A big dorkie cute kid of a guy. I can see why Marcella likes him...and why I should probably tell him the truth soon...but not today. I’m too exhausted for that today. Instead I take my time straightening his purple party hat above his brown curls and if I let it snap back to his head a bit so that I can get a petulant glare from Mr. Cute; well, who can blame me?

While I’m enjoying the peace, I notice Party Director Aunt step away from the other adults. Her dress swishes as she stops in the middle of the yard and she’s rolling a large cooler behind her.

And then she opens it.

“WATER BALLOONS!”