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“ S top staring,” I mumble as I look over the menu. Don’t know why. I’m going to get the same thing I always do. Guess I just want something to keep me busy and avoid what my friend is doing—staring at strangers.

“Girl, you took the wrong seat. We are talking about grade A fine meat at my six o’clock.” Summer isn’t even trying to be subtle about it anymore as she stares away. Poor chap. Once she has someone in her sights, she’s like a bull, running after them till something else catches her eye.

“That’s your twelve o’clock. Six is behind you.” I keep looking at the menu.

“Fine, your six, my twelve. The point is, you need to take a spin in that chair and look at what I’m seeing.”

“Again, stop staring. And I’d rather find something to eat.”

I can see her stopping her spying game to look back at me from over the menu. “Oh please, don’t act like you aren’t getting the lobster and avocado eggs Benedict with extra bacon and a side of potatoes instead of the toast.”

She’s right. Dropping the menu to the table, I stop pretending that I’m going to be anything but predictable with my morning food. Instead, I reach out and grab the insanely large mug in front of me and pull it close while trying not to let a single drop of the liquid inside spill over .

“I can’t believe you ordered that.”

“Yes, you can. You know me so well, after all.” I toss her a grin before I lean down and sip out the warm yumminess inside the cup.

“Right, and hot chocolate is a normal thing to get. Especially in December when it’s cold out. But did you have to order the hot chocolate extraordinaire? They put an entire bottle of sprinkles on that, not to mention a can of whipped cream.”

“Jealous?” I eye her as I bring the drink even closer. Looks like my amazing concoction is the only thing that’s pulled her away from looking at God knows who, though I wish it hadn’t. I’m not the sharing type. More the type to bite fingers off if they get too close, friend or no friend.

“Maybe. But I know better than to ask for a sip. I’ll just have to come back with the kids and get one for us to split.”

“You could order one yourself, you know. It’s not like anyone here would think less of you.”

She scoffs. “You know I don’t care what they think. I just don’t want the extra calories.”

I raise an eyebrow at her contradiction. “You just said you don’t care what others think and that you’re watching your weight in one breath.”

“I don’t count calories for them.”

“Then for who? ’Cause you know I don’t give a shit about your fat ass,” I say with a cheeky grin that has her rolling her eyes as she tries to hide her smile behind her coffee mug as she takes a sip.

“Besides, everyone knows that drinking hot chocolate is the best way to stay warm. Not only does it taste good, but it unfreezes your insides and gives you the calories you need to move outside. By the time you’re home, all those calories have burned off just to keep you warm. ”

“That’s not a fact,” she deadpans.

I just nod. “Yes—” I take a large sip to emphasize my point. “—it is. Look it up.”

Another eye roll. Thankfully, she doesn’t call me out on my bullshit anymore and lets me drink my beverage that should be reserved for fairies and seven-year-olds in peace.

Not like this isn’t the first time I’ve ordered one of these.

This diner has them on the permanent menu rather than just a seasonal favorite.

Well, the sprinkles change to match whatever holiday season we’re in, but that’s about it.

Hot chocolate is one of only a few vices I have.

I won’t be parted from it. Kind of like some people and their coffee. But I’m worse. Way worse.

“What can I get ya?” the oversized waitress, Betty, asks while chomping on her gum.

She might be a bigger type, but she’s been here for years and can move faster than any of the other waitresses they have.

She’s quick with the food, rude to the customers, and grunts more than talks.

She’s one of my favorite people, and she doesn’t even know it.

“The usual,” I say with a smile. She just looks at me without a single ounce of emotion.

Summer and I have been coming here once a week for almost three years.

We’re more routine than cows coming in when they hear that dinner bell.

But I guess we don’t make an impression as much as Betty has made on us.

“She’ll have the number three with a side of potatoes, and I’ll take the number eleven, but hold the tomatoes.” Summer grabs our menus and hands them over to Betty. Girl doesn’t even ask if that’s it before she’s off to another table .

“One of these days, you’re going to have to try a tomato.

” I push my cup away from the edge of the table.

Don’t want to be tempted to drink it all before my food arrives.

I like to enjoy it. I also don’t want to drop another twelve dollars on a second one.

Especially when I can just make myself one for free at home.

Sure, I could have done that before coming here, but I don’t have the sprinkles. Always forget to buy those.

“Tried it, never liked it.”

“But you like ketchup.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s literally the same thing.”

“Once again, I need to get you a book on facts. Ketchup is made from tomatoes and mixed with, like, a dozen other things. One being sugar, which makes everything better. It is not just a tomato in a bottle.”

I shrug. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Don’t really care.

I talk a big game; I know that. It’s half of my appeal.

Or so I tell myself. If someone really wants facts, they can look it up on the internet.

I don’t have time for that. My life is simple, but it’s packed with orders and training.

If I’m not doing one, I’m doing the other.

“Mack get back with you on the dates yet?”

I shake my head at Summer. “No. You hear anything?”

She shrugs, and her shoulder-length brown hair falls in front a bit as she does it. “Only that he heard it’ll happen after the new year. Something about the owners wanting time off for holidays.”

I snort at that. “Right. The holidays. More like they need to find some new investors or just new talent. I heard the last group was tired of seeing the same things over and over again. They want something new.”

“New? Last time the word new was used, they added Jell-O.” She tosses her hair back with an eye roll.

I hate that she cut it. She loved it long, but it’s not right for our business.

I should cut mine like hers, but I still haven’t convinced myself to do it.

Maybe because it’s the only thing I have that isn’t busted up at times when I look in the mirror.

She continues to ramble as she drinks from her mug. “And it’s fake advertisement with the whole ‘everyone likes Jell-O’ bit. That shit is nasty. My kids don’t even like it, and you know they usually eat anything.”

“To be fair, you didn’t bring home a 9x9 pan of it. You brought home twenty gallons.”

She nods reluctantly. “Little ones were only eating anything orange. Figured it was worth a shot. But hey, at least I got them over that pretty quick and back to eating regular food.”

“Regular food. Right. Mac and cheese and blueberries. Pretty sure the food groups contain more than those two.”

I adjust in my seat and bring my hands around my cup.

It’s still warm. This place keeps the heater going every second of every day, but when the door opens, the wind can be a bitch in its way of saying hello.

I swear it finds me every time and brings a chill to my bones.

No clue why I thought Michigan would be a great place to set up shop.

Sure, I grew up here, but that doesn’t mean I have to stay.

Got enough money to move. But I don’t. You get used to the cold.

You still bitch about it, but it’s livable.

In the summer, it’s even nice around here.

Sure, summer is shorter here than anywhere down south, but you get what you pay for.

And I pay the heating bill for damn sure.

“You try raising kids as a single mom. See how far you get. I’m just happy they’re eating. Trust me, when it’s your turn, you’ll be begging them to eat anything other than dirt.”

“No, no.” I shake my head, even wave my hands at the devil’s spell she’s casting, hoping it won’t stick if I move too much.

“Don’t put that bad juju on me. Take it back, witch.

I won’t be tricked into some kind of sick twist of the universe and end up knocked up within a year.

You see that shit all the time when someone talks about it.

I’ve got plans. Big plans. Take it back. ”

“Fine, I take it back,” she huffs, but at least she smiles as she does it.

If I was the type to believe she was a proper witch, from her, that would be as good as one got at a reversal spell.

She’s been known to say shit and then bam , it happens.

She says it’s just coincidence, but I’ve known her for most of her life.

She’s a witch but doesn’t know it. Her magic is in the words she says.

They come true. Mark my words, she’ll hex me with something else by the time this breakfast is done.

She does it every week. Usually it’s about me selling something, or getting screwed over.

She calls it before I even have a chance to gauge what’s in play.

She’s spooky. And life wouldn’t be the same without her.

“But only because I know those plans include bringing me out of the slums with you when you make it big and go legit.” She moves back as Betty sets her plate down, then mine, before grunting and leaving.

“I am legit.” I pick up my fork and dig in. I never skip a meal. I can’t. But also because I don’t want to. And I especially love breakfast. Something about it just makes it better than any other meal of the day. It’s a fact. Look it up.