Page 64 of Intermission

“I’m out.” Gretchen slings her purse over her shoulder, and the softness of a moment ago is swept away. “Be gone when I come back, ’kay?” She bats her eyes.

I slam my textbook shut, grumbling, “As if I’d actuallywantto be here with you and your creepy friends.” But she’s already sashaying out of the room.

After shoving the books into my bag, I grab my car keys and a light jacket. On my way out the door, I call Jenna and suggest a combination study session/dinner trip to The Smoked Salt Grille in Sommerton.

Hey, if I have to study elsewhere, I might as well see my favorite waiter, right?

“I dare you to order the barbequed ribs,” Jenna teases me after Noah takes our drink order.

“Are you kidding me? What a mess!”

“Adeliciousmess. Come on, Faith! We could split an order.”

“No way.” I arch an eyebrow at her. “You wouldn’t eat ribs ifColewas our waiter.”

“True. A barbeque sauce goatee is not exactly attractive.” Jenna plays with the end of her long blonde ponytail as she gazes at the menu. “So what are you going to get?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, maybe if you studied the menu a little bit more than you studied the waiter, you’d be ready when he comes back.” Jenna sighs so melodramatically a stranger might mistakeherfor the wannabeBroadway star instead of me. “I should have known you were just using me to see Noah.”

“They have big booths here.” I tap my pencil against herFahrenheit 451study guide. “We can spread our stuff out and study while we eat.” Still, I grin. Caught. “Getting to see Noah is a bonus, of course.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

I didn’t notice Noah’s approach from behind, but from the smirk on Jenna’s face, she saw him coming. I try to kick her under the table.

“Missed.” She grins. “Best keep those sports skills on the stage, Ace.”

Noah places a large Mountain Dew in front of Jenna, but before setting my iced tea down, he reaches for the salt and sprinkles a light coating on my beverage napkin.

“You remembered!”

“At The Smoked Salt Grille, we aim to please. Jenna?” Noah offers to salt her napkin as well.

“No thanks. Salt is meant to season food, not paper products.”

This argument is as old as our friendship. My brother taught me the trick when I was five. “It helps the napkin not stick to the bottom of the glass.”

“I know,” Jenna concedes—a rare thing, indeed, “but it looks dumb, and I’ve got my rep to think about. I’ll let my napkin stay sticky and save the salt for my French fries, thank you very much.”

Noah tosses me a wink. “Are you ladies ready to order?”

“Yep.” Jenna nods. “Faith wants the baby back ribs.”

“No, I don’t.” I kick Jenna under the table. This time, I don’t miss.

“Ow! Okay, okay. Faith is still deciding, but I want the baby back ribs. And a box for the leftovers.” She sticks her tongue out at me.

By the time Noah has gone through Jenna’s choices of side dishes, I’ve picked a sandwich off the menu.

“All right, ladies, I should be out with your food in a few minutes.”

Jenna watches over my shoulder as Noah walks away. “He’s pretty cute.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Good shoulders. Nice butt.”