Page 40 of Quiet Rage

“Yes,” Kellen answers her.

“Awesome! Please follow me,” she chirps before grabbing two menus. Spinning around, she walks us through the restaurant and takes us to a booth.

“Your server will be right with you. Enjoy!” The server walks away, her high ponytail swaying with each step. She probably thinks we’re a couple. What would she do if she knew I was here against my will?

I sit down on the bench, and Kellen takes the seat across from me, his big body filling almost the entire side of his booth.

“Why am I here?” I ask.

“To eat dinner,” he answers.

I give him a pointed look, not satisfied with his answer, and try again. “Why am Ireallyhere?”

Kellen puts his elbows on the table and leans forward. “You are here because I want you to be here.”

“But why do you want that?”

Kellen shrugs. “I just do.”

“You always get what you want?” I don’t even know why I’m asking. I already know he does.

The corner of his mouth pulls up into a smirk. “Usually, yes,” he confirms.

Must be nice.

A waitress stops at our table, ending our conversation.

“Hi guys! I’m Wendy; I’ll be your server today. Can I get you started with anything to drink?” She looks down at me with a wide smile, notepad in hand.

“Water, please.” I order the only thing I can afford.

She scribbles it down on her pad before looking over at Kellen.

“We’ll have two cheeseburgers with fries and two vanilla milkshakes,” he tells her, before handing her his menu. She grabs the second menu off the table.

“You got it,” Wendy confirms before taking off.

“What if I’m a vegetarian?” I snap, irked by him ordering for me.

“Then I would say you are missing out. The burgers here are amazing.” His eyebrows raise slightly. “Are you a vegetarian?”

“No,” I admit. “But that’s not the point.”

“What is the point, then?”

“It’s that you shouldn't order for other people. I don’t even have money to pay for this,” I explain, my voice laced with irritation.

“Don’t worry about it.” He dismisses my concerns. “I’ll pay for your food.”

I hate the idea of him paying for me. It’s something he can hold over my head later.

The waitress returns with my water and the two milkshakes, setting everything on the table in front of us. “Your food will be out soon,” she says in a cheerful voice before taking off again.

My eyes land on the tall glass in front of me. The whipped cream swirl, topped with a maraschino cherry looks so perfect, I don’t even want to touch it.

“Have you been here before?” Kellen asks as he picks up a straw from the table. I watch him unwrap it and put it in his milkshake before I answer.

“No. I don’t usually go out to eat.” I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to a restaurant. We just don’t have the money for it. That must be hard to understand for someone like Kellen.