Your Hand In Mine

"Alright, explain this me again. I'm so confused," I said to Kris. Whatever he was talking about, it involved a coin and directions.

"Okay. So you pick a starting point, which would be this parking lot. Then, before you get to an intersection, you flip a coin. If it is 'ead you turn left. If it is tail you turn right. Or vice versa."

"Oh, now I get it. But how do we figure out where we're eating?"

"Um, I guess we could just keep flipping the coin until we come to a street that 'as a good restaurant?"

"Creative."

"I 'ave my moment," he smirked. "'ere, you flip it. I 'ave to drive," he said and handed me a quarter.

"Alright," I started and flipped the quarter. "It's heads, so go left."

"Left it is," he said and pulled out of the parking space.

"Right," I said as we came to the first intersection. "Right again." We weren't turning right. In fact, we were going left. "Uh.. Kris?"

"I know my right from my left, do not worry. But I could not get into that lane, so we will just say it was tail."

"Okay, just checking." I flipped the coin about a dozen more times, and we finally decided on a restaurant--Fat Tommy's Pizzeria.

"Ever been 'ere?" Kris asked me as we stepped out of his car.

"Nope. You?"

He shook his head no. "Wonder if the pizza is any good."

"We'll see."
He opened the door for me and we found a booth. The waiter came over to where we were sitting. He looked us up and down and then gave us semi dirty looks--we were still covered in paint. "Hi. I'll be serving you tonight. My name's Rob. Can I get you something to drink?" he said in a bored tone.

"I'll have a water, no lemon, please." I told the guy. He nodded his head and cast his eyes down my shirt. Now would probably be a good time to pull up my tank top.

"I will 'ave a Sprite," Kris interrupted with a bit of a rude tone.

"Sure. I'll be back in few," Rob said and walked off.

"What a pervert," I said as soon as the guy was out of hearing range.

"Oui. If 'e does it again, I am saying something." That's nice of him. Most guys would've probably looked down my shirt, too, when they notice someone else doing it. They might've even tricked me into bending over.

"If you don't, I will," I said with a smile. "Pepperoni?" I asked Kris, referring to the pizza.

"Nah. I say we pick random topping. Only if you want to, though," he said and threw me a smile.

I laughed. "Is this another one of your so called 'moments'?"

He nodded his head. "Ladies first."

"Okay," I smiled. "Uh.. hot peppers," I said as I skimmed the 'Toppings' section of the menu.

"Good choice. I am going to go with extra cheese."

"Bacon."

"Anchovy."

"No, those things are disgusting."

He put on a fake pout. "Fine with me. I do not like them, either."

"Then why'd you say anchovies?" I laughed.

"I don't know," he shrugged. He's a piece of work, this guy.

"Men," I mumbled and shook my head.

"I 'eard that."

"You were supposed to," I laughed. "It's still your turn to pick."

"Oh," Kris said and then looked back at the menu. "Black olive."

"Green peppers."

"Here you are," the waiter interrupted us and put our drinks on the table. "Are you ready to order, or do you need more time?" he asked.

"No. We will 'ave a-," Kris said and stopped then looked up at Rob. "You only 'ave large, extra large, and single slice?" That's weird.

"Yup."

"Okay. We will take a large then. And can we 'ave extra cheese, hot pepper, green pepper, bacon and black olive on it?" Kris said.

"Sure. It'll be out in about fifteen minutes," he said, and I noticed his eyes start to drift back to my chest.

I saw Kris open his mouth to say something, but I beat him to it. "If I were you, I would stop looking down my shirt."

"Sorry," he muttered and put his hands in the air like he was surrendering.

"Abruti foutu," Kris spat in French as Rob started to walk away. I just assumed that what he said wasn't exactly nice.

"I'd really love to punch that guy in the face."

"Me, too. You might do more damage than me, though, especially after 'earing about that crayon story," he said with a laugh.

"That's not fair. You know stories about me, but I don't know any about you."

"Um..," he said and paused for a moment. "This one time, well, in Junior, they pulled prank left and right. I remember the one day I was out on the ice wit' a few of my teammate before a game, and they thought it would be funny to duct tape my 'and and feet to the goal post. Then they.. what do you call it when people pull down your pants? There's a word for it, I know there is," he said, trying to think of the right word.

"They pantsed you?" I guessed.

"Yeah! That's it! They pantsed me. Then they went back to the locker room, and the fan started filling in the stand. I remember the exact pair of boxer I 'ad on that day, too--bright pink with red 'eart," he laughed. "The 'ole arena was laughing at me," he said and laughed some more. "And when I was coming out onto the ice, I fell on my face. It was that same game, too."

"That's pretty embarrassing. But bright pink boxers and hearts? Why did you even have those?" I laughed.

"I t'ink I got them from my aunt for my birthday, actually," he shrugged.

"I have to meet her and thank her for buying them so I could hear a good story."

"Not going to 'appen. You two would get in some serious trouble, I can see it now."

"Fine," I pouted, and he simply smirked back at me.

"Oh! I got another," Kris said. "When I was in 'igh school, I decided to ask this girl out. I was at the mall with some of my friend, and we saw 'er there with some of her friend. My friend convince me to finally ask 'er. I was a pretty shy guy back then." He wasn't that much of a shy guy, at least from what I could tell. He was just.. quieter than most, I guess? "Anyway, she was sitting on the ledge of a water fountain, and I guess I scare 'er, because she fell backward into the water when I walked up beside 'er. She got out of the water and then push me into it. Next thing I know, she is walking away, and everyone who watched what was happening laugh at me. "

I cracked up. "That sucks. I wouldn't have shoved you in the water, but I probably would've splashed you and made you dry my hair or something. Did you she say yes to you?"

"Nope," he said and shook his head. "I found out she cheated on her boyfriend, multiple time, by the way. And I am glad she didn't say yes, because that guy could 'ave been me.

I nodded my head. "Well, you sure have a way with the ladies."

"'ey, I must be doing something right," he said, leaving me a little confused. He must've realized that I was lost because he spoke up. "I scared you and made you fall to the ground, but you did not run off, and you turned out to be nothing like 'er." That could either be good or bad. Shall we start with the positives first? He realized I'm not a slut, and I don't cheat on my boyfriends. On to the negatives. He was obviously interested in this girl--who is nothing like me--which probably means she's prettier, skinnier, smarter, has a better personality--I'm just going to stop now and save myself the grief of picking out everything that's wrong with me.

Positives, two. Negatives, at least four.

"Um, thanks, I guess?"

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that, not at all," he said quickly. "I meant that you are nothing like 'er, in a good way," he assured me. "You are a lot more beautiful than she will ever be. Your 'umor is great. You are not a 'ore. And you see life a 'ole different way than she do."

I immediately blushed. "Thanks."

"You are welcome," he said and gave me a big, crooked grin.

"So, did you always want to be a hockey player?" I asked him, changing the subject.

He shook his head. "I remember wanting to be a pilot and to see the world. I t'ink I might 'ave want to be a dentist, too, but I am not sure," he smiled. "Alway wanted to be a photographer?" he asked me.

"Sort of. I wanted to do something that dealt with a form of art. I thought about being a pastry chef, or an artist, or something like that. In the end, I decided to be a photographer. I like capturing moments of happiness, I guess," I shrugged. He smiled in response.

We talked for a few more minutes until our dick of a waiter came back. He set our pizza down, got us extra napkins, and refilled our drinks, all without looking down my shirt. He wouldn't even glance in my direction, actually. I guess I must have laughed out loud, because Kris gave me a funny look. "Sorry, I was just thinking."

"About?"

"How scared our waiter seemed. He wouldn't even look at me."

"It is a good thing 'e didn't, because I would 'ave open up a can of whoop-ass," Kris said. I laughed at his referral to The Waterboy. "Waterboy fan, eh?" he asked.

I nodded my head. "My mama said.. m-my mama said.. my-my mama said..," I stuttered and earned a laugh from Kris.

"Remember the time Bobby Boucher show up at 'alftime, and the Mud Dog won the Bourbon Bowl, do ya?" he said the same way Adam Sandler did, except Kris had a bit of a French accent.

"Captain Insano shows no mercy."

"I 'ave not seen a tackle like that since Joe Montana."

"Joe Montana was a quarterback, you idiot," I mimicked.

"I said Joe Mantegna."

"Shut up and eat," I smiled.