Gone

“Will I still get laid,” Liam started conversationally in the middle of the diner, knowing that his words wouldn’t carry over the din of the restaurant, “if I told you that I threw the match?”

I looked up at him, raising one eyebrow as I finished chewing the French fry in my mouth. They were perfectly crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside, which was exactly how I loved my fries. “What are you talking about?”

Liam let out a breath and ran a hand through his curly hair. “Yesterday, the football match? I kind of let you win because I didn’t want to force you to go out with me against your will. I figured that, if you wanted to go out with me, you should decide to do it of your own accord.”

I popped my lips and narrowed my eyes. Of course, I’d noticed that he didn’t seem to be playing his hardest, necessarily, but I’d just attributed it to the fact that showing off was most important to him: if he had no one to impress, then he faltered somewhat. “Are you serious? You didn’t play your hardest against me?”

He shook his head slowly. “Not to make you think that you’re not a good player, of course. You’re incredible.”

“Damn right,” I interjected.

“It’s just that I held back a lot. If you ever want to play for real, just give me a ring, and we can play.”

“You’ll probably just fake an injury again so you can try to have sex with me to save yourself the embarrassment.” I reached over and took a small sip of my Coke.

“It was worth a shot!” Liam laughed. “But you never answered my question.”

I let out a sigh and thought back in the conversation. “I never guaranteed whether you’d get lucky tonight or not, so I guess you’ll never know whether it hurt your chances.”

“Woman, you’re killing me.” He gave her a huge grin to show that he was killing before polishing off the cheeseburger in front of him. “God, I love hamburgers. That’s the one great thing about America.”

“Hold on,” I demanded, putting up a hand and glaring at him. “Are you trying to tell me that there aren’t any burgers in England?”

“I’m not saying there aren’t, necessarily, but they’re certainly not as readily available. And I think you guys have a wider variety of what you put on the burgers instead of just the standard.”

“Wow,” I breathed, sitting back in my chair. “Then don’t count on me visiting you in England when you go back. I wouldn’t be able to live without burgers.”

There was a long, awkward silence that followed my words, and I struggled to hide the blush that was growing deeper and hotter by the second. It was the first time the reality had come up, that Liam was only there for the school year. Once the year was over, while I graduated and prepared myself for college, he would be shipped back to Great Britain. It was a harsh reality, but that just made me more determined to make his experience in the U.S. as great as it could possibly be.

“Hi, guys!” Our peppy brunette waitress appeared out of nowhere, a smile brightening her whole face and setting off a sparkle in her dark eyes. She really was pretty, I had to admit, and I could tell that Liam agreed, although he hadn’t said anything. “Are you all set with your plates?”

I nodded as I grabbed the last four fries off my place, stuffing two of them into my mouth and chewing as I glanced back at the ice cream menu. “I’ll be right back to take your dessert orders,” she informed the two of us before hurrying back toward the kitchen, probably trying to make it to the sink before she dropped the plates and got ketchup everywhere.

Liam immediately reached for a menu, while I leaned my face on my hand and watched him. His dark eyes didn’t seem to notice as they scanned across the various kinds of ice cream and what sundaes, malts, and other things could be done with them. His full lips quirked up in one corner, almost like he was amused by the sheer number of options.

I couldn’t believe I’d deluded myself into thinking that I hated him for weeks. Maybe because it had just been easier to dislike him than to get emotionally involved. Our relationship had a very definitive expiration date, and it was certainly a lot of stress on the both of us to make the bond worth it while it lasted.

“Why are you staring at me?” Liam questioned, his tone colored with amusement.

“I wasn’t staring at you. I was spacing out,” I defended, straightening, thankful that the lie was easy enough to pass off. “It tends to happen when I’m stuck waiting for you to pick something to order for five hundred years.”

“It was only four hundred ninety-nine years, thank you,” he joked, chuckling to himself, like he thought he was just the funniest thing.

Just then, our waitress came back, and we both gave our orders: a hot fudge sundae with double chocolate brownie ice cream for me and a banana split for Liam.

“A banana split,” I repeated as the pretty young woman walked away from the table. “Interesting choice. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone order that before.”

“I couldn’t help myself. It just seemed to traditionally American, you know?”

I snorted with laughter as I shook my head. “So you’re just trying to be as traditionally American as you can while you’re here?”

“Oh, yeah. When in Rome…”

“Your accent kind of ruins your attempt to blend in,” I told him in a monotone voice, and his laugh rang throughout the restaurant, causing a couple people around us to turn and see what the commotion was all about.

“Yes, I figured that,” he responded simply before sipping his water again. “Thank you for reminding me, though.”

“No problem.” I shot him a small smile as I changed the subject. “So, I have to ask, do you like American accents? Or do they just sound really dumb to you?”

“It depends,” he answered honestly. “Like, yours is nice. I really like the accents around here. They seem so formal.” I almost choked when he called our accents formal, since it seemed so incredibly backward, but I didn’t want to interrupt. “But I’ve heard some American accents that made me want to hit myself in the face with a slab of wood.”

“What did they sound like?”

His cheekbones reddened as he shook his head. “Oh, no, I can’t. I’m rubbish at accents. I can’t do them at all.”

“I bet you can. Just try. I promise I won’t laugh at you.”

He took a deep breath, finally convinced, and started speaking in a strange sort of tone that I’d never heard before. His English accent was clearly getting in the way, and he was unable to suppress it enough for me to understand. But with the words he used, it didn’t take me long to figure out what he meant. “Howdy thur, y’aaaall. I’m just gonna take my this here horse down to the waaa-terrr-ing hooole.”

The laugh that fought its way to escape from my mouth absolutely could not be repressed. Tears sprang to my eyes as I struggled to calm myself down, and my stomach ached from laughing too hard. “Oh, honey,” I joked, reaching across the table to pat Liam’s hand with my own, “please don’t ever try to move down south.”

“You promised you wouldn’t laugh.” He pretended to pout for a second before shaking his head and chuckling. “Okay, I guess it was pretty bad.”

“Pretty bad doesn’t even begin to cover it. That was probably the worst thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

“Wow, Frankie. Tell me how you really feel.”

Just then, our waitress came back, donning our ice cream sundaes. “Enjoy!” she granted, hurrying over to the table next to us to take their bill.

“Instead of getting offended by my laughter, just eat your feelings with your traditional American cuisine.” Smirking at him, I put a spoonful of brownie ice cream in my mouth, letting the chocolate perfection wash over my tongue.