But those tears weren’t hopeless tears. As long as she was passing her community college courses, she still had a chance to get out eventually. Climbing a mountain happened one step at a time. Transfer credits happened one class at a time.
The bell above the diner door tinkled. Out of habit, Selina looked at it, even though her shift was over. The man who’d left her that twenty-dollar tip was walking through the door. He caught her gaze, and he blinked several times before giving her a tentative smile and walking over.
“You said you wouldn’t be here,” he said, standing above her table in a reversal of their roles from this morning.
“Jesse hasn’t shown up yet. I didn’t want you to think no one in town was interested in your adventures.” She managed a small smile. Having a stranger see tears streaking down her cheeks was embarrassing. She could at least hope the smile would distract him.
Whether or not it did, he had the decency to at least pretend he didn’t notice that she’d been crying, answering her smile with a floppy one of his own.
Floppy was a good adjective for the stranger. His wavy, dark-brown hair flopped over his forehead, his neck, and his ears. His nose was a little too big and the tip of it too round for his face, but it—and his thick eyebrows—gave his face character and intelligence. It was that intelligence she’d reacted to earlier, flirting back instead of slinking off to the mop closet for a nap. And it was that intelligence that answered the question that had been lurking in the back of her mind since he’d walked in that morning.
Yup. He was cute.
“Can I sit down?” he asked, gesturing at the empty seat across from her.
“Yeah,” she said, nodding. She needed company—someone cute, smart, and not creepy. Someone from outside this little forgotten town.
“You still working?”
“What?” She looked down, a little surprised to see that she was still wearing the Creamsicle-colored outfit. “No. I just don’t want to go home.” That was less embarrassing to admit that than to tell him she didn’t really have a home anymore.
“Can I buy you dinner? No strings. Just dinner.” His eyes gleamed with sincerity.
“I work here. Babe’ll feed me for free.”
“I’ll take you somewhere else, then. I saw a steakhouse.”
“No, not there.” Gary liked to go there, and the owner liked her stepfather’s nasty, mean sense of humor. “There’s China Garden.”
“Is it good?”
She shrugged. “It’s good compared to the other Chinese restaurants in the area. They have pork and seeds.”
“Pork and seeds?”
“Pieces of smoked pork you dip in hot mustard, then sesame seeds.”
His eyes widened, and for a moment she wondered if he would make fun of the small town and its Chinese restaurant where pork and seeds were the highlight. But he only said, “All right,” and started sliding out of his chair.
“Do you need directions?” she asked as she pushed herself out of the booth.
“Nah. I’ve got a GPS and three phones. If I get lost, I deserve to starve.” Then he laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“I was lost this morning with those three phones and GPS. I had no idea where I was. But I found Babe’s, so it worked out in the end.”
“Oh.” The subtle compliment made her heart feel big and the tearstains on her cheeks unimportant. “I just need to change. I’ll meet you there in a couple minutes.”
He hesitated for a moment, and she wondered if he was worried she’d stand him up. “What’s your name?” he asked instead.
“Selina.”
“I’m Marc. See you at the China Garden in ten minutes, Selina.”
She nodded. It was just dinner and he was a stranger who was going to leave town at any moment, but the night was looking up.
*
She pushed open the large wooden door and scanned the restaurant for a now-familiar head of hair and the tops of slightly-too-big ears. The restaurant looked the same as it had since she was a child—the same red vinyl booths, the same red carpet with gold flecks, the same red Chinese lanterns with black script hanging from the ceiling. As a nod to the season, “Silent Night” was playing and there was fake greenery above the cash register.
She almost missed Marc, whose head was blocked by the salad bar in the middle of the restaurant.
“Hey,” she said as she slid into the booth. Even though this wasn’t a date, her heart fluttered.
Of course, if it wasn’t a date, what the hell was it?
“Hey,” he said back. “You look nice, but I miss the Popsicle look.”
“Thanks.” She was wearing the same clothes she’d had on last night, when she’d been driving around town, but the jeans fit well and she liked the funny cartoon potato on her purple T-shirt. It was silly, but she needed a little silly in her life.
“Don’t get me wrong, the uniform was cute, too.”