"If you ever try that shit again, I'll murder you and hide your body parts in a Ziploc bag."
Sapphire Sanders is almost 18 years old, and she's about to graduate high school. She only lives with her siblings, since her parents are basically non exis...
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Fries.
It was just fries.
That was what I've been telling myself for the mere 30 minutes I'd been at Neon.
Cam made me come out of the house because literally no one was at home since Em had taken Carlos to an arcade and Charlotte and Milo were apparently talking.
Talking.
Cam had ordered for me, insisting that he had to pay since he was the only redhead in the restaurant, which didn't make any actual sense but there was really no use in arguing with Cam.
Totally unrelated but Trevor had been stealing glances at me since I had walked in.
Should I be worried about that?
Or should I be more worried that I had been doing the same when he wasn't looking?
"Holy smokes that guy is hot." Cam suddenly says, making me snap out of my totally fry related thoughts.
I had just looked at Cam for a second before my eyes went back to Trevor.
He was somehow now on fire.
"Are you saying that because he's hot or because he's on fire?" I ask incredulously, a hint of panic threatening to appear in my voice, but I stuff it down.
I do not care.
I don't.
Even though the right arm of his t shirt was doused in flames and he was flapping it around like a madman while simultaneously trying to enter the kitchen without alarming the now, huge number of customers.
He failed. Horrifically.
How does your hand even catch fire when you're not even in the kitchen?
I was about standing up to see if he was alright when he finally succeeded in entering the kitchen, and I heard the relieving hiss of the fire being put out by what I assume was a bowl of water casually standing around because Trevor and Davon worked there.
That's reason enough.
"So you do admit he's hot then." Cans voice snaps me out from reality again, and I look back at him only to discover he had made these weird looking glasses out of my remaining fries.
Weirdo.
"Never said he wasn't." I mutter, sitting back down and snatching the 'glasses' away from his face and putting them in my leftover bag.
Yes, I got a free leftover bag.
Because I was a frequent customer, of course.
"You said the burning guy was hot. You never admit burning people are hot."
"When have we ever discussed about hot burning people?"
"Now. And you said he was hot." He said in an irritatingly teasing voice, leaning closer to me in his chair.
