Destined

10.

"What are you gonna eat?" Jayon asks me after a moment of silence at our table.
I shrugged.

"Come on baby girl."

"How many other girls do you call that?" I immediately asked.

He looks at me like a second head has just grown out of my neck, turning his phone down to face the table.

"Hello?" I make myself louder.

"I mean it's just a nickname. It's very common. I call almost every girl I know that and to be honest, I've lost track," he says. "It's funny cause a girl has never asked me how many other girls I call baby girl."

His honesty shocks me in such a way I begin to smile. Not happy smile though, an irritable type of smile. I was expecting him to lie just a little bit, but from his response I realized he was probably gonna be first person I knew to never lie to me.

"I don't want to be called something you call every other girl, you know why? Because I'm not every other girl. I'm different and I deserve to be treated differently. I don't want a nickname if it's not meaningful, and I don't want a nickname you're gonna share with other people. If you're gonna call me something I want it to be just for me, not just for you. All this time that nickname has been comforting for you, not me," I glanced around to see if anyone was eavesdropping on our conversation. Surprisingly no one was.

He looks at me with a infectious grin. His pupils start to grow the longer he stares at me. "That's the most you've talked to me since we've met," he tells me.

I smile slightly, looking away from him. I began to fidget with my nails until I felt his finger below my chin, tilting my head towards him again. "You can't be shy around me no more," he says.

"I'm not shy," I say, in pure in-denial. I was intensely shy.

He picks up a menu and begins to read from it. "I'm getting something from the burger menu, let's share some fries? Unless you want your own," he speaks. I did want my own, I was actually very hungry, but I didn't mind sharing with him either.

"Imma get you your own," he reads my mind as I nod. "I want chicken fingers," I tell him. He takes my menu from me and puts his on top of mine, setting it to the side.

"For desert, I'll get you a milkshake,"

"Thank you Jayon, aren't you gonna get desert?" I ask him.

"You're my desert," he smirks. "For later though,"

I blush, covering my mouth with one of my hands. "You can't keep talking to me like that in public places, I feel wrong when you do—like people can hear us."

"Let them hear us," he raises his voice obnoxiously, causing different people to look at us weirdly. "I hate you," I say putting my head down.

The waiter comes to our table with a welcoming exterior. He looks at Jayon then at me.

"You are just a darling, aren't you?" he squeals. I smile at him, staring at Jayon, who is keeping a laugh inside. Our waiter was definitely unique. His hair had different colors in it like teal and pink, and he wore rings on each of his pale fingers. He even had a tattoo on his right cheek of a small star.

"Thank you," I say to him before we begin to order.

"Now what'll it be dolls? Can I recommend the Philly cheese steak? It's delicious, especially with our famous salad on the side," he winks.

"No thank you, just 2 sides of fries-" I start.

"A bacon cheeseburger," Jayon cuts me off.

"And chicken fingers," I finish. 

"Alrighty, that'll be all?" He points his pen at each of us. We nod, waiting for him to walk away from our table. "Be back in 20," he calls back to us.

I look at my phone for the time once again. It had just hit 9. "I have 2 more hours."
Time was definitely on my side today.

"Good. Now tell me about you, I know there's more to you than you show," he takes a drink from his water.

"Well, I live with my Mom and my younger brother. My Dad left us when our Grandma died," I say. Oh great. I barely knew him and was already giving him a sob story.

"Was your Grandma that passed your Dad's Mom?" he asks curiously.

"Yeah."

He nods, shaking his head. "That's maybe why he felt like he had to leave. Grief is a fucked up emotion. He'll come back, I know he will. I never even knew my Dad," he tells me.

I started to think about the common stereotypes between black Fathers and their children.

"I think my brother has a hard time with it. He's 14," I tell him. "I hate that you don't know your Dad though. He's definitely missing out,"

"I have a younger sister, she's 13. I'm like the only male figure in her life to teach her wrong from right. Maybe her and your brother could link up sometime."

"I bet she's so sweet," I tell him. "My brother definitely wouldn't mind that. He needs more friends,"

He laughs, showing the one little dimple he had on the right side of his mouth.
"She aight. Very obsessed with her hair though. It's unnatural at this point,"

"Really?" I ask looking at his hair, layered on the top of his head. "Are you mixed with anything?"

"Lil bit of Puerto Rican," he says. "I barely claim it though."

"Why? You should be comfortable in the skin you're in Jayon. I love the fact that you're foreign."

"Yeah, I know I know. Girls love mixed boys."

"I'm all black," I say.

"Perfect," he blushes. I blush with him.

"I love that," he starts.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"Nothin', just wanna see you smile everyday. You deserve too. You deserve a lot actually," he tells me.

He was wrong though, cause I deserved everything I had at this moment with him, and nothing more.