Chapter 86
**Sara**
I leaned back in the passenger seat of Tom's car, watching the city lights blur past us as we cruised through the night. The cool air from the AC brushed against my skin, and I stole glances at Tom's profile, illuminated by the dashboard lights.
"So, what're you in the mood for?" Tom asked, his eyes flicking to me before returning to the road.
"Surprise me. I'm up for anything you've got in mind."
"Anything, huh? Careful what you wish for."
I leaned closer, my breath tickling his ear. "I'm counting on it."
He made a sudden turn, and I clutched the door handle.
"Hold on tight," he teased. "I know just the place."
We drove for a while, the anticipation building with each passing minute. I tried to guess where we were headed, but Tom kept mum, his lips curved in a secretive smile that was driving me crazy.
Finally, we pulled into a parking lot, and I blinked in surprise. The neon sign above the building read "Golden Crunch."
I turned to Tom, unable to keep the laughter from bubbling up. "Fried chicken? Really?"
He shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. "What? I thought you said you were up for anything."
"I guess I did. Well, Professor, lead the way. Let's see if your taste in chicken is as good as in women's."
I followed Tom into the Golden Crunch, the scent of fried chicken and spices hitting me as soon as we stepped through the door. The place was bustling with life, a mix of families and night diners filling the booths and tables.
"Classy joint you've brought me to," I teased, nudging him with my elbow.
"Only the best for you," he said with a wink.
We approached the counter, and I scanned the menu board overhead. "What's good here?"
"Everything," Tom said confidently. "But their spicy chicken sandwich is legendary."
"Alright, I'll trust your judgment. One spicy chicken sandwich, please," I told the cashier.
"Make that two," Tom added. "And a large fries to share."
We grabbed our food and found a booth in the corner. I took a bite of my sandwich and had to admit, it was pretty damn good.
"So, Tom," I said, wiping a bit of sauce from the corner of my mouth, "spill the beans. What's your dating history like? Any messy breakups, or have you just been living the bachelor life?"
"What brought this on?"
I shrugged, trying to keep it casual. "Just curious. You know plenty about me, but you're still a bit of a mystery."
He took a long sip of his drink, clearly stalling. "I don't know if this is really dinner conversation material."
"Oh, come on," I pressed. "It can't be that bad. What, did you date a serial killer or something?"
"I would prefer not to discuss my past relationships if that’s alright with you."
I raised an eyebrow. "Ooh, touchy subject. Now, I'm even more intrigued. Spill it. Who broke your heart?"
"Sara, please," he said, his tone sharper than I'd ever heard. "I said I don't want to discuss it."
I held up my hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Message received. No need to bite my head off."
An awkward silence fell between us. I focused on my sandwich, suddenly finding the breading texture incredibly fascinating. Tom picked at his fries. His earlier good mood seemingly evaporated.
I chewed my sandwich slowly, trying to savor the spicy flavors, but the tension in the air made it taste like cardboard. Tom's sudden mood shift had thrown me for a loop. Here we were, sitting in a greasy fast-food joint, surrounded by the cacophony of families and drunk college kids, and I'd managed to kill the vibe faster than you could say "relationship baggage."
I glanced at Tom, who was now methodically dismantling his fries like they'd offended him. His brow was furrowed, and I could practically see the storm clouds gathering over his head. It was kind of adorable, in a grumpy professor sort of way.
As I watched him wage war on his potato victims, a thought struck me. What if someone had cheated on him? The way he clammed up at the mere mention of past relationships had to be something big. Maybe I'd accidentally poked at an old wound that hadn't healed.
I mean, I knew a thing or two about cheating. Matt's betrayal was still fresh in my mind, a constant ache that flared up at the most inconvenient times. Like now, for instance, when I was supposed to be enjoying a greasy feast with a hot professor. Talk about a mood killer.
Speaking of mood killers, I suddenly realized it had been too long since I'd talked to Claire. Geez, how long had it been? Days? Weeks? Time had a funny way of slipping through your fingers when you were busy getting frisky with your professor. Not that I was complaining, mind you.
Claire. My friend who'd dropped the Matt-shaped bomb on my life. I owed her big time for that little revelation. Sure, finding out your boyfriend's a cheating scumbag isn't exactly on anyone's Christmas wish list, but at least Claire had the decency to rip off that Band-Aid before I wasted any more time on that loser.
I wondered how she was doing. Knowing Claire, she was probably neck-deep in some new drama or a Tinder date gone horribly wrong. That girl attracted chaos like a magnet. It was part of her charm, really.
As I sat there, watching Tom wage his one-man war against his french fries, I made a mental note to give Claire a call. Maybe we could meet for coffee or, better yet, a much-needed girls' night out.
I glanced at Tom again, wondering if he was going to sit there in stony silence for the rest of our meal or if he'd actually want to talk about... well, anything. The way he was murdering those fries, you'd think they owed him money.
I cleared my throat. "So... lovely weather we're having, huh?"
Tom looked up, his eyebrow raised. "Really? We're doing small talk now?"
"It was either that or sit here watching you commit potato genocide. I figured I'd take my chances with the weather."
Tom's lips twitched, fighting a smile. "Potato genocide? That's a new one."
"I call 'em like I see 'em. Those poor fries never stood a chance."
He sighed, pushing his tray away. "I'm sorry, Sara. I didn't mean to ruin our night out."
"Hey, it's not ruined. We're still here, aren't we? Besides, I got to watch you wage war on some innocent french fries. That's quality entertainment right there."
"You're something else, you know that?"
"I've been told. Are you gonna finish those fries, or should I call for backup?"
He pushed the tray towards me. "Be my guest. I think I've done enough damage for one night."
I popped a fry into my mouth, savoring the salty crunch.
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