“Um, not since my apartment?” I giggled.

“Are you serious? That was like thirty minutes ago,” Christos said, feigning shock. “I must be the worst boyfriend ever. We’ll have to work on that,” he smirked.

I wondered what that meant. I saw the wheels turning behind his eyes as he worked over some mysterious thought in his head. My heart suddenly fluttered.

“Samantha,” he said softly, “to me, your beauty is the most treasured gift Mother Nature has ever given. Like the petals of a rose, your face reminds all mankind that in a harsh world, impossible beauty is still possible. To gaze upon you is a blessing to all men, but I am the luckiest of all, for each morning I am reborn as I drink from the golden cup of your grace, and find that my deepest dreams and desires have all come true.”

Oh. My. Fuck me now, God.

The lump in my throat was the size of a basketball. My mouth hung open. I suspected drool ran down my chin, but I was distracted by the fact my body was on fire, raging with desire. All I could think about was the nuclear blast mushroom-clouding out from my core.

Would it be impolite for Christos to lay me down on one of the cushioned benches in the lobby of The Broken Yolk and take my virginity in front of everyone while we waited for our table? Unfortunately, a foggy corner of my brain suggested it would.

Drat.

Not that I wanted an audience, but I was feeling slightly impatient to get my panties off at the moment. Maybe someone could yell “Fire!” and clear the room?

No, that wouldn’t work either. The fire department would show up way too quick, which would again put a damper on things. On second thought, I’d probably need them to douse me and Christos to keep us from spontaneously combusting while we went at it.

Okay, this wasn’t getting me anywhere. I tried to snap myself out of my sultry fantasy. So I focused on Christos’ grinning lips, which were an inch from mine. Not helping. I wanted to devour them.

Luckily, out of the corner of my eye, I slowly became aware of Romeo gawking at us like we were a three-dollar peep show. That broke the spell.

I glanced over at Romeo. He looked hypnotized. His eyes seemed to spiral randomly. His head lolled in lazy circles. I think he was in rapture.

“Are you okay, Romeo?” I giggled.

“I think I just witnessed the second coming,” he moaned.

Kamiko groaned from the bench, “Yours or Samantha’s?”

Romeo burst out laughing.

While snickering at Kamiko’s punchline, Christos pecked me on the cheek. “How was that?”

I blinked at him several times. “Huh?” I was still transfixed.

“My love sonnet?” he grinned.

“Oh, yeah. Did you make that up just now, or did you read it somewhere?” His answer had to be no, because no man could possibly be this perfect.

“No,” he smiled.

I felt a sudden pinch of disappointment. Oh well. No one was perfect perfect. Not even Christos.

He flashed a cocky smile. “I worked it out in my head this morning after I woke up, while you nuzzled against me. I kept looking at you, feeling this overwhelming sense of gratitude and love for having you in my life. I didn’t have a paint brush handy, and I didn’t want to wake you up to grab a sketchbook, so I did my best to capture the moment in words.”

THUMP!

Romeo had slid from the bench and fallen to his knees. He wrapped his arms around my leg and wailed, “Please, Sam! Let me have just one night with him! I’ll do anything! Please!!!”

Yes, everyone in the lobby was gawking at Romeo while he sobbed. He didn’t care.

Between Romeo’s emotional flood and my full body flush, I needed a moment away from the staring eyes of the customers in the lobby.

“Hey, Kamiko,” I hissed while tugging at her shoulder, “do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“Baaaaah,” she moaned, still balled up on the couch.

I was on my own. “I’ll be in the restroom,” I said to Christos. I skulked into the Ladies Room and locked myself in a stall, fanning my face while my heart rate returned to normal.

After splashing water in my face at the restroom sink and toweling off, I returned to the lobby.

SAMANTHA

The waiting crowd at the Broken Yolk had thinned. Romeo sat beside Kamiko on the couch.

“Hey, Kamiko,” Romeo said, trying to shake her awake. “I know Cartoon Hangover is your favorite channel on Youtube, because they have all the episodes of Bravest Warriors for free. But how do you like having a real hangover? Are you going to officially ‘Like’ it and click the thumbs-UP icon?”

“Leave her alone, Romeo,” I smiled. “She’s dying.”

Without looking up, Kamiko raised her hand and gave Romeo a thumb’s DOWN gesture.

Romeo cackled with laughter. He leaned over and massaged her shoulder affectionately. “Don’t worry, Kamiko, we’ll kick your hangover by dinner. Even if it means more drinks.”

Kamiko groaned.

One of the things I loved about The Broken Yolk was that they were locally notorious for serving a dozen-egg omelet and biscuits called the Challenge. Madison had told me all about it the first time she’d taken me here.

The Challenge omelet was free if you finished it in less than an hour, and you even got a plaque on the wall of fame, but one person had to eat the whole thing by themselves. The idea made me want to barf, but I still thought it was totally cool that they made it free for the winners. I never dared. I was totally down with their human-sized portions.

“You know, Christos,” I said, “they serve a gigantic dozen-egg omelet here.”

He raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s, like, thirty bucks, but if you finish it in an hour, it’s free.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” he smiled.

I grinned coyly. “I bet you couldn’t eat the whole thing.”

“Probably not today.”

“You’re not chicken, are you?” I prodded.

“Who, me? No way,” he scoffed.

“Then you should totally order it.”

“Naw, I think I’ll be good with a three-egger. Maybe four, if I’m feeling dangerous.”

I cackled, “Chicken! Bock, bock!”

Christos smirked, glancing at Romeo. “Look at this crazy girl, trying to goad me into a gut-bomb.”

Romeo put his hands on his hips and did a head roll. “I don’t know, C-man. A real man never backs down from a challenge.”

“You calling me out, Romeo?” Christos asked confidently. “You ready to go head-to-head?”

Fear pinched Romeo’s face. “Oh, um,” he giggled nervously, “I’m not a real man.” He shrugged his shoulders.

Christos smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

“Come on, Christos,” I jabbed, “you don’t get off that easily. I’m still issuing the challenge, for the Challenge,” I winked at him, “no pun intended.”

Christos sighed indulgently. “Give it a rest, Samantha.”

“I knew it!” I squealed. “You’re just chicken! I’m totally not buying your whole ‘I’m too cool for gruel’ routine. Be a man, Christos. Show us what you’ve got. Order the Challenge.”

Christos tilted his head at me with a mildly annoyed look on his face, then held his hand up and tipped it behind him, pointing at a wall covered in row upon row of little brass plaques. His finger pointed decisively at one specific plaque.

Not getting it, I frowned. “What?”

“Go ahead and look, big mouth,” he said confidently.

I squinted.

“Do you need me to pick you up so you can read it?”

“No,” I said dismissively, “I can do it myself.” I stood on my tiptoes to read it.

“Christos “The Man” Manos

7-21-2010

17 MIN.”

“What!” I gasped. “No way!” I scanned the other plaques. Most seemed to be in the 30, 40, and 50 minute category. “Seventeen minutes has to be the record!”

“Last I heard,” Christos said casually, “the record was seven-fifteen. Guy had a hollow leg.”

Beside me, Romeo scrutinized the plaque. “Wow, C-man, you sure have a manly appetite.”