January 14th: Long line at the Red Herring. Doesn't surprise me. I'm glad both Stella and I arrived a good fifteen minutes early. We're both huddled together on the awning outside, waiting as the long line in front of us returns out the door with dissatisfied looks on their faces. Wait times look like it's gonna be a 45 minute minimum, but whoever is hosting is probably inflating the wait times to get people to turn around.

That's fine.

Movie night was pushed back to 6 PM, Lynn has a hockey game to attend that was pushed from yesterday to today. Huge brawl broke out on the rink before their pee-wee game, something to do with a co-ed dating league getting mad at a bad call by a ref. I guess it must be hard dating as an adult if you gotta join a sport to meet someone who likes the same things as you.

It's 4, almost 4:30. Work crowd just got out.

A lot of regular faces, suits that just got off of their jobs working customer service looking to get blasted off of Long Island Iced Teas after a long weekend of getting yelled at over the phone. I remember the days when dad would return home with this blank-eyed stare. He'd just sit on the couch with the TV off, staring into his own reflection. Glad he got out of that hellhole.

Sometimes the blue collar crowd comes over to Lynn's Table but we don't have a liquor license, and from all the hooting and hollering going on I'm kinda glad we don't. We're usually a last minute kind of option for that crowd, the only thing we have is 4 dollar long necks that we keep in a semi-broken slightly-above-room-temperature wine cooler.

"Oh, that's probably why mom and dad always give me the stink face and say ooooh, but so-and-so is muuuuch closer," Stella scoffed as she flicked down on some 10 second video, "pffft, just say you want a drink, don't make a big deal out of it…"

I find myself flapping my gums about way more often than I usually do whenever I'm alone with Stella, probably because she usually respects my privacy and doesn't peek over my shoulder to see what I'm typing on my phone. She's usually on hers, halfway reading some article about robotics or snooping around on friendbook.

"Well, that's nice of you to say, dude," she rolled her eyes, they met mine and we shared a chuckle, "but you're back on the whole journaling thing? I guess using your phone is a bit less… disquieting than writing it all down."

I raised an eyebrow.

She smirked and put her phone away into her jacket pocket, "It's like… You'd look around the room and scribble something into that journal every fifteen seconds like some kind of insane person. At least now you look like every other phone-obsessed person out there."

I guess I'm normal now.

Stella was quiet for a bit before spitting out a laugh, "Nah, dogg. I wouldn't go that far…"

I thought about joining her, shoving my phone in my pocket and going about the events of the day without writing it all down. But this is pretty much as easy as thinking seeing as I got that one-thumb texting skill on lock. I even write my school papers like this, kinda worrying, honestly. Makes a dude wonder if he could actually pen a sentence without spellchecker.

Stella bobbed her head as we stepped forward in line, "You said it… God, essays are always what kill me whenever it's time for a test in class. I feel bad for whoever has to grade them."

We were now inside, no space on the couches. A bunch of familiar faces sitting below framed photos of cartoon fishes. Looks like the bar is open, a ton of them had drinks already in hand.

Not a whole lot to essays, all that teachers look for is that you have a thesis and follow the framework hammered into you at the beginning of the semester. You can say whatever you'd like so long as you throw in big words like "ergo" and they'll eat it up.

"That means therefore, right?" Stella twitched her nose as she looked around the crowded room, "Dude, are you sure that we can get seats here and make it in time for the movies? Aren't you going to show up early to help decorate?"

I walked up to the counter. Some girl with black hair tilted her head at me, she looked about my age.

"The wait time is about 3 hours if you'd like an inside seat-"

I told her that the patio is fine.

She let out a sigh of relief and grabbed two menus from the stack, "Finally! Someone with some sense! I keep telling people that it's a heated patio but they always-"

A fully bearded man in an apron emerged from the back and gave the girl a look, "Rachel, we talked about this."

The girl simply nodded and continued walking us toward the back without responding.

Stella whispered in my ear, "Lincoln, are you sure about eating outside? It's kinda chilly, and my jacket kinda smells like mildew. I left it in my mom's trunk after that big rain and-"

I told her that it should be fine, Benny and Luan said it was adequately heated. They sometimes have triple dates with Benny's parents, my parents, and Benny and Luan here.

"That sounds like the worst thing on the planet." Stella remarked.

I nodded my head as we weaved through the crowded restaurant. Stepping over fallen jackets and puddles of rainwater precariously dotting the wooden floors. People laughed, they scrapped their chairs and tables together. Sharing meals and drinks. I bet figuring out who is paying is a nightmare, feel bad for the wait staff but if they are pulling tables together they get to slam a 20 percent gratuity on them for how big the parties are getting.

Rachel (I guess this is Rachel, Jordan's ex-best friend) opened the door into the patio and we stepped out, it was a nice balmy 71 degrees out here. I quickly took off my red jacket and tied the sleeves around my wait before setting down on a table overlooking the busy street, Stella followed suit.

I gave a nod to Rachel, even smiled enough to show off my dimples, and thanked her for showing us to our seats.

Rachel stood there, "You're welcome."

She continued standing there, she looked like she was going to ask something, but she let her hand fall back down on her side.

"Your server will be with you shortly, what would you like to drink?"

Stella squinted at the menu and looked up at Rachel, "Could I get an iced tea, hold the ice?"

Rachel blinked, "D-did you want a hot tea or just an iced tea but with no ice?"

"An iced tea but with no ice," Stella nodded, "Sorry, I just have this habit of chewing on ice when I'm nervous."

Rachel looked at the two of us and blushed. She, again, looked like she was going to ask something.

"Will do." Rachel lowered her hand back to her side.

I told her that I could go for a glass of water and a krebstar cola.

"Okay," Rachel turned around and hurried to the door, "your server will be here with your drinks shortly."

Stella had the decency to wait before the door was closed to slam her menu onto the table, "DUDE! That was RACHEL! Jordan's ex-best-friend-forever-for-LYFE!"

Yeah, it was pretty awkward. I guess that's what happens when you live in a small town, everyone knows everybody. You can't touch your toes without getting a whiff of someone's butt-sweat.

"It's weird! Jordan told me so much about their falling out that seeing her in person is kinda… surreal. Like I feel like we shouldn't be here or something."

I mean, if Stella is uncomfortable I don't mind us bouncing and ordering some grubtum to the house.

Stella leaned back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling, "Nah, I feel like that would be even weirder. It'd be like admitting that something is up. It's probably better to just let Jordan's beef stay with Jordan, otherwise I'd be some kind of interloper or something."

The door opened, some dude arrived with a tray of drinks. In a flash he was over us, our drinks placed on fun looking coasters.

I think the Red Herring's mascot is kinda cool looking. Reminds me of a character out of Muscle Fish.

"Have y'all had enough time to order?" He asked in a fake southern drawl, "Would you like to start out with some appetizers?"

I shot Stella a look and she nodded and flashed me a thumbs up.

She handed both of the menus to the waiter and rattled off pur order, "I'll have the fried tilapia with the hush puppies and fries, no coleslaw. He'll have the same. Could we also get an order of mozzarella sticks and a large bowl of Royal Woods clam chowder with two spoons?"

The man pursed his lips and nodded as he punched in the order into a digital PDA, "Will do, the food will be out here shortly. Just give me a scream if y'all need anything."

We waited until the door was closed to resume talking.

Stella cleared her throat and shut her eyes tightly before taking a deep breath, "Is this a date? I know we said it wasn't, but it isn't, right?"

No, it's just two friends eating at a restaurant. If that counts as a date then I've pretty much dated Clyde a million times.

Stella sunk in her chair, "Oh thank God."

I couldn't help but laugh. I wouldn't strong arm Stella into a date just because she helped me out with something, that seems more like a punishment than anything else.

Stella threw up her arms, "No, I mean, like, I'd be okay with it being a date, but I'd need like a month's worth of time to mentally prepare myself for something like that. Me and dates aren't really two concepts that work well with each other."

My sentiments on that are the same. I've only been on double-dates before, and those are basically fever dreams except if your teeth fall out of your mouth they stay out. I've never actually been on a one-on-one PVP match when it comes to romance.

Stella ripped the paper off of her straw with her teeth to take a sip from her un-iced iced tea, "For sure. I feel like those are raid events, but instead of cool loot all that you get is sweaty palms and a hickey."

I leaned forward in my chair. Do hickeys scab? I feel like they would after a while. Lori had one that looked like she got hit by a baseball bat one time on the back of her neck, it looked pretty ding dang nasty.

Stella grimaced, "Dude, you're gonna make me lose my appetite."

I quickly changed the subject and asked Stella what she's been up to.

She stirred her drink and rubbed the back of her neck, "Well… been writing articles for the zine, but you know that. And I've been working on those amps, but you know that. Uh…"

She squinted her eyes at me in contemplation, "I guess I've been hanging out with Jordan a whole lot… I think she might be my best friend forever for lyfe now…"

I didn't know that, but had an inkling. I clapped my hands in congratulations and wished them a happy life together. Maybe they can adopt a dog that doesn't totally suck nuts and get into a civil union after living together in a two bedroom apartment for Tax Reasons.

"Har har har…" Stella flicked her balled up straw wrapper at me, hitting my nose, "Oh stop whining, it's paper. You're just jealous because Clyde has a girlfriend now and would rather make out with Chloe than you."

I told her that her name is Chloé, and that I actually enjoy having her in Clyde's life. Clyde has a tendency to get himself riled up about the stupidest things, I can never manage to snap him out of it, but Chloé can. This means that whenever Clyde and I ever hang out I don't have to spend half the time convincing him that all the microplastics in the food aren't going to kill him.

They are, according to Lisa, just not as fast as he thinks they will.

Stella placed her palms on the table and nodded, "You're right, you win. Chlo-AAAAYYY and Clyde are pretty good together. They're basically the 6th grade student council power couple, besides you and Jordan."

I reminded Stella that no matter what they print in the school paper that Jordan and I are not in a relationship together. But I quickly added an addendum that we are a "couple" in the sense that we are two people who are grouped together a lot. Usually by Jordan's doing. If I had it my way I'd probably be spending my free time playing video games and watching TV instead of overseeing the Buddy Program.

"Sure," Stella shifted in her seat, "but-and I know that this is gonna sound weird, why don't you just make it official with her?"

Because I am one hundred percent certain that her control freak parents would not be okay with her 12 year old daughter dating anyone.

Stella almost fell over in her chair, "WAIT! Seriously?! That's why? I thought it was because she's kinda obsessed with you!"

I mean, there is that, but romance makes people act a fool a lot of the times. I just don't want to get her hopes up only to have her get them crushed by her parents saying "no". She'd probably smother them in their sleep.

This isn't a secret or anything, it's just never come up in conversation before. I'm already kinda over my whole "not being mature enough to date" thing because I'm pretty sure nobody is mature anymore. Everyone just makes stuff up as they go.

Stella steadied herself, "You know, Lincoln. I think you should at least try."

Luckily the door opened before I had to pull another excuse out of my ass. It smells delicious, and I'm pretty sure I'm gonna need the energy to deal with a packed basement tonight. Nothing wracks up an appetite like lying through your teeth.

Short chapter, but I'm not too disappointed with myself. I'm always like "why the heck did I decide to set up this scene" and then I start writing it and figure out why. The purpose of this particular chapter is to set up something 10 chapters in the future about how Lincoln dislikes the hushpuppies at the Red Herring because they are ball hushpuppies and not the stick ones, Lance will get into a fistfight with him about it.

I haven't even set up Lance's character yet, either. Jesus, I need to get my things together.