It wasn't long before she'd managed to explore the area, find a hotel to stay at, replace her now gone forever clothes aboard the ship, rent a car, and find a diner to eat at. Emma felt it was as successful a day as she could have hoped for, and she didn't mind giving herself a congratulatory pat on the back for all her hard work. And while she had mentally done that, she found herself staring over the dessert menu at the aforementioned diner, thinking her reward would be dessert first. She was contemplating something with chocolate, maybe a cream pie, there were a few of those, one looked like it was an almond joy whipped up into a mound of goodness (and all the calories that came with it). Yeah, that one sounded good, start with that one, and then figure it out from there, maybe that fried chicken dinner she'd seen pass her by a few minutes ago, it had certainly smelled heavenly as the redheaded waitress passed by, carrying a large overly loaded tray of chicken and potatoes and green beans, all precariously balanced on one strong arm, elbow digging into her side.
Emma subconsciously licked her lips, thinking about the taste that would have to match the smell of that amazingly greasy goodness, small moan escaping her as she thought about that feeling of biting into a nice juicy, tender, breast.
"Have you decided what you'd like to order?" An overly cheery voice pulled her out of her thoughts with a start. She hadn't noticed that waitress had walked up to her table, and was crouched down in front of her in that overly friendly way. Emma couldn't help but wince in embarrassment over being caught. Scratch that, change of plans, she thought.
"Uh, I'd like the fried chicken please," she stammered out, a little quieter than she'd intended, the waitress straining forward to hear what it was she said. The smile evident on her face.
"Don't worry a lot of people think that about our chicken," she winked and stood up, turning on her heel, a seductive wave of red disappeared behind the counter, leaving Emma sitting there, at the table, turning a brilliant shade of pink. She quickly busied herself in her phone.
Oh shit, I think the waitress is flirting with me, IDK what to do! She'd quickly typed out, not even noticing that she was sending it to Regina until after she'd hit the send button.
Well, is she attractive? Was the response that came only moments later, causing Emma to freeze mid panic attack. She'd meant to text Ruby for some help, but Regina apparently, would have to fit the bill for that right now. Ruby had always been her wingman, and currently knew about the straight woman situation, but maybe she could manage to get some insight from Regina, a bit of counter-intelligence to see what the best way to win the woman would be, if you know, anything were to happen to her husband later.
Yeah, I guess she is, she's not really my type, but she isn't ugly either.
And what, exactly, is your type?
Oh you know, Emma found herself trying to suppress a giggle at this one as she had a devilishly good idea come to light, short, brunette, Latina and with a pension for power skirts and straining top buttons. She hadn't been able to resist describing the brunette. Hopefully, though, she would take it as the joke that it was, or at least had been played off as being.
Hmm, I see, I would hazard a guess that that does not exactly describe your waitress at the current moment.
Hardly, she's tall, a redhead, and seems to favor short shorts and t-shirts. She's a little too much of a sorority girl for my taste (though it's quite flattering, but I like them old enough to drink).
Well, I would take it as a complement. It's your choice to act on it or not. Besides, I haven't heard you talk of having anyone special so, you never know what could happen. Maybe you're just limiting yourself by sticking to a type.
Emma let out a small, sad sigh, it seemed Regina had chosen to gloss over the description given earlier. That, or, there was a minute possibility, that she didn't figure out the description was of her, and that may have been for the best if Emma were to be completely honest. Regina had after all, said she was completely straight, but that was before a kiss. Granted, it was a kiss that in all likelihood, meant nothing to Regina, despite it meaning the world to Emma.
She shook off the feeling of doom and gloom that was starting to befall her and was determined to turn on the Swan charm. She'd heard stories of her dad having been a real life prince charming in his youth. Her dad had loved telling her of his younger days before his death. Her favorite was of how he'd met her mom, granted he'd spiced it up a bit, telling of knights in shining armor, of bandits, of a fair princess who was to be wed to a man she didn't love.
He'd stormed in, sword drawn at the last minute, determined to save her, whisking her off on his white horse, he'd fought valiantly and emerged victorious. They'd never talked much before that moment of course, her mother was rather studious and withdrawn, her father from the rival high school. He'd seen her passing by as he left football practice and she'd been arriving at the school for a debate tournament. They were polar opposites, but as he told the story, Emma always knew this had to be true love.
She'd watched him, growing up, copied his every move, opening the door, pulling out chairs, smiling appreciatively, and most importantly, taking an interest in the other. He had taught her well in the short time she'd been able to appreciate him as her father and role model. Emma was pulled from her thoughts by a steaming plate piled high with chicken was placed in front of her. She could practically see the flavor radiating off of it, the steam wafting away as the grease sizzled on the breading, fried to a crispy golden brown. A mountain of mashed potatoes next to it, the gravy spilling down, thick and creamy waves rolling down, spreading into the chicken, mixing slightly with the drippings, Emma's mouth watered uncontrollably at the sight. Combined with the admittedly attractive redhead, Emma scanned her shirt for the nametag (and no other reason she told herself), finding it read Anna in an overly curly script, she couldn't help but think she'd definitely be one to dot her I's with a heart, she tried to offer her a smile, but feared it may have come off wrong.
Okay, maybe flirting wasn't Emma's strong point, but she still was a charmer, but that was when she actually wanted someone, or knew them, she wasn't good at trying to read people, especially with no information to actually go on. Maybe she could pull off the young, read newly discovered, lesbian without too many problems this time. A few awkward looks, shy smiles, and a wave or two should do the trick. She'd hope that this waitress who she'd had yet to speak successfully to was more of a 'go-getter' and would take the lead, Emma would just go along for the ride this time.
Sure enough, it worked, by the end of the meal, she had yet to really say anything to the- Anna, she had to make sure to get it right, Anna, but she had managed to get a phone number, along with a 'call me' written on her receipt. And her phone had buzzed with a text from Regina, So, did you get her number or did you chicken out?
Emma couldn't help but let out an indignant scoff and texted back For your information, I did in fact get her number. Btw, I don't chicken out.
Mhm, sure you don't. That's why you're picking up women who aren't your type at random restaurants instead of pursuing your very specific type. Which really, a straining top button? What are you, a teenager?
Emma couldn't help but play along with the insinuation, Why yes, I believe I am, and all teenagers have a thing for strict adults who dress provocatively.
Are you attempting to tell me I was never a teenager because I believe I was, and I never had a thing for any adult in revealing clothes.
Well, you definitely weren't a normal one if you were, because everyone I know had a thing for our English teacher, she had an accent and her clothes were at least one size too tight, not to mention she was barely older than us anyways.
Is this how you're going to impress me? By ranting on about some high school crush you had?
Who said I was trying to impress you?
I had thought that's what you were trying to do with your crude attempt at saying someone else had some attraction to you and describing me as your 'type'. I admit it would work on some women, desiring a highly prized mate, but I am straight, and married sorry to say, your attempts will not work.
Emma felt her jaw drop and a red blush creep across her face, Regina had read her attempts quite skillfully, however, she was wrong about the jealousy attempt (not that Emma wouldn't have tried anything like that anyways), and she had only one reaction, she took a picture of the receipt and sent it to Regina.
Nice try, but wrong.
So there was a waitress after all? Oh, and I have to ask, you aren't stalking me are you?
Yes there was, and what do you mean stalking you? I told you, it was an accident I ended up in Houston but, I'm in Tucson now.
Yes, I am aware of how a receipt is read, and that is what I'm commenting on.