Michael pulled his cigarette out of his mouth and turned to his friend. "Hey, Henrietta wants to know what we're doing tomorrow. Are we doing anything?"

Pete shrugged. "Probably the same old same old. Drinking coffee while observing the messed up world. Maybe with a little band practice thrown in for the hell of it." He blew a smoke ring. "Invite Mercedes if we have band practice."

"I don't have her number."

"Then get her number when she finishes work," the redhead stated. "She'll probably give you her number before you even ask for it. It's a little obvious that she has a crush on you."

He nodded in agreement as he sent Henrietta a response to her question. "I never said that it wasn't obvious."

"Also when Mercedes gets off don't be on your phone so much," Pete suggested as he stared at Michael's phone screen, which showed all the messaging he was doing with Henrietta. "Actually talk to Mercedes. Maybe even flirt a little."

Michael put his cigarette back in his mouth. "I don't flirt."

"None of us do," his friend agreed. "Just don't be texting Henrietta when Mercedes gets off. That annoys girls or something."

"Okay." His phone informed him that he received another message from Henrietta. He opened it. "Henrietta wants to know what we're doing right now."

"We're smoking in a parking lot. Why is so important for her to know, anyway? I really hate it when her female side kicks in and wants to be a mother and keep tabs on all of us."

He typed into his phone and hit send. "I left out the part about it being the Hooters parking lot. And the part about us waiting for Mercedes."

Pete blew another smoke ring. "That's probably smart. I really don't want to deal with Henrietta's female side tonight."

"She'll probably have a few words to say to us about going to Hooters." Michael groaned. "Introducing her to Mercedes is going to be a real picnic."

"Yeah, no kidding. Lucky for you I promised to be the one to deal with that." His friend stood up from his spot on the curve. "Well, I'm going to walk home."

"You're not going to wait for Mercedes with me?"

"I want to get home before my dad does. Also you're the one that promised to make it up to Mercedes."

"You're abandoning me."

"It'll probably be better if I'm gone anyway. She has the crush on you not me. You got to make her feel like you're the one that really cares about her."

"You're still abandoning me."

"Don't sound so dramatic," Pete said. "Remember to get her number. Also don't text Henrietta when you're with her. You got to lead her on a little if you want to milk her crush on you."

"I still don't like this. It makes me feel like a prostitute."

"Well, sharing a bed with Mike made me feel like a prostitute. You have it easy."

"You're never going to let that go are you?"

"Nope. Remember not to text Henrietta. Don't mess this up," Pete called out as he walked away.

"Bye." Michael waved and sat down to wait for Mercedes.

"Sorry, for making you wait so long," Mercedes said once she spotted Michael in the parking lot. "When you and Pete went outside to smoke we got a ton of really perverted customers. Like really perverted. Speaking of Pete-" she cut herself off for a second and laughed. "Woah, I didn't mean to imply that your friend is a perv. Did it sound like I implied that? My sentences just didn't line up right when they left my mouth. Ugh, yeah, so like did Pete leave?"

"He got bored around seven and decided to go home." Michael smiled. "So, what about those perverted customers you had today?"

"Its not just today. About every other day, a guy will come in here and ask me how much I'll charge him for touching my boobs, if it'll cost less to touch them over my shirt as opposed to under my shirt, if its against the law to grope my boobs, or if they can see my boobs. Woah, I just said 'boobs' a lot. I'm pretty sure that these questions are slowly killing me."

Michael stared at her unsure of what to say to that. His phone buzzed in his pocket informing him that he had a text from most likely Henrietta. He didn't open it on Pete's request.

The Hooters girl gave an awkward laugh after an awkward beat of silence. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make this conversation all about my boobs. We can talk about somebody else's boobs if you want. Or not about boobs. Not talking about boobs would be nice. And I'm being weird again."

"Sure, let's not talk about boobs." The goth paused. "So…. What exactly does that leave us to talk about?"

"Anything really. Just please not work related. My boss isn't the nicest. And the customers, not you and… well… I don't think Pete likes me too much." She pushed her hair out of her face. "I probably freaked him out or something. That's probably why he went home. Did I scare him off? I would feel really bad if I did."

"Nah, little scares us. Pete just wanted to get home before his parents got home." He gave an awkward smile. "Also making it up to you was my idea. Pete and I really…" he paused and remembered what Pete told him. "Well mainly me, feel really bad that your boss yelled at you on our behalf."

"They poured the rest of the coffee down the sink. It's so wasteful." She played with her hair again. "And you shouldn't feel like you need to make anything up to me. I feel really bad that you felt obligated to wait for a long freaking time in the parking lot by yourself for me. You had to get weird stares from people. People are so judgmental to anybody sitting by themself. You didn't get any weird stares did you?"

"It really wasn't that long of a wait," He shrugged. "Also I really don't care what people think about me."

"Duh." She hit herself in the head. "I'm such a failure of a fan. One of your songs is about that. It goes like, 'people are staring and I'm still not caring'" she sung. "Yeah, I know I can't sing for shit."

"You're not too bad."

"You're just saying that to be nice. I'm positive that if I were to try out for American Idol my audition would be televised for all the wrong reasons. You know? The whole ratings crap where they air bad singers for people to laugh at. I would totally be one of those people if I auditioned. That's why I don't plan on ever auditioning for any singing TV shows. You on the other hand should totally try out for everything."

"I don't plan on trying out for anything anytime soon." He gave a weak grin. "And you're really not that bad of a singer. Believe me I've heard way worse."

She played with her hair again. It sort of made him think that she was looking for a lost piece of gum. "You just haven't heard me singing in my car. Lexus, she works at Hooters with me-"

"The hostess?"

"Yeah, her. She often rides with me to work. Anywho, she often decides to get out of the car walk to Hooters when we get close enough to the building for 'exercise'," she made air quotations. "I'm pretty sure its really because she gets annoyed of me singing in the car."

"I doubt that."

"You're just saying that. She's even asked a few times if we can listen to public radio on the way. Public radio!"

He laughed which felt a little weird for him. "Then I guess you are a really bad singer. Or your friend is just really into listening to politics around the world. I don't think you're as bad as you think. So, your friend is probably just really into politics."

"I'm sure it's the I'm the bad singer option." She looked around the now nearly empty parking lot. "Woah, dude. Have we really just been standing here talking? I'm not saying that I'm not enjoying our conversation. I'm just wondering how you're going to get home. Not to be noisy or anything. I just don't see any other car out here except mine. How did you get here?"

"I walked."

"All the way here? I mean I don't know where you live or anything. That would make me a total stalker. And I'm already freaky enough as is. It's just that Hooters is located somewhat far from most of the neighborhoods. Unless you don't live in most of the neighborhoods. But, I wouldn't know that. 'Cause I ensure you I'm not a stalker. And I'm rambling again. Being awkward is fun."

"I live in one of those neighborhoods that's part of your 'most of the neighborhoods' label." He shrugged. "And I'm kind of used to walking everywhere. I don't have a car. Never cared to get one. I just bum rides from Henrietta along with the rest of the guys whenever needed or whatever."

"Want me to drive you home? You'll be able to witness my terrible singing voice. Believe me, my singing is so bad…" she paused and giggled. "How bad is it?" she said using an squeakier voice. "That you'll never try to convince me that I sing good," she said her normal voice.

He stared at her without saying anything. There was no question that this girl was extremely awkward.

"Yeah, I know I'm not funny. Sorry, my awkwardness scares myself sometimes. I'll try to suppress my stupid. Anyway, would you like me to drive you home?"

"If its no trouble for you." He shrugged his shoulders. "I really don't mind walking by myself."

"Would you find me awkward… Well, I'm positive that you already find me super awkward. Would you feel weird if we listened to your music on the way to your house?" She ran a hand through her hair. "I mean it's your choice of whatever you want to listen to on the way. It could even be public radio if you want. I would love to listen to your songs. Since I love your singing voice. But, that might be a little weird for you."

"I really don't care what we listen to," he stated as they began walking to her car.

"You sure?" she asked hitting her keys. "Listening to myself sing would give me a huge ego. Well, if I could sing as good as you that is. Whenever I listen to myself sing on recording I want to crawl in a hole and die. Hell, even listening to my regular speaking voice makes me want to crawl in a hole and die."

He opened the passenger side door. "I doubt you're as bad as you think. And if you're afraid of me feeling weird we can listen to something else."

She sat down on the driver's side. "Okay. But, my taste of music might alarm you. It appears to alarm all my coworkers."

"I'm rarely alarmed." He closed his side door.

She started her car and "Smells Like Teen Spirit" stared playing. The original version by Nirvana too. That didn't alarm Michael since most people know that song. Hell, Justin Timerlake and Jay-Z used parts of that song for that awful, in his opinion, song dumbly called "Holy Grail".

She sung along to a few verses of "Hello, hello, hello, how low?" from the song before saying, "Sorry, I know my voice is awful. I just really like this song. Anyway, the GPS is on your side of the car."

With that as a warning she leaned over him to open the glove compartment to grab the GPS. He tried his best not to touch her as she retrieved the GPS.

"Okay, so address time. Where do you live?" She asked once she was back on the driver's side of the car.

"I could have just told you how to get there without the GPS."

"I know." Mercedes gave an awkward laugh. "But trust me, we'll need the GPS too. I'm capable of getting lost anywhere. Its like a horrible super power of mine."

"That's a nice way to describe a curse."

"So, address?"

He gave her address and they began on their way to his house. She proved to him that she couldn't sing and he continued to ensure her that she wasn't that bad. Her playlist, that didn't contain any of his band's music, didn't really alarm him. That is until "Prude 12 21" followed by "Miss Murder" by AFI played.

Michael turned to her in surprise. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"What?" she asked as she almost hit the break of the car.

"AFI-"

"Yeah, I found them on YouTube a few days ago. 'Miss Murder' was suggested for me so I watched the music video… I know they're probably not your thing-"

"Are you fucking kidding me? How could you think that I wouldn't like them?"

She shrugged. "You just seemed so surprised. I don't know. I'm sorry."

He somewhat laughed. "It really took me by surprise. You had Nirvana, Paramore, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, and Billy Joel-"

"Sorry, I'm a sucker for 'Piano Man'."

"All artists who have played on the South Park annoying radio station at one point. And then AFI comes on an artist that has not played on that station. It just surprised me."

Mercedes pulled into his driveway. "I told ya that my coworkers found my playlist alarming." She stopped the car.

"That's true you did." he turned to look at his driveway and saw his father waiting in the doorway of his house. "Oh… shit."

"What's wrong?"

He opened his passenger door. "Not sure yet. But, that's my dad."

"Oh my. I'm sorry if I did anything that could have got you in trouble."

"You didn't."

"Should I leave?"

He shrugged and left the car. "I don't control what you do."

"I'll go in with you," she said as he closed his side of the door. "I did some pageants as a kid. The experience might help somehow."

He had a bad feeling that this wasn't going to end well for him, but he did notice his dad smile a little when he saw Mercedes step out of the car.

A/N

You know what's hard? Typing when your eyes are dilated. Stupid eye doctor appointment.

As always please point out any grammar mistakes. I like to fix those.