Wesley wrung his hands nervously as he stood next to the waiters' podium waiting for Anya. Of course, he was ten minutes early.

'What if she not coming?' he thought. 'What if this was all a big joke?'

All of a sudden, someone lightly touched his shoulder, "Wesley?" Anya asked.

Between how gorgeous she looked and the fact that she had just touched him, Wesley almost fainted right then and there.

"How many?" a handsome waiter asked Anya, completely ignoring Wesley.

"Two," Wesley said, quickly grabbing Anya's hand.

"Okay, follow me." He said with a frown as he glanced at the two's hands.

Once the waiter turned around, Wesley quickly let go of her hand, blushing.

"It's okay," Anya coaxed. She didn't mind his sweaty hand. She actually found it cute that he was so nervous around her.

Wesley blushed again, but didn't hold her hand.

"I'm Mark, I'll be your sever tonight," the guy mumbled once they were seated.

And as he walked away the two sat in silence. Wesley wasn't sure what to do; he couldn't bring himself to meet eyes with Anya. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't tear his eyes away from his hands that lay in his lap.

Anya noticed this and, trying to help, started conversation.

"So Wesley, do you have a lot of friends? You seem really nice and charismatic."

"Not really." He replied, finally glancing at her from under his glasses. Anya instantly felt bad and frowned. She would have never asked if she knew what Wesley's answer would be.

"Don't be sad!" he assured her. "Dave and Connor are good friends! Well sometimes..." He trailed off. "But what I'm saying is, I would rather have a couple of really good, close friends than a bunch of fake friends who don't treat me well. What about you and your friends?"

Suddenly Mark came back and took their order, the two teens stopping their conversation, but once he left they continued.

"Me? I have a bunch of friends, mostly from the power squad. But sometimes I wonder if they are true friends, you know? Whether they make fun of me behind my back or whether they are just using me."

"Don't say that!" Wesley practically shouted, earning a few stares from neighboring tables. "You're an amazing girl, Anya. You probably have plenty of good friends."

"Thanks Wes, but it's happened before. I used to be friends with Holly J and –,"

"You were friend with the Holly J Sinclair?"

"Yes, the Holly J Sinclair." Anya laughed. "And she treated me like dirt. She claimed we were best friend but yet she would say these awful things to me without any hesitation. So one day, I finally stood up for myself and have never talked to her again. I tried to be friends with her again at the beginning of this year, but I didn't work out. I have to admit she's gotten better."

"She used to be worse?" Wesley cringed.

"Sadly," She smirked. "Anyway—,"

Just then, Anya's phone rang. "Excuse me," she said with a smile, and walked outside.

Wesley put his head in his hands and let out a large sigh. That was probably the longest conversation he had ever had with a girl. And he hadn't screwed up!

"Hey man!" someone said, clamping their hand on Wesley's shoulder, causing him to jump.

He spun around and his eyes widened, "Dave! Connor! What are you doing here!"

"Dave made us hide in the bathroom…," Connor complained.

"But why are you here?"

"To spy on you and Anya," Dave smiled. "And lemme tell you, it looks like its going good."

"Jeez guys. You really had to do that? She could come back any minute and see that you're here! Leave!"

"Ok," Dave shrugged, grabbing Connor by the shirt and heading in the direction of the bathroom. "Oh, and by the way, don't eat your food. I think that waiter Mark spat in yours."