Vanilla Milkshake

Our assignment was to write a few paragraphs or the intro to a short story based on some dialogue we overheard. The dialogue that I picked up on was rather simple, but definitely could have been turned into a dirty joke if no one knew the context of the conversation: studying. So, here's the few paragraphs. I'm downright awful with dialogue. I've got to work on that. And I wonder why "dialogue" isn't in my computer's dictionary. It keeps telling me I've spelled it wrong.

Vanilla Milkshake

“Girls that have guys line up for them, and are completely oblivious to it, must have something wrong with them,” I complain to Zahara, who is seated on the bar stool next to mine. I can’t help but think this every time I’m in line at the Bank of America or in the Starbucks drive through. I guess you could say I’m impatient. Whenever I’m left waiting—for anything—I’ll find myself thrumming my fingertips on the closest available surface (right now, the side of my chilled mug of Blue Moon) or absentmindedly picking at the chipping pink polish on my fingernails. It comes naturally, I guess—my impatience. I’m impatient with stutterers and slow drivers; I’m impatient with people who can’t articulate, and boys who line up, and girls who are oblivious.

Like, the other night at dinner. It was me and Zahara and Zahara’s friend Beth. We went out to this new, quirky little corner café with rainbow Christmas lights hanging low from the ceiling and an all-Vegetarian menu (a magnet for deck hipsters) that we’d all been dying to try.

So, we sit down, and we’re about to order when, out of nowhere, Beth says, “Oh, I almost forgot, I invited Rob to dinner.” I don’t know Beth that well, but I know that guys line up for her like the apostles lined up for Jesus (she’s always got some new Matthew, Mark, Luke or John doting on her hand and foot).

Right about then, Rob rolls up in his black pea coat and his maroon corduroys and an expression on his face like he’s a Litebrite or something and Beth just shoved a ton of pegs into him and flicked his switch on. Seriously, this guy is fucking glowing.

So, Rob sits down diagonally from Beth, and you know what the first thing he says is? He says, “Was it better in the library or in the room? In the room, right?” He waits for a cue from Beth, a vigorous nod of her head and a toothy grin, before he continues, “Yeah, I thought so too!”

And now all I can think is, “What the fuck?” I’m trying to fight it, but I can tell that my eyes are shooting daggers at Zahara and she’s trying to keep her panicked expression under control by shrugging it off. But, seriously, all I can think about is how my jealousy is wringing my heart out like a wet sponge and shoving paper towels into my lungs to soak up all the oxygen and how I need to just keep breathing and smiling and keeping my cool or else, I swear to God, I’m going to kill Beth right now.

About then, I shove the straw of my vanilla shake into my mouth, take a quick, heated glance between Rob and Beth, and suck the freezing liquid down my throat.