Page 46 of Good Directions

Until I see the large billboard sign greeting us as we walk out of the parking lot.

“Welcome to the Dine and Dash Depot,” he whispers, leaning into me. “Middle Georgia’s largest, and finest, food truck park.”

“Food trucks…”

“Yup. Wasn’t sure what you did or didn’t eat, so…I figured we had a decent shot at finding something here. That, and in Hickory Hills our choices would have been, well…pizza.”

“Hickory Hills has more than just pizza, doesn’t it?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “We have Dolly’s, but she closes at two. Then there’s Little Slice of Heaven, the pizza place, and Kountry Kitchen, and well, I don’t hate anyone enough to let them eat there.”

Oh. Well, noted.

“Right, well…” I look around, taking in more than a dozen food trucks, overwhelmed with all the choices. Every last one of them seems popular, with lines of various lengths formed in front of them. “Anything you recommend?”

“Let’s see who’s here…” Anton scans the lines, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes as he thinks. “And Cheese is really good—they do different kinds of grilled cheese and mac and cheese. Lord of the Fries has just about every kind of deep fried everything you can think of. The Ragin Cajun is decent, but if you like Cajun food, Margeaux’s is better. All Up In My Grill makes a damn good burger. Gato’s Tacos is pretty good. But, if you’re willing to be a little adventurous, then Foreign Policy is Asian fusion, and makes the best Korean fries.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of Korean fries.”

“Fries smothered in Bulgogi, cheese, onions, cilantro, and spicy mayo.”

My stomach growls as Anton lists the ingredients, immediately raising its hand and casting its vote.

“That, definitely.”

“I knew I liked you, Sawyer Brown.”

Two massive orders of Korean fries later, we’re sitting on the flatbed of Anton’s truck, chowing down. Quiet surrounds us, nothing but muted sounds of voices far off in the food truck park, mixed in with the occasional car that drives down the road as our soundtrack. The wild mix of flavors bursts on my tongue with every bite, but it’s still not enough to fully steal my attention from Mr. Too good-looking for his own good to my left. Because even sitting like this—calm, still, with no agenda but having a meal—has every bit of me on high alert.

“So, whatcha wanna do next on our date?” he asks, one side of his mouth turning upward into a smirk as he pops a fry into his mouth.

A mouth I can’t stop staring at.

“Err…isn’t this it?”

“The first part.”

“We could not, and say we did.”

“Yeah, that’s not how this is gonna work, Sawyer.”

A zing rips up my spine. Something about the way he says my name—slow, steady, and deep, like it’s a piece of the finest chocolate—makes me want him to say it over and over again.

“What about karaoke?” he suggests. “We can head back to the Giddy Up.”

“No, absolutely not.” I respond faster than I can think, my tone sharp. Sharper than it should be.

“Why not? You said that’s your thing.”

Anton’s brow pulls together, two little lines forming. He looks so sincere, making me want to lower my walls. Or at least create a door to let him inside.

“Exactly, it’s my thing. Something I’ve done alone.”

“Okay…”

I sigh, closing up the Styrofoam box with my food and setting it behind me on the truck bed. Buying myself some time, I take a big swig of my water, then I turn toward Anton, as I pull one leg up onto the tailgate.

“My best friend’s family owns a karaoke bar back home in Alabama. Wall Bangers.”