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Arrick has boyish, cute sort of gorgeousness; always clean shaven. He’s still manly and would still be called handsome, but there is a softness to his face that I always preferred. Square-jawed with man brows and a steely glare when he wants it, but something sweet, almost a gentleness when he’s relaxed. Eternally young.

“Food fit for a queen.” He laughs jokingly, dishing out my fries and burger and hands me my banana shake. Everything I always order.

McDonald’s used to be a place we hung out on a Saturday morning for our junk food fix and for something to do. My mom would have had a fit if she knew how many times Arrick drove me to burger joints and ‘unhealthy’ eating places to pig out, but that was the nature of being kids. We didn’t care if it was bad for us; we just liked it and we had no