“Okay, whatever.” He laughed again. “I’ll take a shower while you get your fries.” He bent to get his clothes. “I’d put my clothes on first if I were you, though, so as not to shock the resort staff.”
* * * *
When he came out from the bathroom, the scent of fried potatoes immediately hit him. Tim sat in one of the two chairs at the round table. He was dipping a fry into what appeared to be ranch dressing. To his surprise, Brandon’s stomach growled.
“Let me have one of those,” he said as he walked over and sat in the other chair. He reached for one.
Tim smiled. “That was better, wasn’t it?”
He took a bite and pretended to be considering the question. “It was acceptable.”
“Only acceptable?”
He smiled. “Okay, it was pretty good.”
Tim snorted. “You’re a really tough critic.” He twisted a plastic cap off a water bottle and took a large swallow. “How old are you, Brandon?”
“Same age as you,” Brandon said, not meeting his eyes.
“Hmm. And when did you come to Lincoln Hill?”