Chapter 8

It was a fifteen-minute drive to American Roadhouse, and Julius was able to find a spot to park in the back, though the lot was almost full.

His hand at my back, Julius escorted me to the front door of the restaurant and opened it, ushering me inside. We were seated by the window facing Highland Avenue, so we could watch foot and car traffic. A waitress took our order for coffee and told us she would be back in a few minutes.

I could feel eyes on me as I looked at the menu. When I glanced up, Julius smiled. “What?” I asked.

He said, “I was just thinking about how you work all the time and go to school. I just…I know I couldn’t do it. I know my limitations, and I’m spoiled rotten. It just floors me, man. You have my utmost respect.”

I didn’t know how to respond to such frank praise. I kept my head down, staring at the menu but not really seeing it.