Off Sides (Off #1)(3)

There's a moment of stunned silence and my eyes snap up to the waitress. This is the most interesting thing that's happened all night...Angeline getting her spite jammed back down her throat. The rest of the table bursts out in a fit of laughter at the waitress' cheekiness and I am sure that Angeline has to be fuming. But I don't look at her because when I look at our hash-slinging philosopher, my eyes go wide and I sharply inhale. She's stunning. No, unique. No... that's not it. Uniquely stunning...that's what she is.

She has dark blond hair that she wears up in a high ponytail. She's a natural blond. I can tell by the color of her eyebrows and I'm sure if I get her pants off, I can confirm that. The bottom four inches of her hair is dyed a pale, lavender color. She is sporting a silver ring through her left nostril and a small silver barbell through her right eyebrow. She's not wearing any makeup but she has that sort of natural beauty that should remain completely unadorned. Flawless complexion with the sexiest smattering of light freckles across her nose. Her eyes are a gorgeous hazel color that I bet get greener when she's angry or excited. Right now, they are swirling with mischief and she has full, pink lips that are smirking down at Angeline.

I don't know what it is about this girl, but f*ck, she's hot. And clearly smart as shit.

I've never been into girls that had facial piercings or dyed hair. The type of girls my parents expect me to date wear pearls and cashmere and have a pedigree a mile long behind their names. How does mother put it? "Your father is in the public eye so we must maintain proper appearances at all times."

My eyes rake down the waitress' body and I can get away with it because she's in a staring war with Angeline right now. She's wearing a Northeastern t-shirt and really short, shorts that showcase miles of tanned leg. She has on running shoes and sporting a little apron around her waist. Just above her right breast, which looks equally as luscious as her left, is a name tag that says, "Danny".

Miracle of all miracles, Angeline seems to have been struck dumb. Nothing is coming out of her mouth but there are daggers flying out of her eyes.

Tucking her pencil behind her ear, Danny puts her hand on her hip. "I tell you what...when you're ready to order, how about..." she pauses to look around the table and points right at Carter, "...you...just raise your hand when you’re ready to order and I'll come back over and help ya out. Okay?"

Without waiting for a reply, she shoots Carter a wink and turns her back on us. I can't help it but I start laughing out loud and Angeline swings her eyes at me in fury. I ignore her, still chuckling.

"Wait, Danny," I call out. She turns around and looks at me with surprise. I’m sure she didn’t think I would call her by her name. "We're ready to order. I think you've made an excellent philosophical argument."

Sauntering back to the table, Danny holds my gaze and I can see her appraising me. I don't flinch or look away, and I'm returning her gaze with equal intensity.

She walks right up to me, close enough I can smell her...and she smells like summer rain. "So, what will you have?"

She looks even better up close and I hope my tongue isn’t hanging out. I want to tell her I will have her, with a side of her, and for dessert...her. Instead, I order the Husky Special.

She winks at me. "Sure thing, stud."

I hear Mike snort over that but I don't care.

She goes around the table and gets everyone's order. After her smack down of Angeline, everyone is appropriately subdued and polite. I don't think anyone wants to go head to head with this girl.

I watch her closely. Even though she was basically just called an ignoramus a few minutes ago, she seems confident and self-assured. She smiles at each of us when she takes our order, even Angeline, who is noticeably acquiescent when she orders a fruit cup and a glass of ice water. I'm impressed and find myself very curious about this girl.

Why is someone so smart working in a diner? And what possesses someone to dye their hair purple or pierce their nose? I don't get it but I find myself wanting to know.

After Danny puts our order in, conversation resumes although we're discussing hockey now instead of philosophy. I think we're starting to sober up. Mike, Carter and I discuss our season opener against Boston College. While we are talking, I watch as Danny moves around, talking to customers. She laughs a lot and has a killer smile with a dimple in each cheek. I also notice she has a killer ass but hey, I'm a guy.

Apparently I'm not as covert as I think I am because Carter leans over and whispers to me, "She's pretty hot, huh? You thinkin' about hitting that?"

I laugh him off. "Nah, man. She's not my type."

"Well, with that body she's more than my type. I wonder if she's got any piercings we can't see."

I can't say I didn't think the same thing. Still, there really is no way I am going to find out. I can tell by looking at her she is not the type of girl that does one-night stands. Oh, she may think she's tough with her dyed hair and piercings, but looking at her you can tell she's more angel than devil. Too bad for me. And for her, too.

And a one-night stand would be the only way I could find out the answers to my questions. She definitely is not dating material because my parents would have a fit if I showed up in the media with her on my arm. This thought is disappointing to me. It's been a really long time since someone has interested me like this and now I'm all pissed off that I have to live my life by my parents' standards.