A part of her has to wonder if she’s taking advantage of the woman’s advantage. She’s hammered, sure, but she certainly was more willing to respond to her offer of food than anything else. She was hungry, after all, consistently so, and the fact that she’d been drinking had made that hunger far worse than she was used to. Ever was still limiting the things she ate in order to keep her money flowing. “I don’t know that there’s anything supreme about this,” she said scooping up salsa with the tip of the quesadilla and taking a big bite. “But holy shit. It’s beautiful. Is that possible? For food to be beautiful? I would marry this plate.”
@harperwinston
“It is beautiful. But this isn’t a plate you marry.” Harper said through a massive bite of Cheesy Gordita Crunch. “This is a plate you have a crush on in high school, have wild and honestly somewhat awkward sex with in college, and then goggle in the middle of the night to make yourself feel better about where you are now. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
She looked around the nearly empty restaurant. It had been a beautiful beacon on the turnpike, lit from within, the massive purple bell winking in the dark. The seats were cold and the tables probably needed to be cleaned, but when the girl asked for a crunch wrap, Harper didn’t need to be told twice. “Once you’ve finished your Baja Blast I would be very grateful to have this Supreme thing explained to me.” She took another massive bite. “If it’s not too personal, I mean.”













