“Do you mind if we head to White Plains?” he asked. “There’s a Mexican restaurant there I’d like to try if that works for you.”
“Sure,” Ru shrugged. White Plains was only about twenty minutes away and it beat trying one of the local restaurants where they might be interrupted by students—or their parents—who would likely want to know what they were doing there together.
“So, you’ve lived here your whole live, except for college?” Cutter asked as they headed out of town.
“Yes,” Ru replied, looking out of the window. There were quite a few cars on the roads, likely other people headed to restaurants or other points of interest on a Saturday night.
“And where did you go to school?”
“The University at Buffalo.”
“I always thought that was a strange name,” Cutter said, glancing at her quic
