Betty
I wanted to scream in Tony’s face, tell him he was a horrible person, that this, right here is why he is so single and miserable.
Instead, I directed my frustration and annoyance at the medium steak, stabbing it with my fork over and over, as if it personally offended me or it was the one who sent that disgusting message earlier. I watched in disgust as pink juices spilled onto the plate. Ew! How do people even eat this?
It still looked alive like it barely escaped the butcher's table, it was practically mooing. Just staring at it alone made my belly churn. But Tony wouldn't know this because he didn't care, he had ordered for both of us without asking me what I wanted or if I was allergic. And now I just sat quietly across from a man I couldn’t stand with food I couldn’t dare to
