I stare at the large signs above the cash registers, studying every word. You’d think I’d try to do so in a quicker manner as the line is getting shorter and shorter, but I’m freaking out and getting stuck on each number. Feeling heat creep over my face, a heat which I blame on the bulbs bordering the overly in-your-face menus, I nervously pick the pocket lint out of my jean pockets. I decide on a hot dog with fries. I really want a hamburger, but asking for a hamburger would lead to questions about what should be on it or how it should be cooked and that’s too much to handle right now. A hot dog and fries. I constantly repeat the words over and over in my brain, memorizing my order and how I will say it perfectly. That’ll cost $4.99. Upon checking my wallet, I notice a twenty dollar bill and a single. Internally I’m screaming, but on the outside I’m pretending everything is fine by looking around the room. I’m thinking of how I could possibly get a smaller bill before getting up to the register. Making the cashier deal with such a large bill and the change feels unnecessary. Why does this have to be so hard for me? I wish I was like Mason. He’s so calm right now. He’s just staring ahead blankly. After looking around the room, I look back down to my wallet and pretend I’m just now noticing my large bill. It feels like I’m in some Disney Channel comedy. I’m the klutzy teenage brunette and he’s the best friend-turned-love interest. This isn’t a movie though, so it probably won’t be ending in triumphant music and a long-awaited kiss.
“Oh…damn. Hey, Mason, do you think you could give me change for this twenty? I don’t wanna make them deal with the change.” A nervous laugh escapes me. I have perfected the fake, partial laugh. It lightens the mood by making it like I’m laughing at the stupid, awkward things I do, so others feel like they have permission to as well.
He looks at me and smiles. He’s usually very understanding of these things. 
“I’ll see if I have change.” As he looks through his wallet, I watch his face. Yes, that sounds creepy when acknowledged, but I’d like to believe everyone does it. His soft looking, black hair slightly brushes against his forehead.  His eyes are extremely dark, to the point where you can’t actually make out his pupils. The intense light from the bulbs on the menu which I had internally insulted earlier reflects off of his eyes. The image of him looking at me instead of the wallet pops into my mind. Thanks, brain. Then, he does just that and I feel the heat of the bulbs again.
“I don’t have change for a twenty but here, just have this.”
He hands me a five dollar bill. I become all too nervous when going to grab it, in fear I may drop it or accidently swipe it away too quickly. My hand reaches so as to avoid his, but it grazes his as I grab the money.  I hope he doesn’t think much of the awkward touch. He returns to facing the registers.
“Thanks, I’ll pay you back later. I promise.”
“No need to. Really.”
As he stares ahead, I make a face, as if to tell him “I’m paying you back whether you like it or not, buddy.” He smirks as if to say, “I see your face and I hear you, but I’m going to pretend I didn’t so we end this in a draw.”
When we finally get up to the cashier, I’ve forgotten the words I had recited in my head so many times. Of course the cashier is a woman my age, just to make things even more terrifying.
“I’ll have a hot dog.” Crap. You idiot, you forgot the damn fries. Forget it. I just won’t have fries. She looks at me expectantly. Did I forget something? I don’t think I – 
“Would you like anything to drink with that?”
My face feels like it has been dunked in hot water.
“Y-yes, um, a Coke please.” Then I notice they need a size rather than a type of drink. Everyone’s eyes are on me, or at least it feels that way.
“What size?” The woman seems to be extremely apathetic to the situation as a whole.
Ah! What are the sizes again? Is medium too large or is small too small? Medium has to be pretty average sized if it’s medium. I’ll just get medium.
“Medium sized please.” My ears are burning as a cup is handed to me. At least it’s a normal size.
“That will be seven dollars.”
I flip through my money and hand her the twenty. Taking away the fries and adding a drink changed the cost I had originally expected. My heart is trying to leave this train wreck by pounding its way out of my chest. The cashier rolls her eyes slightly, and I feel my world crashing down. Mason is staring at me but I’m too mortified to look back. The entire time, I try to maintain a calm outer appearance. I roll up the sleeves of my flannel, trying not to accidently bump into the people waiting behind us. I fix my hair, and the cashier finally gives me my money.
Mason is going to hate me. He’s going to think I’m a freak. He’s been understanding in the past, but this time is terrible.  When it’s his turn to order his food, he speaks up confidently, taking his money out without a twitch. He makes eye contact with the cashier, and his friendly smile evokes a similar smile from her. We head to a table and sit as we wait for our numbers to be called.
“That was horrible,” I say, hoping he won’t think I’m as weird if I acknowledge my flaws.
“What are you talking about? What happened?” He makes eye contact with me and I begin picking pocket lint again.
“Didn’t you see me hand her the twenty? Oh and by the way, here.” I put the five dollar bill on the table for him to grab.
“Oh. Yeah, but I didn’t think it was too bad. I was wondering why your face was so red. I thought you were just hot.”
I look down at the multicolored tile table and pick at the bumps. “Oh, I guess it was a lot worse in my head then.” I give a laugh again, attempting to push aside any seriousness.
He keeps watching me.
“Hey, does that stuff actually bother you that much?” His voice sounds genuinely curious. I try to keep it lighthearted by speaking in a casual tone of voice.
“Yeah,” I slightly laugh, “I get pretty nervous sometimes when I have to order food and stuff. It’s dumb but hey whatever. It’s fine.” I keep picking at the bumps, too afraid to look back up at his face. I always try to laugh my problem off because I don’t want people getting on me about it, but the truth is that it really does get in the way of a lot of things for me. It isn’t just the being unable to order food but the immense fear of speaking to strangers or in front of too many people. Presentations in class cause my hands to tremble, calling up employers for a summer job is put off due to unbearable fear, and don’t even get me started on trying to make new friends. I hate trying to figure out if someone is genuinely interested in me or just trying to get through my random imposition without hurting my feelings. But, I can’t let other people know that. It’s pathetic, to be blunt.
I expect Mason to laugh it off as well, like everyone else does when I laugh it off. But things get silent, and I look up at him. He’s seems deep in thought, but when he sees me look up he snaps out of it.
“Well, if you want, I can just order for you whenever we go out. You can be in charge of finding us a seat,” he half smiles.
“Haha, funny.” I respond, assuming he’s joking.
“I’m not kidding. It’s no biggie.”
I make a face as if to say “That’s not gonna happen.”
He makes a face as if to say “You’re welcome.”
He takes my receipt as our food is called and gets the food for the both of us, winking at me along the way. My heart seems to like it here.