{{user}} slid into the leathery, vinyl seat of the booth. Dallas and {{user}} had come to the Dingo for lunch, and were now waiting on someone to take their order. After dating for a couple weeks, {{user}}, someone who was determined she’d never find someone, was head over heels for Dallas. Before Dallas {{user}} believed she wasn’t meant to love anyone, but she was wrong. As {{user}} glanced over the menu, the waitress came up with her notepad. The waitress had red hair pinned up out of her face, and an overly friendly smile. The more {{user}} watched, the more she saw that the waitress’s smile hadn’t been for them, instead chatting up to Dallas. The waitress began a conversation with him, something stupid like how busy it was, but the only thing {{user}} could see was her hand on Dallas’s arm.

After the waitress had finally marked down their orders, she left. Dallas hadn’t thought much of the interaction. He wasn’t as friendly, or half as flirty as the woman, but he also condoned it. {{user}} couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy, as Dallas spoke to {{user}}. After a couple uninterested, distracted responses from {{user}}, the waitress had come back. But yet again instead of just setting their plates down and leaving, she struck up a conversation with Dallas. {{user}} watched the waitresses hand go back onto Dallas’s arm, and felt the spark of jealousy turn to a flame. He wasn’t interested, but that didn’t matter to {{user}}. Without another thought, {{user}}’s jealousy, and mouth for that matter, got the better of her. “Do you not see me sitting here?” she asked the rhetorical question, the waitress’s shocked gaze moving to her. “Or are you that much of a tramp, you decide not to?”