Resisting The Playboy's Charm
Brandon darts over to us, and together, we head to the car.
It's a short drive to the nearest restaurant, a humble place that feels like it was lifted from a simpler time. As we step through the door, we're hit by a rush of warm air that smells like French fries. There's an old-fashioned jukebox pushed against one wall, and a classic rock tune plays quietly over the speakers.
The restaurant is almost at capacity, but it doesn't take long for us to get a table, a booth by a back window. Carolina and I each order burgers, and I ask for a kid's meal for Brandon—a cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate milkshake.
Bab Populer