Drowning my sorrows

“Are your sorrows drowned in grease and cheese?” Chris smiled with a mouthful of his burger.

We’re sitting in his expensive car eating extra large meals from the local burger shack. I tried to protest both the food and the eating of said food on imported leather, but Chris wouldn’t budge.

He’d actually said that his car liked the cheese, so I assumed that despite his perfect physical form; he did this a lot. Which was somehow disturbing on so many levels.

“They’re definitely forgotten for now,” I dipped a fry into the large cup of melted cheese he’d ordered and shoved it into my mouth. “Leave it to some cheesy fries,” I wagged another cheese covered fry in the air, watching a glob of the melty substance fall onto his center console.

He leaned forward, swiping his tongue against the leather before smearing his hand over it. I stared at him horrified, which only made him purse his lips, “What?”

“I’m going to pretend that I didn’t just see you do that.”

A large chocolate milkshake sat in