Much to my relief everything was normal inside. Familiar smells of meat being roasted, grilled and fried, the acrid sweetness of pickled jalapenos, and the soft scent of warm corn tortillas all filled the air. The place wasn’t bustling but it was far from empty. A few pleasantly curved waitresses dressed in frilly red aprons wandered from table to table doling out drink refills. The closest one, Rosa, greeted us and told us to sit wherever we liked.

We settled into a reddish brown booth, sitting together rather than across from one another.

“This is our third date, are you expecting anything special?” Megan asked arching an eyebrow.

“I don’t think the convention is to have lunch and then lots of sex.” I said wryly. Inwardly I cringed as soon as the words were out of my mouth but Megan seemed to take them in stride.

“Why not?”

I couldn’t think of a good answer. Luckily I was saved as Rosa came to deliver our menus. Megan took charge, holding her hand up and saying, “We’ll split the house special.”