Denny's is just such a great place. You can trust that breakfast chain to be anywhere when you need it. No matter where you are you can just stroll into the generic diner and the pancakes and hash browns will be the exact same whether you're in Seattle, Washington or Placerville, California. This familiar feeling resonates in me as Spencer and I take a seat across from each other in a booth in the corner next to the front window. When we got here we didn't need to wait to be seated. Its only 7:13 am so the only other people here are the workers; a man in a suit, hastily emptying the entire coffee pot that he asked to be left at his table; and a girl who must've had a crazy night by the looks of her hangover and confusion, probably from the fleeting high of Las Vegas, but she doesn't look too bothered by it as a half-baked smile of disbelief appears on her face because Vegas, baby. Sure.

I leave the others be and focus on the amazingly average breakfast foods that await me from the sticky laminated menu. I notice the table shaking and eye Spencer's bouncing leg from underneath the table. I look up and see that he's been staring at me. "Is there dried drool on my face or something," I chuckle, a bit anxious by the uncharacteristically uneasy way he was looking at me.

He instantly cuts off his gaze and clears his throat. "Oh, uh, sorry, man. I've just been thinking-"

Just then the waitress, seemingly coming from nowhere, sets down two glasses of water, with such an elegance that only restaurant food servers have. She gives us both a wide friendly smile, her hands now hovering over her apron, ready to pull out her pad and pen, "Welcome to Denny's, boys. Are you two ready to order?"

A small trace of annoyance goes through my brain at her clear interruption of our conversation and then the teeniest tiniest bit of fear hits me as I didn't get the chance to prepare my order in my head, "Um-"

"Yeah, we'll both have a Blue Berry Pancake Breakfast, a side of bacon with mine, a side of hash browns with his, and some coffee would be great," Spencer kindly grins at the waitress and hands her both of our menus, to which she looks very pleased. I'm partially dumbfounded by his sudden change in demeanor until the waitress walks off and it switches back. He immediately starts gulping down water.

"Uh, you good?"

The bottom of the glass hits the table a little harder than expected when he puts it down, causing a loud bang, "Yeah, yeah. Of course. I just have a few questions for you."

"Alright," I shift in the booth, "Shoot."

"So obviously you know I accept and support you, and I couldn't give a rats ass about who you do what with but," Oh, God. "I was wondering..." He trails off and lets out a frustrated sigh, bringing his hand up to stressfully rub the side of his face. "Shit, man. This sounds weird."

"Come on, Spence," I cut in impatiently, "what is it?" Whatever it is is obviously stressing him out which is stressing me out.

"Okay, sorry, sorry." He leans in and lowers his voice. "In the video from Kierra, you were with that dude. You told me that before then you hadn't done anything even though its what you'd prefer. And then I got to thinking-- well-- you're a grown boy," he looks less embarrassed and more amused now, "That was in San Francisco, at the beginning of our trip."

Oh. I see where this is going.

He must've noticed my eyes widen in understanding because a shit-eating grin grows on his face as he continues, "There were times during the trip when I got concerned for you because I only saw you with maybe five girls. Considering that we were on our own for 34 days and going out nearly every night, five was a pretty low number for you. I mean, I just thought that maybe you were off your game or something." Spencer raises his eyebrows expectantly at me for a confirmation of his unspoken theory.

"Well, it was hard holding it in for so long," I timidly laugh, feeling my face heat up a little.

"Ry-"

The waitress has come back-- again-- from seemingly nowhere. She sets two cups of coffee in front of us with that elegance and gives the both of us another toothy smile, "Your food should be out shortly is there anything else I can get you, boys?"

Spencer answers quickly, almost cutting her off, "Yeah, we could use some extra creamer," and only returns a forced closed mouth smile, clearly trying to signal her departure from our table. She looks slightly taken aback by the sudden harshness of her customer. She kind of deserved it in all honesty; this was her second time interrupting our conversation. She might have the gracefulness of a waitress but she was deficient in the ability to sense the air of her customers. Taking our request she left the table, her response to our thanks when she set down the bowl of creamer, lackluster.

Once she's out of earshot, Spencer leans into the table again, "I didn't mean to embarrass you or anything, Ryan, I actually just wanted to say I'm proud of you." Spencer smiles sweetly, "You got a lot more ass than I thought you did."

I instantly snort and try to hold in the rest of my laughter because it appears Spencer is trying his best to be sort of serious.

"And because I was unaware at the time I would like to congratulate you - though I may be a bit late - on getting lucky kinda for the first time in a way, as it is tradition." While saying this I notice that he's unrolling his napkin and grabbing the spoon.

"Not here, dude, don't you fucking dare." I try but it's too late.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of this fine Denny's," Spencer announces into his spoon microphone to the businessman, lost hungover girl, and the staff, now standing from the booth before I can stop him, "if I could get your attention!"

The waitress is at the counter and looks thoroughly pissed; everyone else, extremely confused. Knowing how this is going to end I start guzzling down the rest of my coffee and simultaneously digging through my backpack for my wallet.

"This here is my best friend in the entire world, Ryan Ross," he points to me making my way over to the counter and I meekly wave to the poor people in this chain diner.

Spencer goes on to say a few more things about me as I get to the tense waitress who is holding our food, about to deliver it to our table. "Hi, could we actually get boxes for this to go?" I grab the boxes from her and start scooping the food into a greasy pile.

With my back to him as I close the overflowing boxes, I can hear the finale coming, "... and it is my honor to announce that my dear friend has gotten laid!"

"Out! Now!"

I hastily grab all of our things and put a handful of crumpled up bills on the counter. "Thank you for the breakfast," I shout over my shoulder, pushing Spencer who's laughing hysterically through the door. I, myself am trying to save my snickering until after we have gotten into the car.

The hungover girl is clapping as we exit.