Rosie stood at the window of the food truck, taking customer's orders one by one. Tonight they were parked at an open air movie showing of Dirty Dancing. Couples with their picnic rugs dotted the grassy hill in front of the food truck line. Rosie could just see the screen and the sound carried far enough that she could vaguely hear it over the din of the crowd.

Me? I'm scared of everything. I'm scared of what I saw, I'm scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all I'm scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I'm with you.

Rosie screwed up her face at how cheesy the movie was, and how pathetic the main character seemed. She wasn't a romantic – she'd take Die Hard over Dirty Dancing any day. Rosie firmly believed that love wasn't like the movies made out at all. It was messier and a lot harder work. It wasn't all lame quotes that supposedly made hearts melt and raunchy sex scenes. It was much simpler to steer clear of the entire situation in Rosie's mind. The single life was uncomplicated, and she liked it. She handed a cream cheese bagel down to the customer she was serving and went to take the order from the woman behind them.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" a voice interrupted. When Rosie looked up she noticed it was Marco, the chef from the food van across from hers.

"There's a line if you want to order." She pointed the back of the queue with an impatient glance at him before returning to cutting ingredients. The line was long so she didn't have time to deal with him right now.

"The only thing I'm ordering is for you stop serving bacon. Okay, pig's our turf."

"Oh my God, your turf?" Rosie scoffed. "Is this West Side Story? Are we gonna rumble at midnight?"

"You know what, maybe. I got a whole gang of back up dancers just waiting to go"

"Oh wow." She couldn't believe the nerve of Marco. What was his problem?

"Okay you're the cheese truck, so stick to cheese."

"Can I order now?" The woman at the front of the queue interjected impatiently but was quickly cut off again by Marco as he physically moved between her and the window.

"No, just give me one second, please!"

"That's funny, because I noticed that those jalapeño fritters that you guys are serving?" Rosie began to say.

"Are awesome, right? They're my invention, I made them."

"They have ricotta cheese in them," she finished and began to taunt him immaturely by making faces at him.

"Oh come on it's like a little bit of cheese. It's nothing compared to the bacon crutch you're propping these sandwiches up on." Marco retorted equally as childishly.

"They're paninis. They are grilled peach and blue cheese paninis with a DASH of bacon. Also awesome, also my invention." She turned to the back of the truck in the hopes that Marco would leave her the hell alone, but instead he walked around to the side door and continued to talk.

"Alright you wanna go? Let's go. Your special against my special, whoever sells the most tonight wins."

"Fine." Rosie snapped.

"Fine. Alright, if I win you have to have a drink with me. And if you win you may have three drinks with me."

Rosie shook her head in a combination of annoyance and amusement. "That's cute, so you can stand me up again? No thank you."

"That was like, five years ago. But that's sweet that you still remember that, I'm impressed Rosie. I'll see you in the field, alright." Having issued his challenge, Marco started to walk back towards his own truck.

"It doesn't keep me up nights!" Rosie assured him as she leant out the window to call after him.

" Sure!"

"Who's that?" Rosie's co-worker, Alexia, asked.

"This guy from high school. Total player." Rosie replied, taking a sip from her water bottle. Her tone of voice did not even try to hide the distain she had for Marco.

"I'd play with that," Alexia mused as she watched Marco retreating to his truck.

"Ew don't be gross, don't be that girl." Rosie screwed the lid onto her bottle and set it down on the bench before hurrying back to work. She wasn't about to let Marco show her up, so she had a bet to win.

After the last of the crowd had gone home, Rosie marched over to Marco's truck with a fistful of notes. They'd sold $249 worth of their paninis and Rosie was confident that there was no way Marco could have beaten her. She climbed up into the truck without waiting to be invited in and spread the takings onto the bench top like a hand of poker cards.

"Read them and weep, Marco."

A grin spread over Marco's face as he turned to the cash register. When he turned back around he was holding a wad of cash, much bigger than Rosie's pile had been. He didn't even have to say anything, Rosie knew he had beaten her. She angrily snatched up the money from the bench and jumped down from the truck.
"I'll keep up my end of the bet because I'm a woman of my word. But don't think this changes anything between us Marco – I still hate you." She turned and stormed back towards her truck, leaving Marco smirking as he watched her walk away.

Ten minutes later, the food truck was finally clean and ready for transport. Rosie shut the back doors and banged on them twice to let Alexia know she was good to go. As the truck pulled away, Marco appeared from behind it. A grin spread over his face.

"I win." He held up four beers which he held in both his hands; three for Rosie for losing the bet, and one for him.

"Shut up," Rosie hissed and punched him in the arm. She grabbed a drink from him and took a sip immediately. "Okay let's get this over with."