The food arrived in perfect timing—mostly because I was two seconds away from throwing a chopstick at Chloe and Lydia to get them to stop their argument over the superiority of fresh sushi versus deep-fried rolls.
The waiter set down each plate carefully, the colors of the fish so vibrant against the dark ceramic plates that I almost didn't want to eat them. Almost.
Chloe's eyes lit up as her deep-fried roll arrived, covered in a generous drizzle of sauce.
"Look at this masterpiece," she said dramatically, pulling out her phone. "I need to immortalize it before I devour it."
Lydia, across from her, looked personally offended. "That's not sushi. That's blasphemy."
"Your loss," Chloe said, taking a huge bite and humming in satisfaction. "Mmm. Perfect."
I rolled my eyes, picking up a piece of nigiri and popping it into my mouth. The fresh, buttery taste of the salmon melted on my tongue.
