➵ f i f t y
I’ve always had a thing for brunch. It just sounds so fascinating, and also, there’s really no limit to what kind of food you can eat. It varies from boiled eggs and bacon strips to waffles and fries. I’m about to faint just thinking about how much I’m craving waffles.
Ashton and I have agreed to meet up for brunch today since we haven’t really seen one another yesterday and we’re just so damn clingy (also because I’m very hungry.)
Of course, I’m the late one. Although I do have a good defence. I was watching the latest episode of my show and I just couldn’t miss it, so he had to wait.
I rush my way out of the car and up the stairs of the extremely tall building. One of the best brunch menus is located right on the top floor of this building, and lucky for me, no one knows much of it.
I hear my phone start to buzz for the fifth time just from my car to the elevator. I ignore it, running through the almost shut elevator and sighing out in relief was I get in, pressing the highest button number.
I smile at the person beside me, in hopes of not to seem like I’ve just commit murder and I’m in need of a hideaway.
I start to brush my hair with my fingers and lick my lips before I adjust my pants and breathe out one last time before I see the doors of the elevator widen out.
Quickly rushing to the end of the hallway, I enter the white styled sunshine filled restaurant, telling the waiter that I have someone waiting for me at the back.
I look around, spotting Ashton’s head focused on his phone and his elbows propped on the glass table beside the various greens behind him.
I’m depending so much on my shiny personality and good smell to drift away the attention from my homeless look. But anyway, it’s just Ashton.
“Hi!” I greet, breathless from all the rush and running I’ve done in the previous moments, plopping down in the white chair in front of him and setting my phone on the table, “I know I’m late, I’m sorry but it was urgent and I couldn’t just leave,” I explain, “I mean, they figured out that her husband slept with the dead girl and I’m so,” I breathe out, “Oh my god.”
“Are you okay?” he chuckles, settling his phone on the table and pulling his chair forward to be closer to me.
“I’m fine,” I smile.
“Now tell me, what’s gotten into you? Wanting to have brunch all of a sudden? Last time I checked, I had to drag you out of my bed at this time by your feet cause you were too ‘lazy’ to go pee,” he raises his eyebrows, quizzing me with a curious stare.
“That was a completely different situation, and you know it!” I argue, “number one, I was having an incredibly amazing dream, and second, no one asked you to pull me out of bed,” I shrug.
“You told me you’d piss on my bed if you didn’t move in ten seconds,” he laughs, “now enough talk about your bathroom business, I already ordered you something since you always get the same damn thing everywhere we go,” he smiles.
I might be overthinking, but something about his smile just doesn’t seem right.
“Oh really?” I declaim, folding my arms and sitting back in my chair, “what’d you order?”
“God damn, can we bet on this?” he exclaims, overconfidently excited.
I’m sitting with an actual ten year old. But then again, I remember what he did two nights ago while I was on the phone.
