drunken monologues

chapter 2

now you're just
doing that because
you know it
annoys me

maybe. i don't know 🤷‍♀️

okay bye lexi
wait i meant
mrs. turner

y/n we're not even
dating!!

you kissed though
and 12 year old u would
consider that married

well i'm not twelve
anymore

and i'm not 9 anymore.
this is old information 🙄
anyways bye lexi i'll
go get food now

okay bye :)

bye!

You showered, got dressed, wrote your order down in case you forgot it, and headed to the closest McDonald's on your bike.

- ♪ -

"Okay, so one cheeseburger, one chicken wrap, and a side fries," you muttered to yourself, looking at the car in front of you. You wondered if it was normal to go through a drive-thru on a bike. You also wondered if practising orders a thousand times were normal.

The silver Toyota drove forward, so you followed, pedalling forward.

The speaker-screen-thing - err, the employee - said, "Afternoon, this is McDonald's drive-thru, how may I help you?"

You mumbled something about writing inspiration before remembering that whoever said that could hear you. "Um, good afternoon, could I get a cheeseburger, a chicken wrap, and... what was that... a side of fries? Yeah, a side of fries."

"What size?" The employee asked.

"The what?" you asked back, a bit confused.

He clarified, "What size do you want your fries?"

"Ohhh, I'll get them in medium, please." Must be the hunger, you thought.

The speaker made keyboard clicking sounds and the screen now read ᴛʀɪ ᴄʜs ʙʀɢʀ 1, ᴄʜᴋɴ ᴡʀᴀᴘ 1, ᴍᴅᴍ ꜰʀɪᴇs 1. "So a triple cheeseburger, a chicken wrap, and a side of fries?" The employee asked.

"Yeah, that'll be all," you replied. "Actually, can I get a Sprite with that?"

"Of course," he replied. More typing noises. Something popped up on the screen: sᴘʀɪᴛᴇ 1. "Is that all?" He asked patiently.

You read the screen twice before replying, "Yeah, thanks."

"That'll be £6 in window two," he told her. You pedalled to window two as a car behind you move forward.

The window opened, showing a tall guy with rather fluffy brown hair who seemed to be in his mid-twenties. "Hi, it was six pounds, right?" You asked, counting coins and bills in your wallet.

"Yeah, six pounds," he replied. You looked up for a few seconds and saw that his name was Alberto, then handed him £6. "Thank you, your order'll be ready at window three,"

"You too," you said back, pedalling to window three, only stopping midway realising your reply made no sense. "Err, I meant to have a nice day."