Fine Apple | ✓

p i n e a p p l e

❝The truth is, everyone is going to hurt you. You just got to find the ones worth suffering for.❞ -Bob Marley

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ten minutes before

HE HAD never in his life felt as confident as he did at that moment, chin turned up slightly and condescending gaze reflected back onto himself in the mirror, shattering the smoldering glare almost instantly as he laughed. Once more, he squared his shoulders, flattening the remaining creases in his pale lavender button-down, tucking the hem into his tan shorts. No one would ever recognize the shabby, head-in-the-clouds fruit seller beneath the new Land's End persona he had adopted as part of the cruise ship staff.

Rubbing the ridges of his muscles as a final dose of energy, he let out a short breath and walked out onto the deck, heading directly for the nearby smoothie bar suspended beneath a tiki-themed grass roof which bore an array of flauntingly carved Easter Island heads on the countertop. Just as he stepped into the shack, the phone in his pocket began to vibrate with an incoming call. A quick glance at the screen identified the caller, and he abruptly locked eyes with his curly-haired coworker Zack over the counter. A slight roll of the eyes preceded Zack's eventual nod of halfhearted permission before he returned his focus to the drink he was crafting.

Nicholas stepped out of the tiki hut, phone pressed to his ear. "Hey," he managed, closing his eyes briefly as Aria's comfortingly familiar voice rang out from the device.

"What, no 'this is the Fine Apple Market' blah-blah-intro-whatever?" she demanded. Her voice was teasing, trying too hard to sound annoyed while failing to mask the edge of excitement that spilled through.

He smiled. Nothing could keep it back. The conversation flowed effortlessly between them, the corny jokes on his end and her exaggerated impatience on the other until he found himself blushing ridiculously. Zack, having lost patience, presently shoved a paper scrawled with a customer's order into his hands, and Nicholas was forced to shift his attention briefly.

Kiwi Raspberry. Blended to medium-slushie texture. Add milk. 

His hands found the ingredients instinctively, fingers brushing the kiwis with discernment, selecting one of average tenderness, with just enough cushion to be called ripe yet not so much that it would collapse when squeezed. The raspberries were fresh, chopped to perfection. He sliced the fruit, stripping it of its unflattering sections before sifting it into the blender along with the milk and crushed ice, closing his eyes and just listening as the blender worked its magic, swirling the disparate items into one beautiful, exuberant flurry of color and patterns.

Meanwhile, in his ear, Aria chattered in her sweet, adorable tone, telling him all about hers and Lyndsey's vacation and the five-day cruise they were on.

He felt his limbs stall, hesitate. The icy condensation radiating from the handle of the blender beaded coolly onto his skin.

Five-day cruise.

And then he was turning away, biting his lip with annoyance. It's too much, Nicholas. You just want to see her too badly.

But he did want to see her, and this desire burned relentlessly. The familiar voice in his ears demanded to be accompanied by a face. The phantom face that lived in his imagination ached to be confirmed in the flesh.