Chapter 9 Ziggies

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Chelsea-

“Austin?” I call up into the tree house, not hearing an answer I take off my boots, set them on the ground, and begin up the ladder. “Austin?” I look back down to the ground and sure enough, his shoes were down there so he’s up here. I push open the door and look around. Austin is up here he’s sitting in the corner asleep. I walk over to him and sit beside him. “Austin,” I whisper placing a hand on his shoulder. He stirs slightly.

“Chelsea.” He mumbles looking around, “You look awesome in my #75 letterman.” He smiles, I look down at my attire and I was in fact still wearing his letterman. “But you’ve covered it in flour. What did you do get into another baking fight with Seth again?” He jokes brushing the four off my cheek and then his letterman.

“Oh, Austin, I’m so sorry.” I apologize. “I forgot I still had it on when I was baking.” I unbutton it to take it off but Austin stops me by grabbing my wrists.

“It looks better on you anyway.” He says with a smile, “Ready for dinner?”

“I don’t see any food around here, and haven’t since I got up here. Are you taking me somewhere?” I ask curiously.

“Yeah. The new Italian restaurant or Ziggie’s, Bridgecrest High’s number one hang out?” he asks with a smile. He looks so adorable.

“You know, I love trying new things, but I can’t give up a chance to be at my favorite hang out. They have the number one soft pretzels and sundaes.”

“I thought you’d say that,” he says standing up, “My parents let me borrow the bike until the police let my car out of their custody.”

“You want me on the back of a death machine?” I ask in disbelief, he nods uncertainly, “Cool, just don’t tell John.” I say with a smile as I walk over to the door.

“Chels, why do you do that to me?” Austin asks in exasperation, “Every time,” he meets me at the door and waits for me to head down.

“It’s fun to watch your uncertain reaction.” I answer stepping onto the ladder. “It’s the only time I see you uncertain about anything.” I climb down and put my shoes down. Austin not far behind. He shakes his blond mop with a silent laugh. He slides his shoes on his feet and turns to me.

“Are you ready?” He asks me.

“You know how to work these death mobiles?” I ask him. He gives a nod and a shrug. “Your dad?”

“Yup,” he tosses me one of the helmets and I slide my hat off my head so it hangs around my neck. I place the helmet on my head. It covers the upper portion of my head completely.

“Uh, Austin, is the helmet supposed to cover my eyes?” I ask him, “Is this your helmet?” I take the helmet off. “It’s too big.” I tell him with a smile.

“No, it’s my dad’s,” he says, “Switch, I'll wear his helmet.” He tosses me another helmet and I toss him his fathers. The other helmet fits a bit better, must be his. I hop onto the back of the bike and Austin starts it up. I grab hold of his shoulders praying I won't fall off the back. “Relax will you? I can’t move my arms.”

“Sorry,” I mutter. I loosen my grip slightly and he puts the bike in motion, “Why couldn’t you just borrow his pick up?” I ask loud enough for him to hear me, but not enough to damage his ears

“It needs a new battery” he yells over his shoulder. Ten very long minutes later, we pull up in the parking lot to Ziggie’s, our favorite restaurant hang out. “That was awesome.” He says shutting down the bike and hopping off. “Come on Chels.”

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