“Here you go, one strawberry for the handsome young man, and a chocolate for the lady who wants to work here.”
Breton and I said thanks, and then I inquired again about a job.
“Well, there’s not much people here,” she said, indicating the rest of the parlor, which sat empty.
“But I could help you think of ways to bring in customers!” I insisted.
“And there’s a lot of jobs to do,” she continued. “Cleaning, cooking, making the drinks, serving, waitressing, and a bit more too.”
“I can do almost everything, except cook,” I told her.
Breton backed me on this. “She can’t cook.”
“Well,” the lady said, “I could do the cooking. And it’d be nice to get a break from the chores around here… Tell you what. You come back in a few weeks, and we’ll get you set up for a trial day, okay?”
“Really?” I asked. “You’re sure? A trial week? I might be able to work here!”
The lady grinned and nodded, and began to walk away, saying, “I’ll see you in a few weeks, girl.”
“Shouldn’t you know my name before hiring me?” I wondered.
She cautioned, “You’re not hired yet.”
“Right. But if I do get hired, you should know my name. I’m Georgie Talbot.”
“Her full name is Georgia,” Breton blurted. “She prefers Georgie.”
“I like it. I’m Pat. My full name’s Patricia,” the woman, Patricia, told us. “I’ve got paperwork to do in the back. Enjoy your meal, kids.”
“Thank you,” Breton and I said in unison.
“Don’t mention it!” she called in return.
We gratefully dug into our food, enjoying the greasy fries. I dipped a few onion rings into some mustard on my plate, and Breton reached over to do the same.
“Get your own plate!” I playfully scolded.
“I have a plate,” he informed me. “But it doesn’t have mustard on it. This is good, by the way.” He dipped another onion ring in the condiment, eating the whole thing in one bite.
“Pig,” I laughed.
“Growing boy!” he corrected, eating more food. “How’s your malt?”
I took a sip, and nearly died of joy. “Oh my gosh, this is delicious. It’s the perfect amount of chocolate and malt powder, and this must be magic ice cream! Let me taste yours.”
“No way!” Breton gently slapped my hand away from his large cup. I pouted, crossing my arms and avoiding his eyes. “Fine,” the boy groaned. “But let me try it first, at least.”
Instantly, I brightened. “Thanks, Breton!”
He sipped his drink, then his eye lit up and he began spooning the thick malt into his mouth.
“Hey!” I protested when half the cup was gone. “Save some for me!”
“These are magic malts,” he insisted, sitting back and swapping our cups, so that I had his strawberry and he could taste the chocolate. I sipped the malt through the straw, once again tasting heaven.
‘Which, I’ve decided, no longer tastes like cookie dough, or chocolate. It’s these malts. Yummy,’ I thought.
“This is really good,” Breton mumbled, dipping a few fries in my malt and eating them.
“Eww.” I scrunched up my face. “You’re so weird!”
“I’m just hungry.”
“Weirdly hungry,” I teased.
“Whatever.” He grinned boyishly. “So, how is it?”
I was confused. “How is what?”
“The celebration! Georgie, we are celebrating, remember?” Breton reached for my hand. “Are you feeling alright? Is my presence overwhelming you? Or is it the malts?”
“Maybe a combination,” I admitted. “But whatever it is, it’s kind of fun.” His hand in mine felt really nice, and when he reached across the table again to feel my forehead, I smiled. “I’m fine Breton! I’m just… really happy, and I forgot why we came here.”
He leaned back in his seat, sighing in relief. “Oh, good. I thought you might be sick.” For a minute, I thought he wouldn’t let go of my hand, but then he let go, picking up some french fries instead.
“So…” I said lamely, “now that I know what I’m saving you from, would it be awkward if I keep doing what I’ve been doing? And, you know, saving you?”
Breton finished chewing and looked at me unsurely. “Do you… do you want to stop? I mean, that’s totally okay! It’s not even like you have to keep going, you’ve done a lot already! And-”
I cut him off. “You’re cute when you’re worried. I think I’ll continue. There’s thirteen days left, and I might as well finish up, right? Plus, I like saving you.” I grinned at him. “It’s fun.”
He shook his head slowly. “You’re incredible.”
“I know.” I nodded my agreement. “And humble too.”
He laughed, and finally relaxed. “Thanks, Georgie.”
“Anything for you, Breton!” I sang with a wink.
He fell out of his seat.
“Breton!” I got up quickly and reached for his hand, pulling him up so he was standing. “Are you okay?”
“I think we need to grab the check, and a doggy bag. And some of those carry-out cups Pat was talking about,” he muttered, rubbing his head.
“Okay, I’ll get it. You sit down.” I pushed his shoulders to make him sit, and he obeyed. I glanced over at him worriedly as I crossed the room towards the front counter, where I rang the bell and waited for Patricia to come out of the back.
“Coming!” she called. “What can I do for you?”
“Can we have the check please? And a few carry-out boxes and cups? Breton hit his head and is ready to leave,” I asked politely.
“Oh dear, what did you do?” Pat asked she reached under the counter for the containers.
“I was just teasing him!” I cried defensively. I heard a loud thunk and turned around to see Breton banging his head against the table. Pat laughed.
“Oh, sweets, that was too much for the boy.”
“Huh?” I questioned, confused.
“Tell you what. Give the boy a kiss at the end of the night, and your meal is free. Here’s the boxes. Thanks for coming in!” She waved me away and left back to the other room.
“Here Breton!” I called, passing him a box as I separated the cups and reached for my malt, pouring it into one cup before locking on the lid and cramming the straw in as well, then doing the same to Breton’s drink. In the meantime, he was boxing up the fries and onion rings.
“Where’s the check?” he asked, looking around.
“She said it’s on the house.” I shrugged.
“That was nice of her.”
“Yeah. Pat seems like a really nice lady. I can’t wait until my interview!” I grinned giddily, carrying the malts out as Breton grabbed the food. As we walked past the counter, I noticed he stuffed a few dollars in the tip jar, making my smile widen.
We climbed in the car and he started the engine. We started a comfortable conversation about nothing in general.
“I can’t believe we have school tomorrow,” Breton groaned when we were almost home.
“School sucks the joy out of life,” I agreed. “Although it’s better now that I have friends.”
“Yeah, but you can see your friends outside of school,” he argued. “So, really, I don’t need school.”
“You need to graduate,” I told him sternly.
“I know,” he pouted, “but I don’t have to like it.”
“That’s the spirit!” I said cheerfully. We pulled into his driveway and I waited for him to park before I climbed out of the car. I stood waiting for him to walk over to me, shifting my weight from side to side.
“Georgie?” he asked, standing next to me. “Are you okay?”
“Are you?” I asked, looking at his head.
“Yeah,” he shrugged, “a bit embarrassed, but it doesn’t hurt.”
“Alright.” I breathed deeply. “Right, okay then. See you tomorrow, Breton.”
“See ya, Georgie.”
I took a big deep breath and stood on my toes, kissing him suddenly before turning away and bolting into my house.
“Georgie!” he yelped behind me, but I kept running. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.
“Oh my gosh!” I yelled, running past my mom and up into my room.
“Georgie?” she called up the stairs in confusion.
“I’m busy mom!” I called back. “I’ll come down in a minute.”
I ran into my room and threw myself on the bed, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it.
“Okay, I’m coming down,” I told my mom, rushing back down the stairs.
“What is going on?” she asked me, confusion written all over her face.
“Well, you see Mom,” I said, “I kissed Breton.”
Instead of looking surprised, she nodded. “That explains why he’s standing in his driveway like a statue.”
“What?” Now it was my turn to be confused.
“Oh, Georgie,” Mom said. “That boy’s in love with you.”
“What?” I repeated.
“Everyone can tell. I knew it since the first day I saw the two of your together, that he would fall for you,” she continued.
“What?” I asked.
“And I was right,” she sighed. “It must be fate.”
“What?”
“Be good to him, Georgie,” she told me, patting my cheek. “He’s good for you.”
“What?”
“Goodnight, sweetheart!” my mom said, walking past me.
“What just happened?” I wondered aloud.
~~
*evil laughter is heard in the distance as the author taunts her readers, then runs away to hide*
Okay, so, hahahahha what do ya'll think of THAT!? I've updated again, and it was awesome, was it not? Tell me what you think of the chapter in the comments, and please don't forget to vote if you liked the chapter! The next one will be up tomorrow, and then hopefully one a day until December 6th! Wish me luck on my writing marathon, I've got over 8,000 words to wrap up for NaNoWriMo.
Also, Breton's POV of this chapter is up now! You can find it in the external link, or on my profile under "45 Days: Extra Chapters"
Thank you all for reading, voting, and commenting on previous chapters!