Weekend at Millie's

Friday

"Mr. McArthur wasn't here today, so we watched a movie instead of learning about the Russian Revolution." Millie sighed, disappointed. "But I was really looking forward to discussing the textbook!"

"Millie, can you even hear yourself?" Ripper's eyebrows were furrowed. "You've gotta be the only person on the planet upset about watching a movie in history class. That's every high schooler's dream!"

Millie could only roll her eyes at his narrow-minded conception of 'every high schooler.' "Some people actually enjoy learning. You probably would, too. The Russian Revolution is all intrigue and drama and betrayal and buff guys shooting each other dead in the streets."

"You had me at 'shooting each other dead in the streets,'" Ripper declared, and then he settled the matter by taking a long slurp of his triple-chunk java frappuccino.

The two of them sat in a booth at the local coffee shop, which was only a few blocks from their high school. It was a good way to spend a Friday afternoon: drinking with your boyfriend, talking about their day at school, and arguing about the necessity of movies in the education system.

"The movie was at least relevant," Millie conceded after taking a sip of her own vanilla sweet cream cold brew (the same coffee order she'd been drinking since she was fourteen). "We watched Anastasiya, which is about the crown princess of the Romanov dynasty. Have you seen it?"

"Um, doesn't ring a bell," Ripper said. "Did you like it?"

It was nice of him to ask. Millie took this as an opportunity to explain the plot of the movie—Anastasiya's quest to reunite with her grandmother, and the romance she encounters along the way—and how it was historically inaccurate to what truly happened.

"But I will admit that historical inaccuracy isn't necessarily a dealbreaker for movies, especially one like this, where it's obviously speculative—" Millie paused. "Are you blowing bubbles?"

Indeed, Ripper was blowing bubbles into his triple-chunk java frappuccino.

"I've been listening!" he said around the straw in his mouth. "Anastasiya is really stuck-up and falls for the guy she's been arguing with. Got it. Locked in my steel-trap brain."

And yet he continued blowing bubbles. Two months ago, Millie would have found this behavior mildly irritating. Now, it was somewhat endearing.

Loosen up, Millie, she told herself. She picked up her drink and blew bubbles. Truly, it was the most humbling thing she'd ever done (aside from agreeing to date Ripper in the first place. Kidding. Kinda).

"That's the spirit!" Ripper grinned at her. He looked so goofy that Millie decided she wouldn't mention the whipped cream mustache on his upper lip.

"What was your favorite part of the day?" Millie asked, setting down her cold brew.

"Gym, for sure! Or am I supposed to say now, 'cause I'm hanging out with you?" Ripper frowned, conflicted.

"You can just say gym class," Millie assured him before he had an aneurysm. "I was asking about your school day."

"Okay, phew. Anyways, yeah, in gym we played kickball, and this one kid accidentally got decked in the face."

"Is he okay?" Millie asked. There was a reason she did not like sports.

"He had to go to the nurse, which means he'll be fine. Just being a crybaby or something."

Millie raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that means he's a crybaby."

"Sure it does! A real macho guy would've stayed in the game and sucked up the pain."