One In A Minion

A Night on the Town

     I walk up to the doors of my favorite authentic Italian bistro: Olive Garden. Back in the 20's, this place was our most frequented hangout spot for Stuart and me and the rest of our Mafia mobsters. As I step up onto the sidewalk, I realize how ridiculous I must look. I'm wearing my highest two inch heels and a dress that hugs my curves in all the right places. I walk up to the door, and I realize that no matter how high I jump, I cannot reach the door handle- even with my two inch heels. I see a familiar face stride up to the door, and the door is pulled open to reveal Harry Styles. 

     "W-wow," he stutters; obviously flustered. "You look... wow." 

     For a second, I don't know if it's a good wow or a bad wow- so I look directly in front of me. He's obviously very excited, but it's not by his facial expression that I can tell. Sometimes, being 3'2" is a blessing. He gestures towards our table, and we go sit down. He's already ordered breadsticks, which is a good thing for me. I am eager to impress my new friend by showing off all my knowledge of human culture, and I am glad I have brought my purse for this very occasion. I have five breadsticks in my purse by the time Harry quizzically asks me what I am doing. 

     "Don't all humans do this at restaurants?" I reply to him. He looks at me, puzzled, and then it hits him. 

     "It's a meme, Sabrina," he says in between fits of laughter.

     "Oh, I was joking," I say, but I don't really know what he is talking about. I just hope I can keep the breadsticks. 

     I ask him a few questions about his life, and then he turns the tables. "So where did you go to college?" he asks me. "Assuming you're... wait- I don't even know how old you are." 

    "You should never ask a lady her age." 

     "Mysterious, I like it." He cheekily says back. "Not to get too personal too fast, but have you ever been in love?"

     "Been in love? I am in love!" I say back, thinking of my handsome Stuart. Harry gets an excited look in his eyes, and I assume it's because he is happy for me. 

     The more I get to know Harry, the more I like him. By the end of our dinner, I'm already thinking of what we might do for our second get-together. He pays the bill- not because he's the man, but because he's the millionaire- and we walk out to his car. A tipsy looking group of minions clamber out of the bar next door into the parking lot near us. Minions frequent this part of town, so it's no surprise. 

     "Sabrabra!" One calls out. I look closer and I can vaguely make out who he is- one of Stuart's friends, Kevin.

     "Hey- don't objectify her like that! Her boobs are none of your concern!" Harry shouts angrily at Kevin. I realize he's confusing my minion name with the word "bra," but I like this protective side of Harry... my friend Harry. We walk up to the curb of the road and I do my signature taxi call; a mix between a yodel and Katniss' mocking jay whistle. 

     "A pretty minion shouldn't be taking a taxi alone this late at night. I'll drive you home."

     I happily oblige to his offer. "This is what friends are for," I think to myself. As I'm lost in thought, I stumble a little bit. My feet are so tired from walking in heels. We finally reach his car, and as I climb into my seat I notice a Ke$ha album poking out from the CD holder. "You have Ke$ha's album?" I exclaim. She's my favorite artist. She knows what it's like to be different. 

     We spend the rest of the ride home talking about music, and Harry even recommends a few bands- he loves Twenty One Pilots and Alt-J. Before I know it, we are at my driveway. My driveway is only accessible by walking; ever since the attack on my beloved bungalow. 

     I can barely make it halfway up my driveway before my legs are too sore and tired to continue dodging all the pinecones on the pavement. Harry notices my predicament, and without warning, tries to pick me up bridal style. This does not work, however, and he ends up cradling me like an infant. I feel safe and warm in his muscular arms. 

     "After my wrestling matches," Harry begins, "My legs felt like jelly. I always wished someone was there to carry me." 

     "I'd carry you," I quip, "if i didn't have trouble carrying most cats." He chuckles from deep within his warm chest, the vibrations rattling me to my core.

     "Well, I'm no cat," he purrs. "I'm a cougar... well, maybe you're more of the cougar."

     I laugh it off, but it stings. "A cougar is a cat, you moron," I say, only half joking. 

     As we approach the house, he looks down at me with a sweet smile. 

     "Last time I was holding you like this, you told me to take you out. Now that I've done that, can I do what comes at the end of dinner?" Harry says.

     "What, dessert? I could eat bananas for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert!" I say sincerely. 

     Harry devilishly smirks after that remark, however, I don't know why. He adjusts his grip so that I'm hoisted in the air directly in front of him, my sore feet dangling towards the ground. Suddenly, everything slows down as I realize what he's about to do. There's no way to avoid it, so I maintain a completely neutral expression as he brings my lips to his. As soon as we touch, there's such a spark that it's hard to remain calm. His lips mold to mine and his tongue presses at my bottom lip for entry, which is firmly (but, more realistically shakily) denied. He breaks the kiss in confusion. 

     It's quiet, and there's an awkwardness that I have never experienced. I break the silence. "I thought we were just friends," I say.

     "Friends don't look at each other like that!" He harshly replies.

     "That's such a boyish assumption; thinking that any attempt at human connection is an invitation to screw!" 

     He looks at me with fire in his eyes. "You're so hot when you're mad," he taunts.

     "And you're so sexist when you're embarrassed!" I retort. 

     We stare angrily at each other, and I know I'm not looking at a platonic friend. He starts to set me down on the ground, but I know I can't let one argument ruin this connection. I grab the back of his neck and forcefully crash my lips onto his. I let all my emotions pour into this kiss, some good, some bad. He pushes me up against the door, and the kiss is broken for a second. "This is far better than any pyramid," I breathe out, and our lips meet again. I can feel him smiling through the kiss, and this time I initiate the tongue. As I run my tongue through his thin lips, the door is quickly pulled open behind me. 

     Stuart stands in the doorway, mouth hanging wide open, tears running down his face. He hangs his head, and I can see something disgusting- my reflection in Stuart's tears.