Sea Salt.

Lunch Breaks.

Chapter Five: Lunch Breaks.

There was only two weeks left of the first month of summer. I was almost panicking when I took a glance at my calender. Every box of everyday was filled with my work schedule except for a few random dates.

Wednesday, something totally unexpected happened. There was much for me to wonder about that particular day. I woke up with the feeling that the day would turn out wonderful. My breakfast of Eggs Benedict came out perfectly, more college letters came in the mail, and Amy called. I smiled more, I shined more.

I was working lunch at The Hot Shot. Marina finally taught me how to make some of the orders. They seemed simple, but they were very complex. Drizzling chocolate onto whipped cream doesn't always turn out the way you wanted to be. "Practice makes perfect" is what Marina had told me. 

Business was slow at around three. I politely asked Kyle and Marina that I was taking a lunch break for forty-five minutes. We had enough people in the kitchen, the drive-tru, and in the front. There wasn't much to worry.

I sat at the stools by the counter. I didn't go off to far from my working station. Cyan was nice enough to join me.

"Well, well, well!" Cyan smiled and plotted himself onto the black stool next me. He was less than meter away. "Is Em taking a break?"

Okay, I know what you are thinking. How did we get so casual. Well it's time for a flashback! and it won't be like a Ted Mosby flashback.

In the two weeks that has passed, Cyan and I had our ups and our downs.

There was that one time when we had started fighting about Pepsi and Coca-Cola. That took us five days. No worries though, our Sprite and Sierra Mist conversation wasn't as long. There was also that other time when we turned the whole bistro into some debating arena. It was even more serious than the presidential election. Things were flying. The topic was on Crocs. Fast forward a week and then Cyan starts to become more 'friendly' by buying me lunch, talking about each other's interests, and eventually exchanging digits (who says that anymore?). I was dancing in my brain when he typed his number into my phone. Maybe he was just like me? Maybe he was doing the "sprinkler" in his head, too?

Now that I had became more comfortable around him, I naturally became my very own self- which leads us to present day.

"In fact, I am taking a break," I said after swallowing a southwestern turkey sandwich. "I wouldn't be human if I worked 24/7."

"But you aren't human! Em, you're a robot!" Cyan joked.  Whenever he said my name like that, it made me feel closer to him. I felt like I had known him for years.

"You know, I can do The Robot very well. Just watch," I shoddily danced my way. Awkward dancing was my second job.

Cyan clapped, "Brava!" He laughed again. I disposed my crumbs and washed my hands. I looked outside the large window. i still haven't made any time for the beach. I never knew you could see much of the beach from the cashier register. I caught myself staring at it for too long, but Cyan followed my gaze toward the sea.

"What's up, Em?" Cyan asked. 

"I just, I..." I was embarrassed now. Cyan was probably fit for the beach type and he probably was. I could easily see him as a lifeguard, but then I pictured him in his work uniform white flour all over his hat and face. And under all of that flour, I could see him smile and shine. "I haven't been to the beach yet."

"Huh?" Cyan first said. He raised his right eyebrow. "Are you talking about this summer? You have been working all the time."

"No, Cyan. I'm talking about my whole life." Crap. He's the first one I told. I haven't even mentioned it to Amy.

"But haven't you,you know, lived here for a decade or more?"

"Yeah..."

"But, then..." Cyan saw my face. He finally got it and ran to the back. Pineapples, did I scare him off or something? He came back in a fast pace and grabbed my hand.

"Cyan? Where are we going?" I asked him as we got out the door and into his car. His car was black as night. It was new and well maintained. Inside the car smelled like mint and pine. It was awkward for me to be in his car. I felt like if I did the slightest thing, I would ruin his leather seats.

I watched Cyan pull down the windows and start the car. His stereo had automatically turn on to someone repeating the word 'boy' as if it was a basketball bouncing. He didn't look the type to be playing Big Sean at all.

I looked out the window, my hair flying out and whipping my face. Well I look wonderful. I gather my hair and tie it to the side. Cyan smiled as he drove away from The Hot Shot. It took him a few minutest to finally answer my question. I almost forgot what he was talking about. My eyes have been paying attention to the never ending coastline.

"We are going to somewhere I know you will love. It's just better than the sand where we live," he said. I blinked at him. Where was he taking me? I have to go back to the resturaunt!

Cyan turned his head to me when he finally parked, "Welcome to Santa Monica."

~*

You know what is weird? I used the word 'meter'  instead of yards or feet. I'm from America! We use the Customary System.

Oh give me a break. The Metric System is totally better.

Please tell me you understood the 'Ted Mosby' thing. I give you a big hint: How I Met Your Mother! 

Rate. Comment. Follow. ♥