The Cinderella Agreement (Completed) [Featured Story]

23: The PPP (2)

¡Nobody guessed correctly! :(

We've always got next time tho, amirite ?

Mit let out a low guttural growl as she recognized the voice as Cisco's, and even felt so more murderous when she looked up to see his amused face.

"Thank goodness, he's fine," he sighed, scooping Edward in his arms. Mit could almost swear that her dog just smirked at her. "Hey there, Mit. We haven't even known each other for long, and yet look at you. Already falling for me."

"Go to hell," she said back, only half joking, reaching for her phone that lay discarded on the floor. Her chest deflated when she saw her screen guard cracked irrevocably in a web-like arrangement, and she wondered briefly if the fall had been hard enough to have affected her actual screen, too.

"You'll have to draw me a map first. I think you'd know, since you allegedly crawled out of there." Cisco winked, then offered a large palm to her. "Come on. I think you've made your declaration of true love clear enough. Let's clean you up, hmm?"

Mit scoffed loudly, but took his ahold of his hand anyway, and the scrape on her knee smarted when she stood. Sharp tingles shot through her butt at the same time too, as if its loss of contact with the ground had heightened its sense of stimulus. She hoped it wouldn't bruise.

Cisco was still smiling when she looked at him again. She froze. Was she really thinking about her butt when Cisco Moratti was right in front of her? Her cheeks warmed only slightly as she contemplated the possibility of him reading her mind.

"Nice dragon you have here. Could have fooled me for a minute," he remarked, observing the add-on tag attached to Edward's collar.

She rolled her eyes, simultaneously inspecting the pet carrier. Thankfully it wasn't cracked in any place, but the latch was beyond wonky. "Don't judge me. I just really wanted to get in."

"You don't have to have a pet to get in," Cisco said, now scratching the area behind Edward's ear. "I came alone. I just paid a little extra."

At this, Mit cocked an eyebrow. "Then why did you come? What are you getting out of it?"

He sent her a clandestine look. "I heard there's a commercial deep fryer here. You can fry anything!" He could barely contain his excitement, his brown eyes expanding in size as he spoke. "That's culinary heaven! I've always wanted to try a fried Oreo. Or what about a fried apple? Pretzel? Cotton candy? The possibilities are endless! It's a dream come true."

"Sounds more like a nightmare for your gastric system to me."

"Haters will hate," he retorted offhandedly, with faux offense. "You just don't understand the cause." He stopped in front of another concessions stand, pressed a crisp dollar bill against the counter, and asked for a bottle of water. The pimple-faced teen attendant, who appeared positively encumbered by the sheer drudgery of simple employment, relayed the bottle before returning to his blank-eyed, zombie-esque default mode.