Bittersweet Moments

20 | Churro

20 | Churro

The cold weather was my favorite.

My boot-clad feet splashed on the wide puddle on the street. As pellets of raindrops fell down from the sky, people rushed to different ways to get home. I paid no heed at the busy city and focused on my food and getting to the park. A few more minutes later, I found a vacant bench sheltered under a thin metal roof. Pulling my hood closer, I squeezed through the crowds to get to the bench.

It was surprisingly dry inside the shelter. Grinning in satisfaction, I leaned back and feasted on my churros. Sneaking out of the house was easier than it sounded.

Someone sat beside me. From the corner of my eye, I saw Jackson next to me, a little wet from the rain.

"Uh," he cleared his throat, "Rainy day, huh?" A smile spread on my face; he did choose to come after all.

"Churro?" I offered him one. He looked confused for moment, staring at the stick of churro. I shoved the treat closer to his face, "Come on. It has chocolate dip."

Once I showed him the dip, he took the churro hesitantly. "I'm surprised you came," I held up a finger-ful of chocolate to my face, "Just because I said so? I thought I'd be sitting here in the rain, eating churros by myself."

A little laugh escaped from him, "I wouldn't let that happen. Passing up the opportunity of churros, I mean."

I bumped my shoulder on his, "I bought these on my way here. How was your trip, by the way? Did you escape through your grilled window?"

He only stared at me, dumbfounded. "What?" I asked, feeling around my face in case it was stained with chocolate. "It was easy getting out of the house, you know. The front door was wide open for me to come out of. I even grabbed a cup of hot coco on my way out."

And I got to see the look on Mel's face when I inconspicuously slipped out of the shop with the cup in my hand.

"Front door? The back door was useful for me," Jackson explained, "I had to lock Brennan inside his room."

"Did you lock the windows, too?"

"His windows are grilled."

Grilled and hot, alright.

"What if he calls your parents to rat you out?" I asked with wide eyes.

"He can't do that," he fished out something from his coat, "I have his phone right here. He really needs to watch where it goes." Amusement went wild in his eyes, as if he had pulled out the biggest heist in history.

I nodded, convinced that Brennan wouldn't be disturbing our time together or destroying the house. But Jackson hadn't eaten his churro yet – it just sat there in his hand. "Why aren't you eating your churro?" I asked, "It doesn't have marshmallows on it, you don't have to be afraid."

He wore an annoyed look, "I was busy talking, sorry." He bit into the churro, chewing furiously.

"Anyway," said he, "You haven't told me about your adventure this morning yet."

"Only if you tell me about these mop shoes," I chuckled.

And so I recounted everything to him. From the sweat-infested van to the time-out room. He found the events amusing, and I also had myself laughing as I told him. Watching him happy as I told him the story made me happy, too.

"At least you had a butterscotch bar," he said.

"And churros," I raised the cup I was holding, got one, and dipped it in chocolate. It tasted utterly heavenly in my mouth.