Chapter 3 - "Is this even real?"

60.8K 2.7K 769
                                    

The wind outside was fierce, but Amelia didn't notice. She moved away from Midnight Records's revolving doors and turned to Charlie. All the excitement she had kept in, burst from her in a giddy laugh. She grabbed Charlie's arms and bounced.

"Can you believe it!" she shouted.

Charlie's laugh was amused and his dimple winked at her. His messy brown hair wiped across his forehead, dropping over his rectangle black framed glasses.

"I just signed a writing contract with Sebastian Colfax!" Amelia said.

"I know, I was the one reviewing said document," Charlie said.

"A contract with Midnight Records!"

"Again, I was there."

"Is this even real?"

Amelia reached out and pinched Charlie.

"Owe! This is real," Charlie laughed. "I'm so proud of you!"

He pulled her in for a hug. Amelia pulled away as the moment settled.

"I wish they were here to see this," she said, her voice soft.

Charlie nodded, his smile going sad, his brown eyes filled with sympathy.

"They would be so proud of you Aims. Just like I am," he said.

"I know they would be. I just miss them more in big moments like this."

They stood quietly for a moment, memories of their parents filling the empty space between them. Charlie flung his arm around her shoulders, leading her down the sidewalk.

"Come on, superstar, we're going to celebrate," he said.

"Don't you have to get back to class?"

"I'm pretty sure I can miss one day of college. Besides its not like I wasn't going to sleep through half the classes anyways. At least this way, my professors won't be annoyed at my disturbing the other students."

Amelia laughed, her body feeling lighter than air.

Charlie reached out for the metal handle and pulled the door open for Amelia, a bell dinging over head. Laughter and chatter filled the air, as they walked in.

Al's Diner was a long narrow building with red vinyl booths on one side and a long counter with metal stools covered with the same red vinyl on the other. Through the air, wafted the smell of grilled onions, greasy fries and sizzling meat. A juke box at the far end emitted the dancing beat of a classic 80s song.

Charlie pointed to the only empty booth and they took it. A waitress walked over to them, a smile already on her lips.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked, placing two menus before them.

Her smiled widened as it moved from Amelia to Charlie.

"I'll have a Coke. Aims?" Charlie said.

"I'll have an orange juice," Amelia said.

The waitress scribbled the order down on her pad.

"I'll be right back with those."

She spun away, her tennis shoes making a soft squeaking noise on the linoleum floor. She gave Charlie one more glance before leaving,

"You know, you should wear a suit out more often, you would break more hearts," Amelia said, looking over the top of her menu.

Charlie let out a snort.

"They only smile because they think I must look this good all the time."

"Which we both know you don't."

Every Second [COMPLETED]Where stories live. Discover now