The Bubblegum Motto ✓

-6-

Two weeks passed, and to say it was blissful was an understatement. It was then that I realized truly how fast summer was passing by and how much time I was spending with Nixon Park. I saw him nearly every day at Aquasky, and he would make the effort to come in even if his entire group doesn't. After the store locks up, he would take me to the beach, and we would enjoy the sunset all over again, just as if we were experiencing it for the first time.

I didn't know how his surf schedule worked, but bright and early in the morning, I would find Nixon amidst the beige walls, dressed in a thin, cotton tee shirt and a light jacket, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Instead of wearing his dark blue trunks, he was dressed in light grey shorts and pitch-black sneakers. His bright smile would be there to greet me in the morning, and I hadn't realized how much it brightened my day. Two meetings in, both Violet and Meredith were charmed by him, enjoying his presence just as much as I do.

After delivering the pizzas—with him making the effort to convince me that love does work—we would find the pleasure to just drive around town, the car rumbling underneath us and a comfortable silence surrounding us.

With him, everything was just so easy, whether it be starting a conversation or easing back into the silence. We fit like two pieces of a puzzle, and his presence was comforting, like there was always a figure to hold me up.

We hadn't gotten around to surf lessons for me yet, but he's brought me to Korean restaurants to introduce other Korean foods to me. I was intrigued by the culture the Koreans had, and that they were much more than just kimchi. In fact, I discovered my love for pajeon—essentially a seafood pancake—at one of his favorite Korean restaurants.

But most of the time, we would create some business for CrunchFest and stay after our deliveries for some delicious Hawaiian pizza. Luckily for the both us, we were in love with the idea of pineapples on pizza, deciding that it was a delectable addition to the pizza and a disgusting one.

Today was one of these days.

Nixon sat across from me in one of the luxurious booths at CrunchFest—or however luxurious a booth at a casual pizzeria could be—his brown eyes wide and his jaw dropped open. "How could you?" he gasped. "You're a monster!"

I shook my head in amusement. "No. You're a monster. Think about it. The milk with all those leftover cereal bits is just disgusting, and you drink that?!"

"Um, excuse you. It's heavenly."

I cringed at that, wrinkling my nose up in disgust at his comment. "You sound like a caveman."

Nixon gasped at that, his eyes rolling backwards and his palms placed over his heart. "Now that's offensive."

One thing I learned about Nixon and I was that we often had different opinions regarding food. Though we were fortunate enough to both love Hawaiian pizza, I hated cereal with milk and he was appalled by that fact. Then, there was the thing with spicy food, which he adores but I detest. "Good," I stated, wiping my oily fingers with the napkins placed next to me.

"Honestly, the more time I spend with you, the more my heart breaks," he pouted, his brown eyes wide and innocent.

I rolled my eyes at that comment, flicking him in the forehead. "That's good to hear."

"You're not very nice, are you?"

"So I've been told."

"Of course, you aren't. You're a person who doesn't eat cereal with milk. What do you eat cereal with then?!"

"Nothing!"

"So, you just eat dry cereal in the morning?!" Nixon sounded so appalled and disbelieving that I felt the need to just lie and say that I do eat cereal with milk, but where was the fun in that?