What Comes Next

Chapter 22: Antoinelle

Chapter 22: Antoinelle

There once was a woman who said that God will never give us anything we can't handle so we shouldn't stress. Ignore the fact that we're talking about the same woman who won American Idol's first season and wrote a song about how what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. What about people who get into a horrible accident and won't ever be able to move again? You certaintly don't become stronger. But I do love myself some Kelly Clarkson, no matter if I can get morbid themes from her gold certified singles.

Someone might ask me why I'm stressing. After all, I have a [decidedly hot] boyfriend, a job at my local Starbucks (thanks to the supreme overlord), and I got not just passing but superior scores on my exams. I don't have anything to worry about until mid-January when I start my classes again.

No, none of this was my problem. Not even the fact that my father was going to visit me in two weeks. It's about Christmas. I had four days until Christmas. And I hadn't gone Christmas shopping for Leonardo yet. I don't even have the excuse of just getting back with him because I was going to get him one anyway.

My own mother was probably shaking her head at me. Whatever happened to the days of putting my presents under the tree weeks before Christmas? Where's the girl who sang Christmas carols as soon as Thanksgiving dinner was over? She's gone I guess. Left when all the drama of relationships and stress came and took over.

"You look upset. Did you and Mr. Jerk-Turn-Lover-Boy break up again? Because if he did, that's not the only thing that's going to broken after he meets Lola and Macbeth." Max raised his fists. I tsked. "Didn't I tell you that naming your right fist after a William Shakespeare tragedy wouldn't make it any more intimidating?"

Max shook his head and grinned at me. "I was focusing more on the point that there was a lot of murder and that the main character was beheaded." I rolled my eyes at him. Of course that's what he was thinking. I don't even know what I see in him. "Anyway," I told him, "my problem is about Christmas. I have no idea what to get Leonardo!"

"So he's Leonardo now?" He just had to keep going. I raised my fist. "Yes. Stop being a twat and help me or your going to meet Cena."

Max smirked at me. "Look at you. Naming your fist after the wrestling legend. And you call me crazy." I punched him on the shoulder. Max yelped and pouted. The customer in front of us looked at us weirdly before Max handed them their drink. "That's no way to treat your boss. Especially after I got you that awesome stamp that says 'Thanks for being' and then below there are boxes to check off that say either You or An A-" He stopped when I gave him the stink eye. "Hey! It just says...donkey butt hole. I wasn't going to curse. Don't make assumptions."

I slapped my forehead. Max was such an idiot. "Please don't do that Max. I don't want my boyfriend to commit murder."

"I don't know. It would depend on who I'm murdering." I turned around just as Leo smirked at me. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. "Hey." I smiled back at him and said, "Ditto. What are you doing here? I thought you took the breakfast and lunch shifts today?"

"I did. I'm just on lunch break. I would stay and chat but I promised Cara I would go to some funky health food place with her today. Had a good morning?" I nodded and smiled. "Yeah, thanks."

"And here's the point where I interrupt the two love birds to say, just like any good business man would, you break her, you pay." I groaned, stepping away to fetch the next order. "Max! You make me sound like I'm a piece of property."

He shurgged innocently. "We take and care for each other. 'Til death do us part and all that muck." Leo glared and said, "I can arrange that."

Max stepped foward. "Well-" I pushed myself in between them. "Chill boys!" I turned to the business-like lady at the counter. "Here's you're Iced Caffe Americano and Wheat Spinach Savory Square. Hope you enjoy!" As I waved goodbye and she walked away I heard her mumble, "Kids."