Twice The Trouble Book 2 of 2: Twice The Love

Chapter 42: Someone Else

Sophia

I insisted that Stacy head home despite her reservations of leaving me alone in my misery. I knew she had tons of homework to finish, and with one reluctant squeeze on my arm, she kissed my cheek and told me to keep her updated on where I was and what I was doing.

It was a few minutes past nine and I was still in Snack Attack, seated at one of the blue, round tables, trying hard not to cry too much. All the neighboring stores and shops were closing up, and I winced at the loud banging and shattering of metal walls being dragged down to the floor.

"You're overreacting, you know," said the only person besides me still in the restaurant. He was in charge of locking up, so he had no choice but to stay behind.

I remained quiet, bowing my face into my palms, the tips of my fingers massaging my aching forehead. I was excited--so excited for what should have transpired tonight. Lucas and I were supposed to buy one bucket of cheesy popcorn each because we always emptied one bucket during the opening trailers. We had this rule where we had to avoid going to the bathroom so we wouldn't skip any part of the movie, which was why we always ordered a regular-sized soda with two straws. The straw thing may have been irrelevant since we keep getting confused on which one was ours.

And halfway through the film, Lucas would attempt to drape his arm around my shoulders but I would quickly lean into him before his hand touched my shoulder. Afterwards, we would have dinner at a nearby restaurant, followed by a leisure walk under the moonlight. The evening breeze would make me shiver, and Lucas, gentleman that he is, would put his jacket on me.

We haven't had a date in a week because we've been to busy with work, school, family, friends.. basically, everything. Our schedules were too tight and hectic that squeezing in date time was next to impossible.

I let out a weary sigh. I sniffled into the back of my hand before I rose from my chair and slung my green backpack over my shoulders.

"At least use this," said Laurence, and I looked down to see his hand offering me some tissues which he got from the napkin dispenser on the counter.

"Thank you," I told him with a weak but grateful smile. I accepted the tissues from him and used it to blow my nose.

I threw the used tissues into a nearby trash can, then I took idle steps out of the restaurant.

My brown eyes watched as Laurence swiftly slid down the metal door, securing Snack Attack from intruders. He bent down, his back facing me, and he clasped a trusty padlock connecting the wide gray door and the little hook merged on the side of the regular door frame.

When the black-haired teenager spun around, he looked taken aback to see me before him. His gray eyes swept over my sullen face. "Why are you still here?" he asked bluntly.

I shrugged my white-clad shoulders. "Never mind," I said, feeling utterly naive to think he might offer to at least escort me out of the desolate mall. This guy was so confusing sometimes. I couldn't decode his hot and cold personality even if it took me a decade to do so.

By the time I exited the mall to hail a jeep, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I quickly grabbed my assailant's wrist, then twisted it around, disengaging him from any further movements.

"Ah! Shit, that hurts!" he cursed in pain. "Let go!"

I instantly recognized the man's voice. I whirled around and saw Laurence rubbing some feeling back into his strained wrist. "S-sorry, Laurence," I stammered, frowning at him in apology.

"Damn,you have surprising strength for a small body," he grunted with a grimace.

I stared at him, a red question mark bobbing above my brown head. "Sorry," I repeated, sincerely. "You're heading home, too, right?" I asked him.

Laurence held my gaze. "No, I was wondering if you wanted to grab some dinner."

Tilting my head to one side, clutching the green handles of my backpack, I eyed him quizzically. "Sure. We have no classes tomorrow anyway because our professors have a seminar, and I'm supposed to be home by eleven but it's only nine thirty so---"

"You're really talkative," he cut me off. "Come on." He began walking to the parking lot, and I followed closely behind him.

We rode his black Honda to Rice Paradise, a place where they served a combination of processed meat, fried egg, and fried rice, as well as other varieties of rice like white, garlic, and brown rice.

When we entered the restaurant--pale orange walls,white tiles, square tables--we saw a few people standing in line, looking up at the menu board illuminated under the farm of fluorescent lights.

"So what do you want?" asked Laurence, standing in front of me in the short queue.

I looked up at the menu board, deciding what to order. "I'll have.. Combo CB." Corned beef with bacon, fried rice and egg.

"Really?"

I pouted my lips. "What's wrong with that? Corned beef is delicious, especially when it's hot."

"Nothing. I just have something else in mind. Anyway, you can get us some seats."

"Yes, boss," I quipped, turning on my flat gray heel to search for a vacant table.

After he placed our orders on the square table, Laurence sat across me.

I asked him: "What did you order?"

"Pork and egg," he answered with a condescending glance at my plate.

I arched a brow at him. "What was that?"

"What was what?" he played dumb.

"That look you gave my food! Explain yourself," I said in fake anger.

His gray eyes fell on the crispy strips of bacon on my fried rice.

"You don't like bacon?" I stared at him, my mouth agape.

"Bacon is so overrated," said Laurence, leaning back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest. "It makes other processed meats look bad. Why don't sausages, hotdogs, and hams get the same praise as bacon does?"

"Are you seriously fighting for equality for all processed meats?"

"Possible," he replied.

"It's not bacon's fault it's delicious," I said, defending my meal. "It was created to bring joy to everyone."

"I disagree," opposed my companion.

"You're saying that maybe because you haven't tasted bacon all your life."

Laurence froze.

"Aha! You've never had bacon, have you?" I rested my elbows on the table and I linked my fingers together, my chin sitting on the back of my hands.

"Because it's wrinkly and greasy," he complained, making a disgusted face. I thought he was bluffing about never eating bacon at all, so I was flabbergasted to be proven wrong.

"Just eat a strip of bacon first," I urged him. "Then we'll argue." I forked a juicy strip of bacon from my plate and transferred it to his plate.

Hesitantly, Laurence sliced the strip of bacon into half and ate it. He closed his eyes as he chewed it. After swallowing the piece of meat, he said: "Don't say it."

"What?" I asked innocently even though I knew what he was talking about.

"Fine. Bacon is good."

"Aren't you going to apologize?" I waited expectantly.

Laurence's gray eyes studied my face to check if I was joking, and when he saw that I wasn't: "..I'm sorry," he grumbled.

"Not to me." I eyed the bacon on his plate.

He raised an eyebrow before finally laughing. "Alright. I'm sorry, bacon."

"Don't judge a book by its cover, right?" The grin on my face didn't fade all throughout our meal.