Ave Michaels is an out-and-proud cynical romantic who never had her heart broken (considering she has to fall in love first.)
That is until, in order to get published, she has to prove she's a versatile writer by writing a romance novel.
Throw in a...
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"In Which Reality is a Terrible Match Made in The Garage"
(Pt. 2)
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(Still)The Garage, Downtown Square
6:27 PM
It took me a second before the basis of that reference ever so ungracefully dawned on me.
Then, another half to slap my hand across my tactless mouth.
Pops does those things!
I unconsciously scratch the back of my upper arm, my toes squirming inside my shoes. "You know what I mean."
Pops turns away, clearly refusing to look at me.
Great.
I sigh in defeat, stuffing my hands in my coat pockets. "I'm gonna have to make it up to you, am I?"
"Big time," he grumbles, sounding a bit hurt.
Oof, this giant s'more of a bear! I pout at him, imitating Emile's go-to-sparkling eyes.
Pops stares at me and then takes a quick look at Atlas who was momentarily absorbed in his work. "I get the hint, kiddo."
He leans down, his face a few inches above my ear. "But, the eyes don't lie," he murmurs, just as I cast a surreptitious glance of my own. "Promise me, you'd be careful "
I sigh, and turn towards him, meeting his gaze.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. But, I promise to do that. Just, please, keep him away from me."
"Gee, I wonder why." He rolls his eyes — not quite the agreeing response I wanted.
I snappishly jiggle my head at him before spinning on my heel.
"At least I get to keep this one working here longer than the last one!" he calls after me.
I shoot him a narrow-eyed glare over my shoulder. "You and my friends make me sound like a femme fatale."*
Pops guffaws. "Jeep CJ7, Friday night! Bring some food. Invite Tia and your other friends if they want to come!"
I just wave at him, still walking towards the backdoor leading to the gym.
