Summer Doesn't Last Forever | ✓

Chapter 31: Then Let's Do This

Ryder looks down at the manila envelope resting idly in his hand with a confused look on his face. After a few minute, Ryder looks up at me, and raises his eyebrow. “Should I open it?”

I nod quickly, “Yeah, open it.”

Ryder flips the envelope over in his hand and then unlatches the little silver clipping on it. He reaches in it and then pulls out a thin stack a paper. He puts the envelope down on the table, and I watch curiously as his brown eyes scan across the paper slowly, reading the papers carefully.

Basically what it means to be served when a process server serves legal documents for their clients. I’m assuming that the guy who delivered the papers is a process server. If you get served from a process server, it usually means you are most likely being called to court. Accepting these documents is a binding contract and once you accept them, you must show up to court or else they will put out a warrant for your arrest, and if and when they catch you, they’ll take you to jail.

Ryder puts one of the papers down, and then scans over the second one. After a few seconds - twenty approximately - Ryder puts the papers back together and slides them in the envelope. He puts his hand in his brown hair, messing it up.

          “Damn.” He mutters.

          “What does it say?”

          “I’ve gotta go to court,” Ryder says, shaking his head.

          “How come?”

          “DWI,” He answers. Driving while intoxicated. “Apparently if I hadn’t gotten in the accident and a police would have pulled me over, I would have been arrested for it.”

          “So when do you have to go to court?”

          “Tomorrow.”

          “Tomorrow?”

He nods, “Tomorrow.”

          “They won’t take you to jail, I’m sure of it.” I say, more for myself than him.

Ryder sighs, “Hell, I hope not.”

          “Come on, let’s go.” I say, standing up.

          “Don’t you wanna finish?”

I shake my head, “No, it’s okay. I’m full.”

          “Okay,” Ryder says, standing up as well. He pulls his wallet out of his suit pocket and opens it. He takes out two twenties and puts them along with the bill on the table. I look down at it, $34.24.

          “You want 17.12 of that back?” I ask him, “I have some money on me.”

He cocks his head to the side, “Why would I want 17.12?”

          “It’s half of 34.24.”

Ryder nods, and chuckles, “No, it’s okay. I’m your boyfriend, I’ll pay for the dinner. I don’t mind.”

          “You’re sure?”

          “Of course,” He says, grabbing my hand as we walk out of the restaurant.

Either being a lifeguard pays more than I thought or Ryder has a second job, because he always seems to have money on him. And he never even goes to work. That’s the crazy thing. Like I actually go to work, and I don’t even have as much money as he appears to. I guess his job just pays more than my minimum wage one does. Speaking of which, I should call Helen and tell her that I’ll be back now that Ryder’s okay-ish.