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“Every time,” Parker laughed with a shake of his head, “why is it that you always forget Tabasco and I forget the creamer?” He stirred the sugar in as his spoon clinked against the ceramic lip of his mug.
“I don’t know, I think that’s why we make a good team.” I replied, knowing full well the reason. For me, it was a ritual. I’d always forget Tabasco on purpose, anticipating whether Parker would remember or not. He always did, and I in turn ordered the creamer. As silly as it felt, I enjoyed how he cared to remember both me and my taste. I wondered if the same was true for him, though I had the feeling it was purely by accident. “Speaking of tradition…” I said out loud, as the thoughts in my head spilled over into real spoken words.
“Tradition?” Parker questioned, placing his suit jacket over the top of our booth.
“Oh, nothing.” I corrected, removing the cap of hot sauce placed on the table, “I’m just wondering what you did wrong.” I teased, dabbing dots of red liquid over my bed of hash browns.
“Wrong?” Parker asked, pouring the creamer. “Are you the lawyer or me?” He took a sip.
I glanced over at his plate, my brows knitted in suspicion, “Clearly you did something wrong, why else would you be punishing yourself? Exhibit A.” My potato filled fork pointed to a square cut of salmon on his plate, its pink hue sat atop a heap of steamed zucchini. “What’s with the change? Or better yet, where is Parker, and what have you done with him? You hate seafood!”
Parker took a bite, his face turning sour as he tried to answer. “Broadening my horizons.” He sneered. He chewed like he was avoiding his tongue, keeping the salmon on a path from teeth to stomach. I slid a piece of hot bacon onto his plate, giving him a wink.
“For when you come to your senses.” I watched, making sure he took a bite, relishing in the joy the flavor gave him. “You’ll need your strength for work,” I noticed, of course, his formal attire, and how he filled the lines of his fitted white shirt. “I still can’t believe you’re going in on a Saturday. My god, you’ve been so busy, I haven’t even seen you all week! What time did you get in last night?” I sacrificed another piece of bacon, just to see him smile once more.
“Late.” He chewed, “You won’t even believe what’s happening. I’ve been busting my ass on this new case, and I’m hellbent on making a statement.” He pushed his zucchini around, unimpressed. “Winning this case means maintaining my reputation. It’s a big fish. I’ll leave it at that.”
My eyebrow arched, and Parker sighed, knowing my affinity for his job and the gossip it included. “What did they do?” I leaned in, curling a loose whip of hair that fell from my bun.
“No…” Parker raised his hand, “I’m not a true crime podcast; I have a code of conduct.”
“Lawyers have a code of conduct?” I joked.
“Ouch.” He grasped his chest as if struck.
“Kidding!” I smacked his hand as he reached for another piece of bacon. The dimple on his cheek creased as I pursed my lips.
“Honestly, I want to just fast forward, to win against this asshole and ruin his day. Consider it my championship fight.” His jaw clicked at the wordfight. He reached up, assessing the smoothness of his cheek, his wrist wrapped in a sleek leather watch. He wasn’t stressed, but rather focused, his clean-cut appearance a hallmark to a new mental state. This was the lawyer, the man who already made a name for himself within such little time.
I feared if I stared any longer, my admiration would be too apparent. I adjusted in my seat as the skin that peeked from my short, floral skirt stuck to the booth. He made me sweat with his words as I crossed my legs.
“Well, before you take over the world, remember I got us tickets to see thePhantom of the Opera…” I wobbled my head, enjoying the taste of cheesy eggs.
“I wouldn’t miss it, but I wish you had let me pay. You can save money since you're with me.”
With me, the way he said it felt so close, its interpretation different than intended. Enjoying breakfast was a routine pleasure, allowing me to keep the fantasy of us alive in my head. Living with him was different though, I knew it’d be tough, especially with comments like that. Honestly, it made my belly ache.
“It’s no problem. It was my turn to pay. You got last year’s tickets, remember?” I brushed my thoughts away, “I had them on reserve, anyway, and I got the same seats from when we first saw it.”
“Just like every year.”
“Exactly.” I confirmed, his eyes were so tender, disrupted only by the taste of salmon entering his mouth. I’m sure the flavor was awful, but I would’ve kissed him regardless if he asked. I’d take any excuse to feel his lips on mine.
Stop it, Gemma.
“Tell me.” He announced, as if catching my thoughts.
“About?”
“About your interview? Please tell me you said no to that parasite.” He placed his empty coffee mug at the edge of the table, eagerly looking back. “I know I’ve been out all week, but I was tempted to wake you up and ask.” He stated, but quickly clarified the reason he didn’t, “but your rest is most important, Butterfly, so I waited.”
I fought the urge to suck on my lip, “Well… I certainly didn’t get the job, and actually I’m happy about that.”
“That’s good.” He sighed, his shoulders lowered in ease.
“Yes and no. Well, something else happened, but I don't think it's anything real.” I added, unsure if it was even worth the explanation.
“Now I’m interested. Tell me.”
