Chapter Six
Remember when I said we’d find out if Preston had a heart? He doesn’t; he absolutely does not have a heart. He is at this moment flirting with the lady at the ticket counter. I think he’s trying to get us bumped to first class, but she looks too smart to fall for it. After all, he’s being rather obvious.
Rolling my eyes in irritation, I turn toward Kristin just before I see Preston return to us with a large grin on his face. “Good news. Got us all bumped up to first class.”
“Super,” I answer. At least I get to sit next to Kristin while the boys talk shop. Picking up my phone, I decide to check my email while we’re waiting in line for security.
To fashionista2005@gmail
From: Firehottie2005@gmail
Hey Amanda,
It’s Bobby. I hope you don’t mind, I Facebooked you and got your email address off your page. I know we haven’t talked in awhile, but I thought it would be cool for us to hang out, maybe grab a bite to eat or something?
Let me know.
Strange, why is he so interested? Shaking my head, I smile to myself as I reply that I’ll contact him after my vacation in Hawaii.
“What are you smiling about?” Preston sneaks up behind me and peeks over my shoulder.
“Nothing,” I snap. “Has anyone ever told you how annoying you can be?”
“I only annoy people that deserve it. I hope that wasn’t an email from Bobby, but it looks to be his email address. Want to know how I know?”
“Nope and it’s none of your business.” I grab my stuff and push forward without looking at him.
“He’s a womanizer,” Preston answers without my asking him.
Spinning around to face him, I’m momentarily taken aback. I hadn’t realized how close our faces now were. Whispering so no one can hear me, “What makes you think that? Are you jealous?”
“Hardly.” He huffs. His mouth smells like peppermint. I’m momentarily dazed by his lips before I answer.
“Well, it’s not a big deal. Plus I’ve been down that road and back, thank you. I don’t wish to re-visit it.”
I turn my head and put my stuff on the security belt before taking off my shoes. Preston does the same, but I can tell by the way he’s looking at me that this conversation is far from over.
“What do you mean re-visit it? Have you dated that tool before?” He looks disgusted with the idea.
“It was a long time ago and I’ve changed.” Stepping through the metal detectors, I sigh as I hear the beeping sound. I take off all my jewelry including my earrings and rings and step through again. Preston watches in amusement as the beeping still goes off. Emptying my pockets, I continue to beep, so now I’m called by the uniformed officer, and I brace myself to be searched.
Preston walks through clean as a whistle, while I’m getting patted down by a man named Jorge. I weakly smile as the beeper stops at my belly button and goes off telling everyone within a safe distance that I’m either smuggling a gun in my pants or I have a piercing. Praying they think it’s a gun, I whisper to Jorge in hushed tones that I have a bellybutton ring.
“You must take off belly ring, ma’am.” His accent sounds Spanish. He uses his hands to show me that I need to lift my shirt. This can’t be happening, but it is so I slowly lift my shirt revealing a tiny belly button piercing. As if my embarrassment isn’t enough, he pulls out the beeper stick again and runs it over the piercing “just to make sure”.
Glancing over at Preston, I see his eyes are locked on my piercing instead of my face. He’s judging me. I was only eighteen and it was a rite of passage. I still remember Grandma Ned’s face when she found out that her grand-daughter had a hole in her belly button. She made me memorize the chapter in Proverbs that talks about the perfect woman as if to tell me that it was so far from what I was that it would do me some good to engrain it in my head.
Closing my eyes, I’m finally told I’m free to leave. Although Preston has an unreadable expression on his face, he has at least had the decency to grab all of my stuff. We waited for Kristin and Brad to go through then began heading to our gate.
“What an interesting piercing, Amanda,” Preston teases.
“I was eighteen.” It was useless to defend myself against this man.
“It’s funny; it shows you aren’t as controlled as you’d like people to think.” He leans down letting his peppermint breath fan my face and says, “I like it,” before catching up with Brad.
Kristin turns around noticing my discomfort and asks, too loud might I add, “Amanda why are you all red? Are you tired sweetie? Are you okay?” Why can’t women read each other’s minds? It would be so much easier on everyone. Preston’s laughing, I only know because though I’m behind him, I see his shoulders shake, translation, he’s barely able to contain his mirth. There’s no justice in the world, I hate that he knows how uncomfortable he makes me feel. It’s so inconvenient to wear your emotions on your sleeve.
We get to the gate in record time, meaning Brad was so obsessive about us getting to the airport two hours before our flight that we literally got to our gate two hours before boarding. This is not a good thing, there is not much to do while you’re in the Boise airport, except drink coffee and read magazines. If there were shops or at least bookstores I could find something to do. But a girl can only handle so many magazines and caffeine before a five hour flight.
Or can she? I notice that the coffee shop has already started selling their Christmas drinks. Well, one won’t hurt. Getting up, I go to the nearest stand and order a peppermint latte from a barista who looks less than pleased to have to put down her People magazine and help a customer. There’s something deathly wrong with society when people who are at work don’t want to work. When she finishes, I leave her a fifty cent tip hoping to cheer her up, but instead I get a weak smile and a “please come again”.
Rolling my eyes, I pass Preston who is thinking the same thing. Crossing my arms in frustration, I watch the barista jump up from her seat and ask him for his order. She twists her hair, yes twists her hair as if she is twelve, then tells him it's “no charge”. Before she hands him the coffee, I see her writing on the cup, with disgust I see a name and number next to the drink name. What is it with women throwing themselves at men? Particularly at Preston. He, with a sudden pep in his step, turns around toward me.
“Could you be any more disgusting?” Bumping into him to show my frustration, I roll my eyes while taking my seat.
“Excuse me for wanting free coffee? If it makes you feel better, I left her enough tip to pay for it and then some, if you’re thinking I’m a cheap person. Poor girl.” He smiled as he sipped his grande peppermint latte. We have the same taste in coffee? “Plus, I’m guessing if it would’ve been a guy you would’ve gotten something free, too.”
I think about this for a second then answer, “You're right, I would have.” Feeling better, I sip my coffee and look away.
“Challenge accepted!” He exclaims getting up from his seat next to mine.
“What do you mean challenge accepted?” This can’t be good.
He starts to pull me toward the down escalator as I turn around to yell for help from Kristin. But as per usual, she can’t read my mind. Therefore, she just waves at me as if I’m getting ready to go on a ride at Disneyland and bumps Brad as if to say, “Oh, look how cute they are going down the escalator.” The last thing she sees is me making a cut it out motion with my hand as my head ducks below to the first level.
“Look, a dude.” Preston points toward a nerdy-looking barista whose reading Theology Today with an interest I can only describe as a little too intense.
“Piece of cake.” Smoke is about to pour from my ears like a cartoon. To make myself feel better, I make the bet sweeter, for me. “I get a free coffee and you don’t talk to me the entire trip on the airplane.” I challenge.
“Deal.” He shrugs.
Pulling out my lip gloss, I put some on and approach the counter wearing my most flirtatious smile. “Hi.” I wave. Oh my word, I’m going to lose. Why did I just wave at someone right in front of me? My stomach churns as I think of the plane ride that’s at stake.
The barista lifts his eyes for just a second before dropping the magazine in front of him and taking a cup in hand. “What would you like, miss?” His voice squeaks on the miss making me pity him all the more. This is all Preston’s fault.
Clearing my throat, I try to engage him in conversation so I can flirt, or try to. “So...” I look at his name tag “John, that magazine looks pretty interesting. Are you studying to be a pastor?” He nods his head yes and blushes as I mentally high five myself for such clever flirting.
His expression turns serious again as he asks, “Did you want coffee or not?”
Laughing, I twist my dark hair around my finger playfully flirting with the poor guy.“Of course silly, that’s why I’m here.” I make a pretend pushing motion with my hand as if to say “you are so funny!” But he’s not having any of it, and he looks bored. How can I be more boring than Theology Today?
No offense.
“Umm,” I stutter. “Just a small black coffee.” Taking out the money, I begin to think of ways to ignore Preston. The Barista accepts my money and gives me some change. This time, I do not tip. I should have, but Preston would have seen it.
Walking back toward Preston, I keep my head down waiting for the jokes to hit, but instead Preston just looks at me with prideful eyes and shrugs. “It’s not because you weren’t pretty enough, you just made him too nervous.” He and I walk side by side to the elevators before he says, “He was probably afraid of being rejected.”
“Nope.” Why am I defending the coffee guy? “He was just more interested in his stupid magazine. Did you see me wave at him?”
He turns toward me and winks. “My favorite part.”
“Fine! You win, I lose. I hope you’re happy.” I down the entire contents of my cup and throw it in the trash.
“Oh no, you don’t get away that easy. There’s one other coffee shop upstairs. I say we give it a try. That is, unless you’ve faced enough rejection for the day?”
“Challenge accepted.” I mutter as we, yet again, pass Kristin and Brad. this time, however, they’re both looking in our direction smiling and tilting their heads as if to say, “Oh, look now they’re going for a walk. How cute.” We’ll have words later, you can bet on it.
We approach the dreaded destination to find two male baristas behind the counter. This should be fun.
“You don’t’ have to do this, you know,” Preston teased. “I promise I won’t tell anyone that theology boy rejected you.”
I hit him in his muscular shoulder, probably hurting my hand more than his body, and turn to face the music.
“Just be yourself!” Preston shouts after me as my face heats with sudden embarrassment.
Both baristas look up as I approach. By now you must have guessed that I’m extremely keyed up on caffeine. I’ve had one full cup of coffee along with two shots of espresso. The wise choice would be to order a snack or bread to soak up the sugar or I’ll be totally out of control in about ten minutes. There’s a valid reason for not drinking too much caffeine and pop. I have trouble shutting up when it’s in my system. You’re thinking, “Wow, Amanda, you already have that problem. How could it get worse?” To which I’m guessing you’ll soon find out that it can, indeed, get worse.
“What would you like, miss?” The first one asks. He’s quite good looking for a sixteen year old. There’s no way I should have ever thought that. I inwardly groan. I am so glad nobody can hear my thoughts. It reminds me of the time I went to the mall and saw a sign for Abercrombie and went “ooo he’s cute!” Not realizing that the sign was for the little kid Abercrombie, for kids under the age of eighteen. I was mortified, and of course, Grandma Ned was with me.
You can only imagine her response. If I remember correctly, my mouth got washed out with soap while I read the Old Testament section about sexual immorality. If you ever doubted it before, I got to know my Bible around Grandma Ned.
The cute underage barista is patiently waiting for my order. Clearing my throat, I order a bagel and decaf coffee, with cream. The first one types in my order while the other goes to work.
“Oh no!” The second barista yells. I quickly look in his direction, fully anticipating a scarring coffee burn.
“What’s wrong?” I ask trying to keep my voice even.
“Oh, I just used regular rather than decaf and already put it together, guess I’ll have to redo it.” He shrugs.
“No!” I yell using my outside voice. “It's fine. I’ll take it.”
The baristas look between each other as if I just ask them if they could spit in my drink, and then tell me nicely, “You don’t have to pay for the Americano then, it’s our fault.”
Walking away, I feel a confident grin begin on my face just as the first barista yells after me. “Miss! Miss! Sorry, but you still have to pay for your bagel!” My face tightens as Preston tries to unsuccessfully hide his laughter from me with his coffee.
Turning around, I walk back to the counter and slam two dollars onto the surface top telling them to keep the change. Then I strut past Preston with my head held high and bagel full in my mouth. He better not ask me to share. Trying not to focus on the fact that I’ve lost a bet to Preston, I sit down next to Kristin in a huff.
“So how was your walk or whatever or wait a second…” Her eyes lock onto my coffee then back at me, “How many of those have you had?”
Preston plops down next to me and laughs. “Three. Actually she’s had four shots of espresso and one cup of coffee, to be exact.” Amused he flips open the newspaper and smiles as Kristin stares at me with ice in her eyes.
“You know what caffeine does to you.” She hits Brad to involve him in the conversation sealing my fate.
“You did what?” He yells jumping out of his seat. “You know what caffeine does to you!”
“Preston dared me!” I protest in true teenage fashion while Preston looks innocently at both of our friends as if to say, “I have no idea what she’s talking about.”
“Just out of curiosity, what does Amanda do when she has too much caffeine?” Preston has now put down his newspaper. He’s staring at Kristin and Brad in anticipation of the story he knows they’ll probably blab.
“At least let me tell it so I know there are no exaggerations or falsifications.” I look Brad’s way causing him to look down in shame. He has a tendency to exaggerate everything.
“So it’s not that big of a deal. It only happened one time, and I’ve since learned my lesson.” Preston needs to understand that it isn’t a regular occurrence for me.
“You know what?” I say with heavy sarcasm. “I’m not going to tell and neither are you!” Pointing at both of my friends, I dare them with a silent glare. “True friends keep secrets; just know that you have nothing to worry about.”
Kristin eyes me as she turns back to Brad. “Okay, blue pants.”
“Shhhh,” I say patting her on the knee.
“Did you just call her blue pants?” Preston wants to know.
“Yeah, on account of the blue pants she rocked during her last caffeine surge. Those poor kids didn’t even see her coming.” Brad takes off his baseball cap and holds it to his chest as if the children died or something, and I feel my resolve weaken as I look again toward Preston.
“Fine, I drank a lot of caffeine then wanted to go play laser tag, wore blue pants to blend in to the blue walls in the laser tag place and stayed for three hours while I attacked small children with my laser gun.” I tried to let the words flow as fast as possible, hoping he wouldn’t’ catch all of it.
“She wouldn’t let us leave until she won.” Brad admits, re-living the event.
“We were so hungry.” Kristin holds Brads hand as they both lean in to touch heads.
“It was dark. Cold, so very cold.” Brad continues as he closes his eyes as if he’s traumatized.
“Ok. We’re done.” I say as I leave all of them and sit by myself to pout.
They’re laughing, and I try to keep the smile off my face.
It’s hard to stay mad at people who are so funny. With reluctance, I have to admit it has been the most fun vacation I have had in awhile, even if it’s been with Preston. But as I think this, I have a sickening feeling that I have a lot more “fun” to look forward to. I groan a little as I realize the caffeine is now hitting my stomach full force. I need the bathroom. Now.
As quick as possible, in efforts to not bring attention to myself, I get up then sprint toward the bathroom. See? Being a runner is useful and applicable in many situations. While in there, I decide to put on some more lip gloss then strut out finally feeling comfortable and able to carry on a descent conversation. It looks like the plane is already boarding. To be honest, I was a bit excited to be riding in first class, but you aren’t going to hear me say that to Preston. No, it would go straight to his head, and that’s the last thing this world needs.