Blonde hair tumbled from her ponytail in waves that served as a painful reminder of the warmth of the sun, sea and sky she yearned to be surrounded by. The salt spray that clung to her hair, the fresh ocean breeze that filled her lungs: it called to her. But she couldn't answer; today was determined to keep her toes away from the sand and wood grain of her surfboard, to lead her away from familiarity and into the open arms of fate.

The tall windows of her family's bakery filtered blistering, late summer sunlight through their panes before splashing it across the flour-dusted floorboards. A pencil sketched lazily intricate doodles across a page, a radio played soft tunes throughout the cafe and she hummed the accompanying melodies as she worked. 'Worked' is a pretty loose term though considering that the bakery was as desolate as it could be. Not even the scents of her mom's infamous banana bread, fresh blueberry muffins, glazed fruit tarts or chocolate-laden cookies that filled every inch of the room and spilled out onto the street outside could tempt any possible customers. The only people she had interacted with today had been an elderly lady asking for directions, a rather persistent fruit fly that couldn't work out where the window was again and a stray tabby cat she fed a can of tuna to. Despite her mom deeming her fit to take charge of the business for the day whilst she and her dad shopped for new furniture, this wasn't exactly how she wanted to be spending the tail-end of her summer.

Her mind wandered to her friends at the beach, baking themselves in the sun as they splashed through the surf and lounged on a rainbow array of towels. But the tinkling ring of the bell above the bakery's door dragged it back to reality. Startled, she dropped her pencil and snapped the book closed. She straightened up to greet them but her stomach clenched as soon as she realised who it was.

"Uh, you guys open?"

Strange, it didn't sound like him. The almost comical accent she always heard him sporting seemed to have slipped.

"Ye- I mean yes, yes we are. Just a little…slow today, I guess."

She wrung her hands together below the counter to stop them trembling, but that didn't stop the shaking in her voice. Immediately kicking herself for getting so scared, she managed a small, albeit apprehensive smile.

"You uh… You guys do stuff for lunch?"

"Well I- uh, we have sandwiches."

Grabbing a menu from the counter she held it out to him like she was feeding a wild animal. He took it from her and she snatched her hand back before he could notice how badly it was shaking. She watched him warily as he scanned the menu, hating every second she felt her nerves eat into her a little more. He was just a biker, underneath all the usual bravado he was just another teenager like her. And besides, Lela and Tanner had been dating for at least a month now, this rivalry with the bikers and surfers had been put to bed. Sadly, the underlying tension hadn't.

The longer she stood and waited though, the more she began to realise that it wasn't just his voice that was different to what she was familiar with. His whole image felt strangely alien to her. Free from grease, his hair flopped down over his forehead, an oil-stained flannel hung open over a white t-shirt without a trace of bold leather or red fabric to be seen. The only thing that remained ever-true about the man in front of her were the scuffed biker boots lazily laced at his feet.

"You mind makin' me one? I don't wanna put you out of your way just for a sandwich."

Her gaze somewhat sheepishly rose back to meet his. It felt odd for him to be considerate. She could tell he felt awkward too. Perhaps that was the cause of the concern.

"You wouldn't be. I'm not exactly busy."

"You sure?"

She nodded, causing the stray strands of her messy ponytail to bounce at the sides of her face. He mustered a smile then. A rather placid smile, but a smile nonetheless. It wasn't something she'd seen him sporting very often, not like this anyway. Her shoulders relaxed and she felt her stomach unclench ever so slightly. He wasn't nearly as intimidating without all the leather, greasy crew members and smouldering grimaces.

"I'll take a bacon, lettuce and tomato then."

"You want that to go?"

She really didn't want to be the person to keep the big, bad biker boy waiting.

"...You want some company?"

Wait, did she imagine that? Or was he being serious?

"I...uh...I guess it would be nice. It gets pretty lonely in here sometimes."

He shuffled on the spot for a second, seemingly toying with the idea in his head. The Rodent with a hefty reputation and cool-as-ice attitude battling with this attentive, yet laid-back young man she still couldn't quite believe existed beneath the jet black aviators.

"...Well your company's arrived."

Stepping back out of the tiny kitchen, sandwich in hand, she found him perched on one of the barstools that lined the counter, playing with the corner of a paper napkin he had helped himself to. She slid the plate in front of him and shyly took a step back. After spending years trying to avoid kids like him, suddenly being faced with one in her empty bakery was rather jarring. Sure he was company and offering to be such was surprisingly kind, but now that he was actually here she didn't have a clue what to do.

After a quick 'thanks' and a few seconds of silence as he tucked into his food, he spoke up. "Is this like a summer job then?"

"Oh, uh, no. My family owns this place, they just didn't have anyone else to run it for the day. Usually my mom or aunt will be here taking orders, if that's who you were expecting."

"Nah, I wasn't expecting anyone; today's the first time I've seen this place. I just needed to grab something to eat on my lunch break 'cause I left mine at home. Lela's gonna kill me when I get back."

"Lunch break?"

"Yeah, I started workin' at the auto shop a couple of blocks down last week."

"For the summer?"

He let out a soft chuckle. "I hope not. Kinda hoping it's pretty permanent; I don't have any other plans and Lela's dreams of going to college aren't gonna pay for themselves."

Right, he'd just graduated. Even though she'd be in the same position he was at this time next year, the thought of being totally independent from school and the restrains of any remainders of childhood terrified her to say the least. There was something secure about the boredom of classes and late afternoon surf sessions with her friends, something she couldn't bear to think about letting go.

"Well are you enjoying it so far?" Hoping for an optimistic answer, she brightened her smile a little.

The chuckle returned. It had worked. "Yeah, sure. It's cars and bikes, I know it all like the back of my hand."

Then, to her dismay, the conversation fell flat. She knew absolutely nothing about cars and bikes other than that Rascal's car, which she caught a ride to the beach in every day, started to smell funny if he left it running for too long, so she couldn't really contribute anything useful. Not that he seemed to care; continuing to eat his sandwich without another glance in her direction.

Sheepishly she took a small step back and let her gaze fall to the floor. A sigh escaped her lips as the uneasiness of the atmosphere tore at her skin. This was ridiculous. He was just a human like her, there was no reason she should treat him any differently and there was no reason for him to do the same to her. Seconds passed as she mustered up enough courage to speak again but they dragged like hours. The back of her neck prickled with heat, she felt her cheeks flare red, but she spoke nonetheless. She may be small, but she was courageous. And apparently blatantly obvious.

"This is, uh, this is pretty awkward, huh?"

"What?"

"...This. Just us two...talking."

"...Yeah, I guess. It's not often I talk to one of you guys."

"You mean a surfer?"

He nodded through a mouthful of bread and her brow furrowed. A sense of indignation stirred in her stomach as the situation stewed. She was just another clone in his eyes: a dim-witted boogie boarder just like all her other friends and something about that made her ashamed, with herself and with him.

"Is that all you see me as?" she asked. Her tone had changed; no longer meek and polite, there was a bite to it.

"...What do you mean?" He seemed puzzled, then concerned when he noticed her change in expression.

"Do you really just see me as a surfer and nothing else? Are we all just the same to you?"

It took him a few seconds to answer, which surprised her; he seemed to be trying to think of an acceptable answer. "Well I don't really know you for much else. Like I said, it's not often I talk to you guys. I just stick with my crew."

"...It's pretty sad how we all still do that after everything Lela and Tanner did though, don't you think? They tried so hard to unite us all and after a week we all just went back to how it was before."

"We tolerate each other to keep 'em both happy. That's about as far as it went with my crew."

"'Tolerate'? That's as far as you guys will go? We're all human, the only thing that separates us is whether we like to ride a bike or a board, but we can't so much as hold a conversation because of some dumb rivalry we were all brought up on. It's stupid."

"Well I hate to break it to ya but I think we're holding a conversation right now," he replied after a few seconds, shooting her a teasing smirk as her frown melted into shock.

"I guess you're right. We don't really have much choice though; I'm the only other person in here."

"I had a choice. I could have gone back to the shop to eat with the guys in there... but here I am."

"...Yeah, you're right," she said, bashfully dropping her gaze and letting out a small, breathy laugh.

"And for the record, just 'cause my crew don't necessarily like all of you guys doesn't mean I don't. It's not always easy but if it makes Lela happy to give you guys a chance, I'm gonna try."

"You really care about her, don't you?" she said, smiling fondly to herself.

"Course I do, she's my baby sister."

"Well if anyone was going to be the one to get you to change your heart about the surfers it was always going to be Lela."

"Is it that obvious how she's wrapped me 'round her little finger?" he chuckled, somewhat embarrassed judging by the light flushing of his cheeks.

"Not in that sense, but it's really clear how much you two care about each other. It's sweet."

"I've been called a lot of things, but 'sweet' ain't ever been one of 'em," he smirked, seemingly amused.

"Well I didn't mean it like that I just-" She began to stumble over her words again, nervous she'd stepped across a boundary she had blindly been trying to avoid.

But to her relief he just chuckled again. "I don't mind… Just don't let my crew hear you say it."

"Alright," she said, finding herself chuckling along with him. Her blush had returned too. It felt strange talking to him so comfortably like this, but it was a good strange. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but all the courage that she had built up to initiate the conversation and the delight that it was a success so far had manifested as the distinct 'fuzzy feeling' in her stomach: warm and rewarding. "I wouldn't want to get in the way of that reputation of yours."

"I wouldn't want you to either," he snorted.

"I don't mess with people in general but a guy with a motorcycle called 'Butchy' is definitely not the kind of person someone like me would want to get tangled up with."

"Why? Too much of a bad influence?" He had a mischievous glint in his eye and that smirk of his was back.

"Not...necessarily. Just not someone I'd want to...get on the wrong side of." She struggled to answer, perhaps because she didn't even know what she meant herself. In a hope to ease some of the tension she seemed to have loaded into the conversation, she tried to add a little stab at humour. "My friends have been there and they said it wasn't much fun."

"Yeah, he sounds like a jerk, I'd stay away from him if I were you." His voice dripped with sarcasm but his confidence swelled; leaning back, squaring his shoulders and broadening that cheeky smirk.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"I know, I'm only teasing. And I know you're not taking me seriously anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"Well you're still here, aren't you?" He raised an eyebrow inquisitively as she giggled and dropped her gaze again. He could still tell she didn't feel totally comfortable around him though. Rather guiltily, he felt he should try to get to the bottom of it. "...I'm not as bad as you think I am, you know."

"I...I never said that you're bad."

"I know, but I can tell it's what you're thinking."

"I've grown up being told to stay away from bad boys with leather jackets and motorcycles, so when I've only ever known you to be on your bike in all that leather...that's all I've seen: a bad boy called Butchy." She paused and took a deep breath. Her gaze remained fixed to the counter; she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Somehow she could still tell he was hurt. "And I'm sorry for that."

That, however, surprised him. "Sorry? What are you sorry for?"

"For not being a better person. For not wanting to look past all that. For judging someone on their appearance and who they are around their friends... Because you're not like that at all."

"You think?"

"Yeah. You haven't done anything today that would make me think you're a bad guy."

"Well I've ditched the leather and bike, you might change your mind again when you see me back like that," he chuckled bashfully. He finally managed to catch her eye long enough to give her a genuine smile: a smile that lit up his eyes and creased his cheeks.

She noticed a smear of oil along his cheekbone and found herself smiling back as if by instinct. The warmth in her stomach stretched throughout her whole body, enveloping her in an embrace. It almost felt as if a light had been turned on.

"I'm still called Butchy though," he added, drawing a small laugh from her lips. "Can't do much about that."

"You could always change it, nicknames don't have to be forever… It is a nickname right?"

That was the first time she'd heard him laugh properly. It wasn't like the shy laughs she'd heard so far today and it certainly wasn't like the laughs when he was fooling around with his friends. There was something fascinating about it, to see him as carefree as he was. She liked it.

"Yeah, it's just a nickname, thank God," he laughed, finally managing to catch his breath a little.

"Well I thought I'd better check," she giggled. "So how'd you get it?"

"I just thought it made me sound tough when I was... God, how long ago was it now? Probably middle school, so I was like eleven. I didn't like my name and I guess sounding like a tough guy was more important to me back then than being myself."

"Why don't you like your name?"

"Back then I just didn't think it was cool enough. There was a kid in my class called Ryder and I was so jealous; Joey doesn't quite have the same ring to it."

"Wait you're name's Joey?"

"Shit I didn't mean to say that. You're sworn to secrecy now, you cannot tell anyone else, okay? Some of the Rodents don't even know that, so you've gotta keep that quiet." She could tell he wasn't as serious as he was making out he was though because that smile of his lingered on despite his best efforts to hide it.

"Okay, okay, it'll just be our little secret," she giggled.

"You gotta swear it...Giggles? That's what your friends call you, right? I ain't just made that up, have I? I'm sure I've heard 'em call you that."

Now it was her turn to laugh, or in this case giggle. "Yeah, that's right. Looks like you're not the only one with a goofy nickname."

"How'd you end up with yours then?"

"Do I really need to explain it?"

"Yeah okay, I guess you do giggle a lot," he chuckled.

"It's not annoying?"

"Nah, I like it," he said, mustering yet another smile. "You gotta have a real name though and since I shared mine…"

"It's Genevieve, which sounds a lot fancier than it is. I just get called Jenny by my family."

"Genevieve? I wasn't expecting that."

"No one ever is really, it feels too formal for me."

"No, I think it's great. Hell of a lot cooler than Joey anyway," he laughed.

She joined in, but she didn't necessarily agree. "Not for me, I like Joey… He sounds like a nice guy." The blush on his cheeks disappeared before she could relish it, but she knew it was there.

"And Genevieve sounds like a princess," he smirked, letting the mischievousness glimmer behind his gaze again.

"Okay, okay," she chuckled, before composing herself again. "But just for the record...I do like Joey. It suits you, well this you, a lot more than Butchy does."

"Thanks...I think," he said, letting out a snort of laughter. The room was lulled into silence yet again, but this time it felt comfortable. Smiles settled onto their faces and the warmth from the sunlight that still tumbled through the window soaked into their bones. Neither one wanted to move, but a quick glance towards the clock on the wall told Butchy otherwise. "Uh, you going to be in here again tomorrow?" he asked, hopefully lifting his gaze from his crumb-scattered plate.

"No." His hope was shattered in one word and she deflated having to say it. "My mom will be here tomorrow. I'll be back at the beach; I think some of us are going to drive down the coast a little and have a picnic."

"Right… Well enjoy," he said, mustering a dejected, yet genuine smile.

But Giggles could sense the disappointment laced in his words. "You know, my mom would still make you a sandwich if you wanted one."

"Nah, it's fine. Lela will be more eager than ever to make sure I've got my lunch with me." It wasn't the sandwich he wanted to return for though. That was just a bonus.

"You heading back to the shop then?" she asked, disappointment edging into her own voice now.

"I'd better; my lunch break ends in a couple of minutes."

"You'd better get going then, I'd hate to make you late."

"Don't worry, it's only a few blocks away." Something told her that he was trying to linger as long as he could. Suddenly that fuzzy warmth in her stomach returned.

"...This was really nice," she said, smiling shyly. "Thanks for keeping me company, Joey."

"Any time, Genevieve," he smirked.

"...If I could do it again, I would," she said, hoping it would make leaving a little bit easier. She would have gladly come back in to work again if she knew she'd get to talk to him like this again. Who knows what she'd find out next time? But she knew how excited her friends were about this picnic. She couldn't let them down.

"So would I… How does the diner across town sound then?"

Hold on. Had she heard that right?

"...What?"

"Thursday night okay?"

She nodded but her brain was still trying to comprehend his previous question. Clearly her subconscious had grabbed the reins to steer her in the right direction whilst her brain and heart recovered.

"Great, I'll see you at seven, Genevieve."

And with that and an earth-stopping wink, he was gone, grinning smugly into the afternoon sunshine.

Her head was left spinning. She couldn't believe what had just happened. She couldn't believe they had spoken in the first place, let alone the fact that they were going to again. And she certainly couldn't wrap her head around the implications of this second outing and its possible labels. Her heart raced. The blood pounded in her ears. A thousand butterflies were released to wreak havoc in her body. But then her eyes landed on the leather jacket she didn't realise he had come in with. The leather jacket that was still slung over the neighbouring stool to the one he'd been sat on. Clearly he had been so fixated on setting up their dat- get together he had completely forgotten about it. He was too far away to call back though and she couldn't leave the shop unattended.

She could close a little early though…

Butchy trudged to his peg in the back room at the end of the day and stood in despair when he saw it was empty. His keys were in there, not only for his bike but for his house. He couldn't get back home or get in it. Shit, his wallet was in there too. And the jacket hadn't exactly been cheap itself. Frantically he tried to retrace his steps, and all too suddenly realised he knew exactly what had happened to it. He glanced out the window and saw the blue sky already beginning to bleed into baby pinks. There was no way in hell the bakery would still be open now, but there was a chance she might still be there closing it up. He bolted for the door but almost immediately skidded to a halt to avoid a collision with his boss, who had appeared in the doorway.

"You're off in a hurry, Bianchi," he said gruffly.

"I left my jacket at a cafe over lunch, I need my bike keys to get home," he said, praying the man would step aside to give him way. The seconds seemed to crawl by, each grating against his patience.

"Good job that nice young lady dropped it off for you half an hour ago then," his boss said, grinning impishly at him before presenting the jacket and clapping him on the back. "And it's a good job you screw your head on as tightly as the bolts on a bike; I've got a feeling you'd leave it at home otherwise."

"Thanks Sir." He breathed a sigh of relief and they shared a smile as he left the room. He slipped on the jacket and reached into the pocket to grab his keys, but instead his hand brushed against a small slip of paper. He didn't remember that being in there before. Out of curiosity he took it out and studied the neat cursive and little sketch of the Rodents logo before his face broke into a grin and that same warmth flooded his body.

'I thought I owed you an answer as well as your jacket. Thursday sounds great. I can't wait - G'

Well, well, well. Long time no see, huh?

I honestly didn't think I'd ever come back on here but a lovely PM and a brilliant idea sparked my inspiration again. So Giulia, this is for you.

-cherrygorilla