A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update. Having disc trouble... may have
lost my entire story... no biggie though. Will continue to type until 3am
with a glass of Sunny D by my side until I finish the file recovery. Due
to the loss of said file, there may be a few changes to this chapter or the
next depending on when and if I get my disc to work again. Now, bring on
Chapter 15!
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Chapter 15
The Date Part I:
Car Rides and Restaurants
A black Corvette sped past the 7 Eleven. Inside the Corvette, St. John was grinning ear-to-ear.
"This is great, ain't it, Aidan? I can't believe Remy lemme drive!" St. John announced, taking the 'Vette across the yellow lines as he rounded a curve.
"Neither can I!" Aidan yelled, holding onto the door handle for dear life. Her eyes bugged out of her head as they came face-to-face with a tractor- trailer truck. "Oh, Dear God!" she shrieked, abandoning the door handle to cover her eyes.
At the last second, St. John pulled the car into the right lane. When the sounds of screaming and twisting metal were absent, Aidan slowly peeked over her fingers.
"You crazy Yanks..." he said, "no wonda America's such a mess. Y'don't even drive on the right side o'the road."
The Bayville city limits sign passed by Aidan's window in a blur. "John... do you even have your driver's license?"
"My what?" he asked, swerving to miss a fire hydrant.
Aidan yelped in surprise. "You better watch out," she said dryly, "those fire hydrants tend to just pop up outta nowhere."
"What? Do YOU wanna drive?"
"YES!"
John was slightly taken aback. He scanned the road ahead. They were about two blocks from the restaurant.
" 'Ow 'bout you drive 'ome? We're almost there anyway."
"Yes!" Aidan said quickly. "Yes, I would like that."
"Okay then," St. John said, speeding up and changing lanes in the intersection.
* * *
St. John pulled the Corvette up to the curb. The valet opened the door for Aidan and she waited for John. St. John gave the valet the keys and walked Aidan to the door.
He was about to open it for her when Jennie's voice popped into his head: "opening doors and pulling out chairs gets annoying after a while."
Aidan looked at the door, then to John, and then to the door again, and Remy's voice popped into her head: "let 'im open doors for ya 'n pull out your chair."
For the next five minutes, both Aidan and St. John stared at the doors, neither of them moving. Once the atmosphere felt more than a little uncomfortable and two other couples entered the restaurant, Aidan and John reached for the door at the same time.
"Sorry," they both muttered as they each opened a door.
Once inside the swanky restaurant, John held out his arm and Aidan took hold of it.
They walked up to the maitre de and John tried to sound as sophisticated as possible. "Allerdyce, party of two please."
The maitre de scanned the list of reservations. "Follow me." He led them to a table in the back corner. It was surrounded by beautiful stained glass windows and potted plants. In the center of the table, there was an arrangement of candles, vines, and large white flowers.
St. John was about to sit down when a stern look from the maitre de prompted him to pull out Aidan's chair for her.
The maitre de handed them their menus and returned to his podium.
"Crickey!" St. John whispered. "The whole bleedin' menu's in French!"
"Poule?" Aidan pondered. "Isn't that chicken?"
"How the 'ell should I know. I'm from Sydney! I mean, Remy's a smart bloke 'n all, but tha moron fahgot ta teach the Aussie how ta order his dinner."
"Chicken," Aidan said, ignoring John's rant and still staring at her menu. "I'm sure poule is chicken... I think..."
St. John flipped the menu over and noticed the wine list. "Didn' even teach me how ta order wine..." he muttered, shaking his head.
Aidan put her menu down. "But you're only nineteen."
"Oh, yeah... Almost fahgot about that."
The waiter stepped up to the table. "Could I get you anything to drink?"
"Water, please," Aidan said.
"Me too- uh, also."
The waiter nodded and walked away.
"This is ridiculous," St. John said, cradling his head in his hands. "I can't believe we're actually doin' this..."
"It's not that bad..." Aidan said.
St. John's hands fell to the table and he raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, so it is that bad." Aidan looked around the restaurant. She felt out of place. They must've been the only couple there under the age of thirty. This WAS ridiculous. She couldn't even remember if poule was French for chicken.
"We shouldn't even be here," St. John whined, breaking a breadstick in half. "These aren't even tha good breadsticks..."
Aidan leaned inward and whispered suspiciously. "Then whadda ya say we get outta here?"
St. John also leaned in conspiratorially. "We can't do that, sheila. Where'll we go? We're in eve'nin' wear fa-"
Silently the flame from the candle in the centerpiece slinked down the side of the candle.
"So... pretty..." John whispered in awe.
Aidan used her finger to trace the fire around the petals and leaves. She could hear the waiter coming back to take their order and lost her concentration. Lucky though, John took control of the fire and the nearest potted plant went up in smoke. He was about to torch the centerpiece when Aidan grabbed his hand.
"Follow me!"
They ran out of the restaurant, knocking down their waiter, two bus boys and the maitre de on their way.
When they got outside, they found the valet and he went looking for the Corvette.
"Get back here!" the maitre de yelled, stumbling out the front doors.
Just then, the valet pulled up with the car, and Aidan hopped into the driver's seat.
"Now, what're we gonna do?" St. John asked as Aidan sped out of the parking lot.
"You'll see," she said, calmly reaching over to pull his tie off.
"What're ya doin'?!" he yelped in surprise.
"You won't need that anymore," she said and tossed him her mini-backpack. "Open that."
He opened the bag and pulled out his red long sleeved t-shirt. "What's all this?" he asked.
"I figured we wouldn't be there too long. I tried to tell Jennie about candles and pyros... besides, I can't stand fancy places anyway. How 'bout a movie?"
St. John smiled. "You're a sheila after me own 'eart. Let's go for it!" he yelled, pulling out a pair of jeans.
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Chapter 15
The Date Part I:
Car Rides and Restaurants
A black Corvette sped past the 7 Eleven. Inside the Corvette, St. John was grinning ear-to-ear.
"This is great, ain't it, Aidan? I can't believe Remy lemme drive!" St. John announced, taking the 'Vette across the yellow lines as he rounded a curve.
"Neither can I!" Aidan yelled, holding onto the door handle for dear life. Her eyes bugged out of her head as they came face-to-face with a tractor- trailer truck. "Oh, Dear God!" she shrieked, abandoning the door handle to cover her eyes.
At the last second, St. John pulled the car into the right lane. When the sounds of screaming and twisting metal were absent, Aidan slowly peeked over her fingers.
"You crazy Yanks..." he said, "no wonda America's such a mess. Y'don't even drive on the right side o'the road."
The Bayville city limits sign passed by Aidan's window in a blur. "John... do you even have your driver's license?"
"My what?" he asked, swerving to miss a fire hydrant.
Aidan yelped in surprise. "You better watch out," she said dryly, "those fire hydrants tend to just pop up outta nowhere."
"What? Do YOU wanna drive?"
"YES!"
John was slightly taken aback. He scanned the road ahead. They were about two blocks from the restaurant.
" 'Ow 'bout you drive 'ome? We're almost there anyway."
"Yes!" Aidan said quickly. "Yes, I would like that."
"Okay then," St. John said, speeding up and changing lanes in the intersection.
* * *
St. John pulled the Corvette up to the curb. The valet opened the door for Aidan and she waited for John. St. John gave the valet the keys and walked Aidan to the door.
He was about to open it for her when Jennie's voice popped into his head: "opening doors and pulling out chairs gets annoying after a while."
Aidan looked at the door, then to John, and then to the door again, and Remy's voice popped into her head: "let 'im open doors for ya 'n pull out your chair."
For the next five minutes, both Aidan and St. John stared at the doors, neither of them moving. Once the atmosphere felt more than a little uncomfortable and two other couples entered the restaurant, Aidan and John reached for the door at the same time.
"Sorry," they both muttered as they each opened a door.
Once inside the swanky restaurant, John held out his arm and Aidan took hold of it.
They walked up to the maitre de and John tried to sound as sophisticated as possible. "Allerdyce, party of two please."
The maitre de scanned the list of reservations. "Follow me." He led them to a table in the back corner. It was surrounded by beautiful stained glass windows and potted plants. In the center of the table, there was an arrangement of candles, vines, and large white flowers.
St. John was about to sit down when a stern look from the maitre de prompted him to pull out Aidan's chair for her.
The maitre de handed them their menus and returned to his podium.
"Crickey!" St. John whispered. "The whole bleedin' menu's in French!"
"Poule?" Aidan pondered. "Isn't that chicken?"
"How the 'ell should I know. I'm from Sydney! I mean, Remy's a smart bloke 'n all, but tha moron fahgot ta teach the Aussie how ta order his dinner."
"Chicken," Aidan said, ignoring John's rant and still staring at her menu. "I'm sure poule is chicken... I think..."
St. John flipped the menu over and noticed the wine list. "Didn' even teach me how ta order wine..." he muttered, shaking his head.
Aidan put her menu down. "But you're only nineteen."
"Oh, yeah... Almost fahgot about that."
The waiter stepped up to the table. "Could I get you anything to drink?"
"Water, please," Aidan said.
"Me too- uh, also."
The waiter nodded and walked away.
"This is ridiculous," St. John said, cradling his head in his hands. "I can't believe we're actually doin' this..."
"It's not that bad..." Aidan said.
St. John's hands fell to the table and he raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, so it is that bad." Aidan looked around the restaurant. She felt out of place. They must've been the only couple there under the age of thirty. This WAS ridiculous. She couldn't even remember if poule was French for chicken.
"We shouldn't even be here," St. John whined, breaking a breadstick in half. "These aren't even tha good breadsticks..."
Aidan leaned inward and whispered suspiciously. "Then whadda ya say we get outta here?"
St. John also leaned in conspiratorially. "We can't do that, sheila. Where'll we go? We're in eve'nin' wear fa-"
Silently the flame from the candle in the centerpiece slinked down the side of the candle.
"So... pretty..." John whispered in awe.
Aidan used her finger to trace the fire around the petals and leaves. She could hear the waiter coming back to take their order and lost her concentration. Lucky though, John took control of the fire and the nearest potted plant went up in smoke. He was about to torch the centerpiece when Aidan grabbed his hand.
"Follow me!"
They ran out of the restaurant, knocking down their waiter, two bus boys and the maitre de on their way.
When they got outside, they found the valet and he went looking for the Corvette.
"Get back here!" the maitre de yelled, stumbling out the front doors.
Just then, the valet pulled up with the car, and Aidan hopped into the driver's seat.
"Now, what're we gonna do?" St. John asked as Aidan sped out of the parking lot.
"You'll see," she said, calmly reaching over to pull his tie off.
"What're ya doin'?!" he yelped in surprise.
"You won't need that anymore," she said and tossed him her mini-backpack. "Open that."
He opened the bag and pulled out his red long sleeved t-shirt. "What's all this?" he asked.
"I figured we wouldn't be there too long. I tried to tell Jennie about candles and pyros... besides, I can't stand fancy places anyway. How 'bout a movie?"
St. John smiled. "You're a sheila after me own 'eart. Let's go for it!" he yelled, pulling out a pair of jeans.
