Author's Note: I'm currently living on dry noodles and stale bread, so sorry for the delay and poor quality of this chapter. Lets jut blame it on the anemia I'm likely to come down with very soon if I don't eat proper food (i.e vegetables). I received some fantastic reviews last chapter, which are probably the only thing that stopped me from keeling over and dying – keep them coming!
The night before, when Seth had visited, he had cooked Molly and I eggs on toast for dinner. Molly had muttered something about the likeliness of never receiving a substantial the rest of her life, but I had elbowed her in the ribs to shut her up. He had run frantically around the kitchen, letting the eggs burn as he buttered toast, it was kind of endearing to watch such a masculine guy fret about eggs.
And here I was, the next day, thinking about how he looked in an apron while at work. To be fair, Jude was having a quiet hangover cigarette outside and Barry was crying to his mother over the phone, so I seemed fairly normal in comparison. I was almost helpful towards customers, being the standout employee I am.
"I asked for a vanilla." A small girl told me, looking outraged.
"Did you also ask for such a plain face?" I snapped at her, but then remembered I was trying to be helpful. "I hear cosmetic surgery can fix that."
Jude gave me an appreciative nod as the girl stalked past her, fuming, on her way in. "You'll make employee of the month in no time."
"Considering who I'm up against." I muttered, casting a look over to Barry, who was now sobbing loudly.
"Only time and a sex change could make him more appealing." Jude said a little wistfully as she followed my gaze.
She jumped up on the counter, long legs dangling below her, and pulled out a pocketknife. I shot her a worried look as she began to carve 'Barry is a twat' into the plastic bench top. It sounds peculiar, but I get the feeling that this is her way of comforting me, showing she's there for me in the least friendly way possible. She's trying to cheer me up by being horrible to Barry. For Jude, it's really quite touching.
"I saw you and Seth getting…" She looked around, lowering her voice so Barry couldn't hear us over his sobs. "Intimate at the funeral."
"You make it sound like we stated having sex on my grandmother's grave." I told her with a frown. "We were only hugging."
"It was an intimate hug!" She protested indignantly.
"You sound like my sister, only she's thirteen." I told her with a smirk.
Work passed with an abundant amount of cigarette breaks on Jude's part, a fair few breakdowns for Barry, and the usual customer-bashing on my part. Although working in a frozen yogurt store was possibly the most suicidal thing I could have done for my future career (whatever that was), it wasn't so bad. I enjoyed watching Barry's clothes get progressively worse for wear as the days passed, and Jude throwing frozen yogurt cups at his head. It was probably best described as a hostile work environment, but I preferred it that way.
Seth, as we had planned, was going to meet me after work with the promise of a bonfire. Molly was staying overnight at a friend's house, so it was a perfect excuse to get drunk. Although I would like to avoid the whole bathroom fiasco this time, and obviously the leaping out of windows. Of course, he may want to avoid trees – but all the same.
He arrived five minutes before my shift ended, wearing his usual ensemble of a ratty old shirt and denim jeans, which was probably a sight better than my aggressively large yellow and pink work shirt tucked into a skirt.
"What are you doing here?" Jude asked Seth rather rudely.
He cocked an eyebrow in that annoying way he usual did. "I'm taking Ginger to a bonfire."
"Oh, a bonfire, huh?" Jude said, eyes narrowing. "Why aren't I invited then?"
"Because I don't want you there." He told her simply, before turning to me. "You ready?"
"Sorry," Jude interrupted, not sounding sorry at all. "I forgot we were having a conversation. Go on then, off you go – ride into the sunset in your bloody truck and I'll stay here, having absolutely no social life whatsoever."
"Excellent, I'm glad that's sorted." Seth said pleasantly, grabbing my hand. "We'll be off then."
As we exited the shop, I glanced over my shoulder to see Jude throwing things at Barry to relieve her anger. I couldn't help but smirk.
"She's in a particularly bad mood today." Seth observed as we made our way to his beat-up truck.
"I think it's because I compared her to an adolescent girl today." I said thoughtfully. "It's probably been bothering her all day."
The sun hung awkwardly over the horizon, threating to slip away all to quickly, with a small sprinkling of clouds littering the darkening sky. We drove with the windows down, the stale sea air brushing against our skin. Seth and I stole sideways glances of each other as the engine rumbled beneath us.
"Why a bonfire?" I asked curiously.
Truthfully, I had never been to a bonfire before. House parties, stealing gin, and mindless garden vandalism were the usual escapades of adolescence I had experienced.
"It's kind of a tradition," He explained, shooting me another sideways glance. "For my friends and I, I suppose. Significant others too…"
"Significant others, huh?" I commented, trying to keep my voice light.
"Er, yeah," He said hurriedly. "I mean, sometimes my mom comes and she's pretty significant…"
He broke off awkwardly and shot me another odd look. The sexual tension was infuriating – I mean, there he was, muscles practically bursting out of his sleeves, pulling strange faces as he tried to read my reaction, while prattling on about his mother. The least I could do was not lean across the car, throw caution to the wind and touch his bicep. I only restrained myself because I could see Seth veering off the road and killing us both in a fiery car wreck just to avoid my harassing touch.
"I see." Was all I could say.
He pulled into a parking bay overlooking the beach. In the distance I could see the warm glow of a bonfire, smoke billowing through the air. There were a number of hazy figures gathered around the flames, and I instantly felt my stomach drop.
"Seth," I began, as I followed him down the sandy slope. "These friends that you mentioned, they aren't the ones that saw me throw myself out of a window, are they?"
"Is that a problem?" He asked, eyebrows raised.
"Well," I began, sarcasm dripping from the word. "It's just that the last time they saw me, I quite literally catapulted out of a window after sobbing in a bathroom for about an hour."
"Is that a problem?" He repeated.
"They probably think I'm a hysterical, cardigan-wearing, cake-eating, bathroom pervert!"
"But you are a hysterical, cardigan-wearing, cake-eating, bathroom pervert." He said, now smirking.
"That's not the point!" I cried. "They're not supposed to know that I'm a hysterical, cardigan-"
"I think you're acting a bit hysterical." He interrupted, that stupid smirk plastered to his face and his stupid eyebrows doing that thing they did.
I had to restrain myself from hitting him over the head, mostly because we were closely approaching his friends and I didn't want them to think I was abusive as well as hysterical. Their faces were caught in the glow of the fire, and I instantly recognized the men all looked alarmingly similar to Seth. Seth's hair was a little longer (something to hold onto), and his expression was far friendlier.
"This is Ginger!" Seth announced loudly, much to my horror.
"Oh," A man nearby said, a flicker of recognition on his face. "The window girl."