Chapter 7

“A cherry milkshake, but can I get more ice cream on it?”

Emmie smiled at the little boy, writing it down while asking, “You mean whipped cream?”

“Uh-huh, the one on the top.”

“Okay,” she chuckled and, looking at his father, asked, “something else?”

“No, that’s it for now. Thank you,” the man said.

Nodding, she said, “The food might take a bit longer than usual, we’re lacking workers right now.”

“Alright, that’s okay.”

Emmie nodded and walked back towards the counter, eyes sliding over the booths in front of her, as always, checking if anyone needed anything. The blonde momentarily froze as she saw the boy in the booth, staring at her as always. Neither of them smiled as their eyes met, but when she went to hand Carl the new order, she could hear his boots moving against the ground, towards her.

Ramsay sat on the stool behind the counter, right next to the blenders she made the milkshakes in. The girl kept facing the other wall for as long as possible, gathering all the ingredients, and when she knew she couldn’t ignore him anymore, turned around, holding her eyes on her work, trying not to acknowledge his presence.

That resulted to be difficult as he spoke up, though. “Hi.”

Raising her eyes to look at him, she gave him a small smile, “Hi,” and turned back to work.

“What’re you making?”

“Milkshakes.”

Shaking his head a bit, Ramsay cringed at himself a bit and leaned towards her. “I’m sorry I was such a dick in the morning,” he quietly said.

Moving her eyes to his face, Emmie could tell he was being sincere and shrugged as if it was nothing. “It’s okay, I deserved it.”

Frowning, Ramsay shook his head. “What? No, how?”

Emmie chuckled quietly, sounding more like a huff to herself, and said, “I don’t know, I guess I should’ve just minded my own business.”

The confusion was clear on the boy’s face, so she turned on the blender, cleaning everything up rapidly while being awkward, and as she poured the drink into a glass, he spoke up again. “You were just trying to help, Emmie.”

Shuddering at the way he said her name, she met his eyes again. “Well, yeah… I’m sorry if… I don’t know,” she sighed.

“I really appreciated you helping me, though,” Ramsay said, earning a small smile from the blonde whose brain was running a mile a minute. Why was he being so nice? “I was angry at myself and I know you were trying to help, and you did. So, again, I’m sorry.”

“Why were you angry?” she frowned, focusing on the whipped cream she covered the milkshake with, getting ready to pop a cherry on it.

“Honestly, every guy would be embarrassed if they fell in front of a beautiful girl.”

Her lips quirked a bit, cheeks growing hot, and as she gazed back at the guy, he was wearing one of the genuine smiles on his face that she had a feeling not many people saw very often. “I’ll be right back,” Emmie murmured, grabbing the glass, and poking a straw into it.

“So, I didn’t consider you the kind of person who’d wake up early in the morning,” the girl said as she walked back to him, having summoned up some more courage in her.

“Yeah, I’m usually not. Just… couldn’t sleep today and the weather looked nice, I guess.”

“It’s been raining the whole day,” Emmie said, looking like she didn’t believe it much.

He shrugged. “I like the smell of it.”

Tilting her head a bit, the blonde observed the boy sitting in front of him, not making it a secret she was watching and—possibly—judging. Everyone on the Northside always talked of the Vipers and Demons as these horrible people who’d spit in their faces if they had the chance, but it didn’t look like it. Emmie had always tried to fight her parents and hold them back from publishing these horrible articles about them, but nobody ever listened to her.

And she had definitely never thought someone like Ramsay Jones would like the smell of fresh rain as she did.

“So,” the boy brought her out of the thoughts, drumming his fingers against the wooden counter. “You like photography?”

Biting her lower lip gently, Emmie nodded. “Yeah.”

“And you just do the pictures while running?”

Chuckling a bit, the girl shook her head. “It’s just that I don’t have much time for myself right now, and well, in the morning I can spare some of it if I’m outside anyway.”

“You go on a morning run every day?” Something in his face told her he didn’t support that idea.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Why?” The question was so genuine and the guy looked like he was questioning her life choices, making Emmie laugh quietly as she shrugged.

“Not everyone can eat as much as you do and remain the same weight,” she said. Ramsay frowned a bit gazing at her small waist and thin arms.

“So,” Emmie smiled, “your order?”

“Usual,” he said and managed a smile.

Scribbling down his family name, Emmie nodded. “Coffee?”

“Nah, just keep the milkshakes coming, it’s getting warmer outside.”

The blonde smiled in a way that made his stomach flip and excused herself to go and check on other customers and get orders from the new ones.

#

“Sorry it took so long,” Emmie frowned when she finally passed the milkshake to Ramsay.

He shrugged it off. “Don’t worry about it.” Then, looking around for the effect of it, murmured, “Where is Jessy?”

“In a hospital,” the girl replied with a sad voice while making not one, but three cups of different coffee at once. “I’m not sure what happened, but she won’t be around for a while.”

Looking at the boy’s surprised face, she focused her eyes back on her duties, internally growing at the five different milkshakes she was yet to make. “And what about someone else?”

“I’m not sure,” Emmie murmured. “Carl said he’ll call your friend later, maybe he can come in.”

“I’m sure he could come right now so that you could stop running around, tiring yourself out.”

There was this look of worry to him that made Emmie smile softly. “Thank you, Ramsay, but I’m okay.”

As she carried the cups to different tables, a perky smile planted on her face again, Ramsay muttered, “Aren’t you always?” and sipped his milkshake.

#

A few hours later, when it had gotten quiet in the diner, Emmie was finally able to have a conversation with the guy who didn’t seem to want to leave. She was flattered, of course, that he’d give her some company and exchange a few words, but the boy had perked some interest in her. And Emmie Davis needed to find out what kind of person he exactly was.

Fortunately, even if his exterior didn’t give away that impression, he was fairly good at communicating with her. Maybe it had been the weeks of knowing each other, the days of his eyes lingering on her every second as she worked, but Emmie knew he wasn’t ashamed to talk. And when he did, he didn’t seem like the bad boy he was trying to look like. And he started the conversation, which was always a plus.

“So, you like photography?”

“You already asked me that,” she reminded him, sitting on a stool on the other side of the counter.

“Yeah, but I didn’t really get a normal answer… Is it something you do often?”

“I don’t have that much time to myself. Especially as I’m working here now.”

“Do your parents force you to work here?” Ramsay frowned, having noticed she probably worked more hours than people their age should have.

“Uh, no… Just you know, everyone’s busy all the time, and I don’t like to be alone much.”

“Oh,” he sighed. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen. What about you?”

“Seventeen. Gonna be a junior?”

Emmie was a bit taken aback, having thought he was at least eighteen, if not a year older than that, but hoped her face didn’t reflect her thoughts. “My birthday’s in summer,” she simply said, making the boy smile.

“Ooh a fellow senior, then. Got lots of colleges lining up for you, I imagine?”

She simply shrugged, “None of which I’d want.”

“You’d say no to a college that wants you?” The boy was frowning when she carefully lifted her eyes from picking on her nail to his face.

“I’ve got good grades,” she stated. “And lots of extracurriculars. My parents want me to be a lawyer, so yes, I imagine schools would want me, but since I don’t want them, who cares?”

“Ooh,” he murmured. “Family trouble?”

Huffing, she rolled her eyes, telling him enough. “What about you? Good grades?”

Snorting, Ramsay tapped against the counter. “Regular. You have good grades on the Southside, you’re dead.”

“What do you mean?” the blonde frowned.

Clenching his jaw, the boy shook his head. “Nothing. So, what do you wanna be if not a lawyer?”

From the look in his eyes and the body language reflecting from him, Emmie made a mental note not to bring up school, Southside, or grades. “Photographer, I think. If not, maybe like a therapist, I don’t know…”

Her eyes were fixed back on her lap, finding her fingers more interesting than anything else as she quietly murmured that. Ramsay needed only one look at the blonde to know she didn’t get that asked from her very often. The way her shoulders rose a bit, and the tone she spoke in, to him, sounded like she was embarrassed.

Or maybe simply scared of expressing her opinions. “So you do photography a lot?” Emmie raised her eyes to him, cheeks pinker than usual, surprised he was actually interested. “Meaning like when you’ve got the time to spare. Or at some club at school?”

“I just…” shaking her head and shrugging once more, “I try to do it as much as possible. But my mom doesn’t like it much, and so whenever I actually have the time for it, I do it. That’s why you saw me with a camera, too.”

Nodding, Ramsay sighed. “Yeah… You have some work you could show me?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean? I’m interested. I mean you’re either one of those girls who brag about their photos and then when people actually see them, it’s like a leaf that isn’t even in focus, or you’re the one who’s a professional.”

That got a smile out of Emmie, but she already knew it wasn’t a genuine one and that he noticed, too. “I don’t think my photos are good, actually,” she murmured.

“Well, have you shown them to anyone?”

“Uh, a few to my friends. They said they were beautiful, but like any other with no actual interest, they probably just did it to move on or something. I don’t know.”

“They sound like assholes.”

Emmie chuckled, “They’re not, actually.”

“Good to hear that,” he smiled, happy that she seemed to be in a better mood now. “So, I’d like to see them. One needs a judging eye.”

“You like photography?” He shrugged, making the blonde roll her eyes again. “It’s fine, Ramsay, you don’t have to act interested.” Then, lowering her head again, a small frown on her face, she murmured, “No one ever is.”

Something about that statement broke the boy’s heart. Emmie didn’t look like a person who’d stand up for herself much. She seemed like a really sweet and caring girl that put everyone else’s needs and desires before her own. That wasn’t healthy, and he definitely knew what it felt like when you couldn’t be the person you truly were.

“You don’t work on Sundays, right?”

Emmie’s eyes narrowed a bit, looking at the guy. “Right…”

“And I don’t work on Sundays.”

Frowning, she asked, “You work?”

“Yeah, there’s this bar on the Southside, and I’ve got evening—you know what, never mind,” he said. “What’s important is that neither of us is busy this Sunday, correct?”

Emmie smiled a bit. “Where are you going with this, Jones?”

“I was horrible to you today in the morning, right?”

“I wouldn’t call it horrible, but,” the girl noticed the face he made while nodding, wanting her to say that, she shrugged with a giggle, “sure.”

“So, I should definitely make it up to you, right?”

“I mean… yes?” Emmie offered, following his facial instructions.

Suddenly, Ramsay’s face was wearing the brightest smile she had ever seen on him. “Yes,” he said, showing off his adorable smile, a few dimples appearing on his cheeks. “So, take your camera, I’ll take my bike, and let’s go to someplace beautiful.”

Smirking, Emmie wiped her hands against her apron as a small family entered and went to sit in a booth, chatting and picking up their menus. “Are you asking me on a date, Jones?”

“A date, a friendly hangout, an hour-long road trip; whatever you want it to be.” Nodding, he added, “But yes. I want to take you somewhere you can take pictures, and I don’t think you’ve been there before.”

“On the Southside?” she asked carefully.

Snorting, he rolled his eyes. “Emmie, I know what you are told about the Southside. So, no, I’m not gonna take you someplace you’re scared of—”

“I’m not scared of it.”

“—but I’ll take you some miles out of town if you’ll let me. I found a beautiful place with an amazing view that I’ve been dying to show off to someone who’d appreciate it.”

“What about your… friend? Isn’t she interested?”

“Ani?” he chuckled. Emmie nodded, eyes careful, but as he started laughing, she tensed up a bit, not knowing if it was because of her words, or something else. “We’re best friends, Emmie,” he said. “We’re neighbors, have been since birth. Besides, I’m quite sure she likes girls more than boys, as of lately.”

“Oh,” the girl exhaled.

“So, what do you say?”

Nibbling on her lower lip, Emmie’s emerald eyes stayed at his hopeful face, and then, finally, when Carl called out an order, the girl nodded. “Sure, Jones. It’s a date.”

Walking away, Emmie’s face was wearing a smile, Ramsay grinning after her the same way.

A date. They had a date.