Chapter 8: Slush

After a few minutes of Juda driving in complete silence, I knew I had to break the tension before this thirty-minute car ride felt like a three hour car ride.

“I guess you guys didn't totally suck,” I finally admitted, instantly bringing a smile to his face.

“I knew it,” he muttered. “You loved us.”

“Oh, please. You’re mediocre at best,” I argued, a smile giving away my true opinion.

“I’ll take it. At least, for now.” I scoffed at his cocky reply. Juda turned on the radio and flipped through a few channels before finding one that he liked. The silence between us was still there, but this time, it was a comfortable silence.

Somehow, it was already completely dark outside. The only light was coming from the streetlights and the neon signs of fast food places and gas stations that we periodically passed.

“Hey,” Juda suddenly said. “Do you like slushies?”

“Yeah, why?” I replied.

“No reason.” A grin crept its way onto his face as he pulled into the nearest gas station parking lot.

“Juda, what are we doing here?”

“Getting slushies. I thought it was obvious,” he explained, parking the car and unbuckling his seatbelt.

“But Anna told us to come home right after you guys performed,” I argued.

“It’ll only take five minutes, tops.”

“I didn't bring any money.”

“Then I’ll cover you.”

“No way.”

“Come on, Bugs,” Juda sighed. “I’m not gonna go broke from a couple a’ 99 cent slushies.” I took a few seconds to consider my options. If I refuse, he’ll probably go in and get me one anyway, and I’ll be stuck in the car by myself for a few minutes. Anything can happen in a few minutes, especially at a gas station in the middle of the night. No, that was too risky. On the other hand, if I go in, would that be leading him on? I guess a late-night gas station slushie isn't romantic, so it should be okay. Plus, a little sugar would help wake me up enough for the rest of the ride back.

“You’re the worst, you know that, right?” I grumbled.

“I’ll remember that,” Juda laughed. We both got out of the car and headed toward the door. The slight chill in the air made me cross my arms in front of my chest, hugging myself. It wasn't cold enough to be uncomfortable, thank god, but the wind wasn't exactly helping.

Juda opened the door and waited for me to walk in ahead of him. A small bell rang out, signalling that we had entered the store, and the cashier behind the counter muttered a quick, “Welcome to Quicky-Mart,” before returning to his attention to the Playboy magazine he was flipping through. I looked at Juda, and both of us burst out laughing.

“Right this way, m’lady Bugs,” Juda ushered me. We walked to the back of the convenience store through aisles filled with sugary snacks and all different kinds of chips. This one looked exactly like the one back at home. In a way, its familiarity was comforting, giving me a little piece of home here.

Once we got to the self-serve slushie machine, it was time for the hardest decision a person ever has to make: which flavor? Juda had no problem deciphering his cravings, going straight for blue raspberry. He only filled the cup halfway before moving onto grape soda. When he was satisfied with the amount of slush in his cup, he grabbed one of the nearby straws, pulled it from its paper wrapping, and swirled the slush around so each flavor could be dispersed as equally as possible. I grabbed a cup from the rack and scanned the five different flavors, eventually settling on lime. Half the fun would be seeing my tongue turn green by the end of it. By the time I had filled my cup, Juda was securing a lid on his. He then offered me a lid and a straw, patiently waiting for me to assemble everything.

We retreated back through the aisles toward the cashier, side-by-side with our slushies in clutch. Juda stopped before we made it anywhere near the counter about halfway down one aisle.

“What’s your opinion on Cheetos?” Juda asked, staring at the shelf. I thought for a few seconds before responding.

“Make it Hot Cheetos, and I’m in.” Without another word, Juda grabbed a bag of Hot Cheetos, which happened to be my favorite snack, and continued to the front, placing the snack onto the counter. The cashier, whose name tag told us his name was Jeffrey, lazily closed his magazine, not caring if we saw the explicit photos or not. He rang us up, and the two of us were on our way.