"Hmmm," he said. "And what are your feelings on gum?"
Georgia stumbled, remembering his earlier remark. "Can… barely tolerate it."
A customer came in through the door—a guy Georgia had seen around before and who she suspected was trying to charm his way into a date with their best barista. She smiled at the customer and saw her counterpart notice him too, moving quickly to take his order.
Pausing in her small reverie, Georgia was caught off guard by Lake suddenly invading her space, stepping around the counter.
“You… you… can’t be back here.”
"Go out with me Friday night."
“What? What did you…”
The barista went silent, clearly eavesdropping on their conversation. Lake turned Georgia by her shoulders so that she would look at him but made a point of stepping over the invisible line separating the counter from the rest of the store.
“Please, go out with me Friday night?”
“But…” Georgia stuttered again, “I just told you I… I can barely tolerate you.”
This, unfortunately, was an outright lie. Despite her misgivings and his lackluster response to planning meetings, Lake’s charm and mysteriousness had not yet dissipated in Georgia’s mind. In fact, he was frustratingly as illustrious as ever. Especially looking down on her with all the confidence in the world, his luscious brown hair falling in his eyes as if it couldn’t quite be tamed, and biting his lip like he might be holding back another laugh.
“No, Peaches, you said you could barely tolerate gum. Me… you find dashing.”
“Dashing?” Georgia laughed then grabbed a washcloth, making herself busy with absentminded cleaning. “What eighteen-year-old says dashing?”
“Charming?” he countered.
She shook her head.
“Helpful. You find me… helpful and more than tolerable.”
“I do? You… helpful?” She gestured to where their group had been working with nothing helpful to show for it.
“You do.” He nodded, backing away towards his belongings at the table. “And you’re gonna meet me here Friday night at five.”
“I am?”
Lake slung his backpack over his shoulder, so casually cool it made Georgia’s heart race. “You are. And I am gonna get you all the sponsors and donations you need for this formal. I won’t let you down, Peaches.”
Before she could answer, Lake winked and walked right out the door. Leaving Georgia stunned in his wake.
Without a moment to process, the barista abandoned her suitor at the counter and lost all her cool, squealing loudly and doing all the jumping up and down Georgia’s insides were presently mirroring. “AHHHHH. Georgia!YOUhave a date withTHELakeland Lovett!!!!”
O’ COME, O’ COME EMMANUEL
THE CIVIL WARS
NOW
“Y’all decideto tell me now… right when the competition gets good… that there was a theme all along?” Georgia watched from a short distance as her mother bellowed her complaints down the long hallway of Sunday school classrooms at Living Hope Church. Her blonde, heavily hair-sprayed bouffant barely moved with the dramatic shifting of her head mid-sass.
“There’s always been a theme, ma’am,” offered a brave youth who didn’t know what was good for him.
“Oh really.” Mrs. Remillard placed a firm hand on her hip and leaned down, grinning like a lunatic at the young man. “Well, bless your sweet heart. I am justSOglad you decided to inform me of the theme… now… after I already created our display for the entire congregation’s viewin’.”
The kid had the nerve to enthusiastically nod his head, believing he’d done her a favor. Bless his heart, indeed. Just as Georgia had decided to make her way over and intervene, the Colonel stepped in, saving the foolish boy from himself.
He placed his hand on the small of his wife’s back and handed her a fresh cup of coffee, made to her liking. “You’re gonna wanna get outta here, son.”
