Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 245(@200wpm)___ 196(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 245(@200wpm)___ 196(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
“Damn, that sounds better than mine. Now I want to switch my order.” Samuel taps his toe on the linoleum flooring.
“How about we share a bit of each other’s, because literally same.” I suggest, which is what Mom and I do whenever we go out.
“Perfect. I knew we’d be the best of friends,” Samuel replies. We move through the line, waiting our turn to order at the counter. He’s chatting it up with the employee while I’m busy taking it all in, watching the people coming and going, listening to conversations.
“What can I get you?” I’m asked a few minutes later. I give her my order, tempted to add on a macaron, but I decide against it. A glutton for punishment in the form of not being able to move easily doesn’t seem like a great idea, especially with being on a plane and in a confined space.
I hand over my cash and file suit beside Samuel to wait for our food to come out. Luckily, our meals come with drinks, and that we’ll have to do ourselves.
“Hey, what do you want drink wise? I’ll grab them if you wait for our food,” I offer to help cut down on our time spent.
“Lemonade, pink if they have it,” Samuel says with a wink as if yellow lemonade is beneath him or that they have a different flavor.
“And if they don’t?” I reply.
“The regular is fine. Ugh. That’s the worst, though, and if they don’t have lemonade, period, surprise me.” I let out a laugh and turn my back to him in order to go about grabbing our drinks. The drink fridge has bottles to choose from, and luckily, they have Samuel’s pink lemonade. I grab his desired choice and a lemon lime soda for myself. I walk back toward the counter right as they call out our names.
“Luck is on our side today. Being in and out this quickly is a miracle in itself,” Samuel announces. I grab my to-go bag, he takes his drink, and we head out the door.
“No kidding. More time for us to decompress before round two,” I state on our walk toward the employee lounge. I’d have absolutely no idea where to go if it weren’t for my new friend.
“Okay, I’m obviously not giving you the best directions since we’re just walking and I’m not showing you the signs to look for, but next time, I will. I’m absolutely famished, and the way your stomach growled, you are, too, so please forgive me,” he says as we take a left, heading down a corridor, and takes his badge out of his pocket. I do the same, following his lead again.
“I could always ask someone. Don’t be too hard on yourself,” I tell him. The door opens up, and a wave of nausea smacks me right in the face. “Can you hold this? I’ll be right back.” I push my food at him, look around for the bathroom until I finally lock my eyes on the door in the corner, and I run.
I move as fast as I can, in my heels, and thank god no one is in the bathroom, because the second I clear the stalls, I drop to my knees and lose whatever I had in my stomach. There’s nothing worse than being sick like this, and it’s even worse when it happens at work. I flush the toilet to get rid of the evidence of my demise and breathe through another bout of nausea. Surely, I’m not getting sick with a stomach bug on my first day of work, because while I had a nervous start to the day, I’m a lot calmer now.
“Knock, knock. You okay, Maci girl?” Samuel walks through the bathroom door. I hear the turning on of the faucet, a wringing of a paper towel, and then there’s a cool cloth placed on the back of my neck.
“I’m okay, or I think I am. I think that’s the last of it.” I move away from the toilet, stand up, and hold the stall wall to make sure I’m steady on my feet before moving toward the sink to rinse out my mouth and wash my hands.
“Thank god. I was so worried.” He hovers beside me, keeping a watchful eye on me the entire time.
“I’m better now, and I’m starving. I think it was the jitters, only having coffee, starting new job, and flying.” I shake off the thought and get to righting myself. I don’t have time to dwell on the reason why I just tossed my cookies. We’ve got a lunch to eat and work to do. I notice there are mini toothbrushes, toothpaste, and mouthwash. I go through the process of scrubbing my teeth to get rid of the yuckiness; it’s quick, but it’ll have to do. I spit, rinse, and toss out my trash in record time.