“No,” I say, annoyed that the conversation has somehow shifted to my questioned attraction toward Natalia. “That’s not what I meant.”
Instead of questioning me further, she turns and stomps off.
“Jenny,” I call, hopping off the table and going after her.
present
My and Natalia’s eyes are level with the showcase of various bobbleheads, each figure dressed in different themes ranging from cartoon characters to superheroes.
“So tell me again why we’re here?”
I round the end of an aisle lined withStar Warsbobbleheads, a Princess Leia in a gold bikini smiling at me as I meet Natalia. Her eyes track me up and down. Her gaze lingers on the slim-fitting Henley I paired with my faded jeans on my day off, different from the chef’s uniforms I’m sure she’s grown accustomed to.
“Ashton and Carly are both hugeGame of Thronesfans, and I found out that this place does custom bobbleheads with character themes.”
“So you’re going to get them custom made Khaleesi and Khal Drogo bobbleheads?”
She holds up a bobblehead dressed in a Playboy bunny costume. Her smile beams with recognition, and her fingers toy with the figure, tracing over the bright colors and fragile lines before she carefully places it back on the shelf.
“That’s exactly it,” I answer. My attention piques, discovering that Natalia’s pop culture knowledge onGame of Thronesmay be more extensive than I thought if she’s able to tick off character names without a quick Google search.
“Sounds better than a toaster,” she says with an approving nod. “But why did you need my help? It sounds like you’ve pretty much settled on the gift.”
I walk over to stand beside her. Our gazes face a shelf with over a dozen different variations of Khaleesi and Khal Drogo. “They have too many options.”
“Oh Mylanta,” she says breathlessly, her eyes scanning the selection.
“Yup.”
“You know,” she says with a soft voice, “maybe I should have picked my beef jerky over this.”
I wink in her direction. “I’ll get you something better.”
“How about an eeny, meeny, miny, moe pick?” she suggests. “And no backsies.”
“What did I tell you about rhyming?” I warn.
“It’s an involuntary tic,” she defends, shrugging her shoulders in feigned innocence.
“Fine,” I agree. “It’s better than my way.”
“What was your way?” she asks.
“Buying them all,” I joke, silently confessing the fact that I didn’t really come here with a game plan. She rolls her eyes at me before turning her attention back to the figures.
I watch as her fingers pluck along the selection of figures. Her mouth silently moves along as she finally lands on a Khaleesi figure with a blue dress and a miniature dragon perched on her shoulder. She smiles proudly at me with her selection nestled in her hands.
“Nice one,” I say, smiling down at her and watching the corners of her eyes crinkle. And then it’s my turn. I mimic her, hovering my fingers over the figures. I land on Khal Drogo holding a curved machete with war paint smeared across his face and chest.
“I think we have our winners.”
After providing pictures of Ashton and Carly at the register so that the bobbleheads look identical to the bride and groom with instructions on when to pick up the final product, we exit the store.
When we step outside, the sky is transitioning from the orangey-purple haze to a dark night sky. The air feels crisp, the remnants of summer blowing away with the incoming fall breeze, evident by the changing leaves feathering the backdrop as we slowly walk through the busy sidewalk. I fully expect Natalia to call it a night and head home, but then she peeks at me over her shoulder. Her lashes bat at me in an adorable way that comes off as playful and not flirty as she reaches for my forearm, pulling me toward her.
“Looks like the perfect night for some avocado froyo.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re back outside. We’re each holding a cup of froyo in our hands, avocado flavored for Natalia and salted caramel for me.