Page 36 of Capture the Moment
“You could work in film, you know,” she says, her eyes roaming over each of my facial features. My ears burn at the comment and my chest tightens as I focus back on the road.
“It’s a good thing I’m a film major then.” I chuckle as she gasps.
“Oh my God, Shut up! I’m like a psychic or something. Though, you do have a ‘take no bullshit, I’m the boss’ aura when you’re not talking. I thought you were a business major, not gonna lie.” She chuckles and I mimic the action as I pull up to The Sugar Hole, the only donut shop I know in the world that’s open past 1 a.m.
“Business is too serious for me.”
“Hmm…the more you know–” Cleo’s eyes brighten at the sight of our first stop in this short journey. “I thought we were going home!” She beams, nearly opening the door before I can put the car in park.
I chuckle at her eagerness, bringing the car to a safe stop. “I thought you could use a pick-me-up, you looked a little down at the bar before we left.” I shrug, hopping out of the car and nearly running to the passenger side to open it before the eager girl could.
“Thank you, sir,” she babbled in a mock bow. I reciprocate the gesture, grinning like a kid in the candy store.
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
Maybe bringing Cleo to a donut shop late at night was the wrong idea. As soon as we’d enter the pink-lit shop, she runs to the case where all the donuts are held and looks as if she’s going to eat them all before I can make my way over. I pull out my phone and capture the moment before she realizes she’s drooling in front of the sweets and straightens up.
“Asshole.” She rolls her eyes as she points out the manymanydonuts that she wants to try.
“Thank you?”
“You’re welcome! And since you were such a good boy taking your losses in silence, I’ll buy you a donut” she beams.
“Cleo, you’re not buying me a donut,” I say grinning like an idiot as she whips around to look at me witha deep frown.
“And why not?” she challenged, taking a step closer. Is that sweet smell from her perfume? Or is it just her?
I’m so caught up in indulging her sweet scent that I don’t notice her pulling out her wallet to pay. To her dismay, I’m still a “star hockey-player” (her words, not mine) and so I reach over her, thankful for my longer limbs and hand the cashier my card before Cleo can get her own out.
She gapes at me, shocked at how swift she’d been overtaken. I wink at her, cherishing her silent appraisal as she scoffs. We spend our time wisely as we reenter my new truck, a Red Jeep Wrangler, talking about our project and the many things we should be working on this week.
We’re so caught up in each other and our conversation that no one moves to grab a donut. Cleo seems to realize at the same time as me, but when I reach for the box, she smacks my hand away.
I raise an eyebrow at the girl, snatching off my cap and throwing it into the back. “Do you have some sort of donut ritual?” I tease, reaching again only to be swatted away.
“Yes, we must sniff them first and then praise the Donut Gods and then we can eat.” She deadpans.
“I—”
Before I can express any sort of confusion, she bursts into yet another fit of laughter. I think this is the most emotion I’ve seen from her, ever.
“No, Creeper. There’s no ritual. But I do like to record little moments like this, would you be comfortable on camera?” she asks, reaching into her purse, pulling out both her phone and a small camera that I assume she vlogs with.
“Be my guest.”
Cleo takes my agreement with a smile and sets up the small cameras, the only lighting to be shown in the car being the neon pink sign of The Sugar Hole.
“Blake, you are now a friend of mine, how does that make you feel?” she questions me resembling a news reporter as she looks me over.
I smile taking her in; is this what it feels like when someone comes out of their shell? Like a new world is being opened up right before your eyes?
“I feel like you should hand me a donut.” I joke, giving her grabby hands. The giggle that passes her lips is the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard, its chaotic yet soft.
“Fine!Onlybecause you’re the reason we’re here. How was your night tonight?” she asks and then hands me the only odd-ball-looking donut in the box. A red maple bacon donut. My eyebrows rocket at the sight of my go-to choice from the shop and I quickly shoot the grinning girl a look.
“How did you—”
“I have a gift,” she shrugs as I graciously accept the sweet treat.
