Lemon Sorbet | ✓

EP 02. ODD FLIRTING

"THAT sure was some odd flirting."

The random pronouncement had me stumbling, somehow caught my legs to tangle beneath me. Though would've been hilarious for Quinn to witness since she already spilled some giggles, it would've been far more disastrous on my end since I was holding two freshly scrubbed tubs.

"Thanks, Quinn," I huffed, heart racing again when I already calmed it down after disappearing at the back, choosing to engulf myself in stuff I can focus on than watch the awkward revelries of Leon's hunched back that would disappear soon enough. Per his words, never again appearing in this musty little pier shop.

"No problem, sweetie. But still. Odd dude."

"He is. But also... very interesting."

Quinn snorted. "Odd dudes are always interesting in your Book of Dates, categorised as: potential."

"Please shut up- we're entering back out." I hid my blush with the few wisps of loose hair from my ruined half-arsed ponytail. There was no hiding my crush of him to her. After all, she was an ordained witness and of the only people I told of.

"He's probably already left," she went on. "Didn't he say a minute? You scrubbed about fifty million new bacteria in the span of twenty minutes- unnecessarily so, might I add. Got to give it to you for pursuing and most likely winning the employee of the year award. Though you wouldn't be nominated for the Best Dating this time 'round."

I ignored her, instead, stepped out.

Sure enough, the place was deserted.

Hiding my disappointment this time was harder. Without an audience, it's always easier to let masks slip. With a sigh, I took the tubs and shifted them in place. Busying my hands while my mind reeled back to the moments I had with him, perusing every detail. As you do when your crush finally notices your existence past background retail worker.

As Quinn fixed up the register and pulled out her phone with the thrilling announcement of the new game she had been playing, I let my thoughts blew past my mouth. Rhetorics that really said aloud to help me remember each moment with outlandish clarity.

"What do you think he meant by my 'observation skills'? Or the key is Peter Pan?"

"I don't know," she murmured, unfocused. Phone games usually took a lot of Quinn's brain function, with short dialogues left for human response. "You're the one with the 'observation skills'. The 'detective' as he so eloquently, lovingly put it."

I wasn't taking the bait but my heart obviously wasn't listening. My stupid fourteen-year-old detective-aspired and admired heart. I took out another washcloth, dried it, and washed a corner, mumbling, "His last words were also really confusing. "

"Maybe he left some clues."

"I wish." I sighed. Though my eyes zeroed on his usual leftover; the folded squares of tissue and paper cone. Even the stool was carefully tucked in- no disturbance in place save for that square.

She followed my gaze for a second, a smirk lifted, and returned to her game. "Go get it, tiger."

"You are positively horrible, Quinn Fong." Still, I walked toward it with measured and casual footsteps, with my heart fast and treacherous. I pocketed it first as if a dismissal to my real feelings, wiping the counter to the point of ridiculous polish to no avail, until I scrubbed it with thrice more the unusual effort, delaying the hopeful and the hopeless.

They key is Peter Pan... Brush up on observation skills... My brain was all muddled up, until finally, I exhaled, closed my eyes, and took out the folded piece.