One Month, One Lifetime

11: An Above Average Toosh

Britton didn't have to think. "The Roof Restaurant in the Joseph Smith Memorial Building. You can see the whole city and all of Temple Square." He checked his watch--I mean, who wears a watch anymore? "They should still be open at this time of night, but people usually go there to celebrate engagements or big events. It's not exactly a casual dining experience." He used the three bags of my clothes to gesture to his attire.
"I told you to let me buy you something nice."
"But then we wouldn't have money left for dinner."
I laughed. It felt good. It could have been the elevation and the thin air, but laughing never felt better than in Salt Lake.
"I'll bribe them to let you in. Tell them I picked up a bum off the street and wanted to treat him to a nice hot meal."
"I don't look like a hobo."
I shrugged and skipped ahead so he couldn't catch my smile.
"Indi! Say I don't look like a hobo!" he called while running after me toward the train.
As it turned out, he was dressed well enough to be allowed in the restaurant. It must have been something about that sweater. It had magic powers to be sure. The perfect top for shopping, the ballet, and the fanciest dinner I ever enjoyed.
The price per head was just under fifty at the Roof Restaurant, which drained my account. When I reached for my emergency stash of Minnie cash for the tip Britton stopped me and pulled a twenty out of his wallet.
"By the end of the month a twenty will be nothing."
I sure hoped so. Because I was now officially broke. Other than the hundreds of dollars in my duffle bag.
The Restaurant was buffet style, which suited me just fine. Everything looked delicious and there was too much to try it all. That didn't stop us from trying. My plate was filled with poached salmon, roasted prime rib, and steaming soup. The aroma was intoxicating.
We both ordered a water to drink. There was no need to fill up on soda when we had a hundred dollar's worth of food to eat.
As we gorged ourselves, the conversation dwindled. Between bites we mumbled our praises to the chef and marveled at how food could be so good. After my second plate I patted my mouth with the cloth napkin, like the proper lady I was. I rested it back on my lap and leaned back in my chair. I was going to have a serious food baby. Good thing some of our next tasks involved literal running and hiking and less spending all my money of the best food I have ever had. Or I would turn into a sphere of Indi that had to be rolled everywhere.
Britton packed in his third and a half plate, leaving me to wonder how he was still so skinny. I wouldn't exactly call him lerpy, but he was on the gangly side. He was tall, probably just over six feet. I wasn't short, even if I felt it sometimes. I was the exact height of the average female in the United States, thank you very much. Compared to Britton I felt like a tiny bean. And he must have had the metabolism of a cheetah. Did cheetahs have a fast metabolism? Maybe he had the metabolism of a cheetah with a really fast metabolism.
Before he could stand to get dessert I waved him back down.
"Give me a second and I'll come with you," I muttered, barely holding on to a less than ladylike belch. That's all I needed to do in the fanciest restaurant I have ever been to. I could just burp the alphabet and see how long it took for the staff to ask me to leave.
Britton did wait for me though. His eyebrows had a cute little furrow between them like he was worried I might explode into food stuff if I moved. "You better hurry, it looks like they're beginning to close."
I glanced around the Roof Restaurant. Sure enough, the staff was beginning to clear away all the empty tables and a few were sweeping at the other end of the dining room. If we loitered much longer I knew from experience that we would be getting secret death glares from the employees. No matter how nice the staff looks and no matter how many times they reassure that it's no problem, if you stay in a shop or restaurant after they're supposed to be closed, you will become enemy number one. It happened all the time at Henry's department store. A particularly difficult patron would keep wandering the aisles while we glanced at the clock that read half an hour after closing.
I had no plans to become that person.
"Grab me something chocolate while I digest?" I asked with a puppy dog smile that Britton couldn't resist.
"That's disgusting," was his only remark as he brushed past me to the extensive dessert bar. My eyes trailed him as he walked past. How did that boy not have a girlfriend? I knew I swore to myself that I would stop making assumptions, but I was pretty sure a good Mormon boy like him was supposed to be a married to a good Mormon girl by now. Even if he wasn't married, he should have had a girlfriend. He could take her to ballets and fancy restaurants like this one and hold her shopping bags without a second thought. He would offer to get her chocolate dessert when she was too chubby to walk.
Woah, girl. I reigned in my thoughts. No attachments. Especially not to Britton. He wasn't my type.
I was more into the rugged look. A healthy dose of stubble and styled hair. Maybe a little bit of  tan. Dark complexion overall. Someone who looked like he went on a run everyday. A sense of humor that complimented mine. Great butt. Just your normal checklist.
Not Britton.
Not pale blonde hair that had been hacked away with a pair of clippers. And not skin so pale it was almost pink. And not borderline gangly with a too nice to be true personality. No siree, that was not the guy for me.
But then he returned with my dessert, and I my thoughts jumped from Britton and his above average toosh to the chocolate in front of me.
"I just said something chocolate. Meaning one thing. Two tops." He had managed to fill a normal sized dinner plate with a little bit of everything. Brownie. Lava cake. Mousse. Something that resembled pudding but was probably much fancier. He even snuck a white chocolate covered strawberry on there. "You're trying to kill me, right?"
He was already tucking into his own lava cake and lemon merengue. "I don't get the money if you die though. No death, you just didn't specify which chocolate you wanted so I made you a sampler."
"You're my literal favorite person in this room."
His shoulders shifted when he craned his head to look around the room. "Not much competition."
"My favorite person in the state then."
Twenty minutes later we left the building with an apologetic wave at the staff for being so long. It was well past eleven and I wasn't sure when they were supposed to close, but it must have been a while ago judging by how fast they swooped up our dirty plates.
"We're never going to be allowed back in," Britton complained when he slipped on his coat and stuffed his hat over his neatly trimmed hair. "They're going to tell stories about us and how awful of customers we were."
"Relax," I shushed him when we got in the elevator to head to the bottom of the Joseph Smith Memorial Building. The whole building was decorated lavishly from plush carpet to marble floors. It was like Aunt Minnie's estate crossed with the white house and made into an apartment for building for the wealthy. The view had been great from the top level at the restaurant, but even at street view the city was beautiful, even more so since it had stopped snowing.
"You weren't serious about needing to stay at my place, right? I can take you to a hotel or somewhere?"
"Why, do you have a lovely lady who wouldn't want to me hanging around?"
He laughed. Honest to goodness laughed at that. "Not anymore."
That didn't seem funny to me. Relationships that could be classified as "Not anymore" usually hurt, but he didn't seem phased by it.
"Which hotel then? Cheap or expensive."
"I never said I wasn't staying at your house."
"You were joking!"
"You promised," I mentioned, referring to my last minute addition to our deal before we shook hands. "Boy scout's honor and all that."
"Not boy scout's honor and you definitely cheated."
"Cheater or not, we shook on it." I tugged my coat tighter around me. We were less than three blocks from the nearest trax station, but my ears were already ringing from the cold. "You should be more excited about having a roommate as cool as me."
"Have you seen my apartment? I don't have space for a roommate." Without mentioning it, he pulled off his hat and crammed it into my head so it covered my ears. I didn't protest that he messed up my hair.
"It'll be fine. I don't take up much space." I would have offered to crash on his couch, but I couldn't remember if he had one. All I could remember was that his murphy bed took up all of his living space.
The trax ride was long and boring.
We didn't have the liberty of an empty car this time around. Instead we were surrounded by the late night crowd of a Friday night heading across the city. We squished into a seat near the back of the carriage. I made Britton sit by the strange so I could take the window seat and lean my head against it. With the added cushion of his hat I didn't mind the jostling and it dulled the noise from outside.
I hadn't realized how tired I was until we were seated with my head lolled to the side. Between the melody from Cinderella and the food coma that was threatening to engulf me, I could have fallen asleep right there.
And apparently I did.
Because the next thing I remembered, Britton was gently shaking my shoulder and whispering that this was our stop. My eyelids felt so heavy that they wouldn't open. It had been too long of a day to want to look at the world. From walking away from Mabel's and slipping on ice to the drain of chasing down Britton and convincing him to join me. Then a few hours of heavy shopping and a night of indulgence.
I was exhausted, mind and body.
Despite my protests, Britton pulled me up instead of letting me spend the night on trax. He tucked my arm in his so I wouldn't fall down, and I allowed him to blindly lead me toward his apartment.
If the zombie apocalypse broke out in Salt Lake, the living dead would have thought I was one of them. Those few blocks were as close to sleepwalking as I had ever gotten. In the back of my mind I was aware that Britton was talking to me, trying to keep me awake. I think he threatened to tickle me if I fell asleep. There was something about not wanting to carry me.
Then we were loaded into the elevator that I had earlier doubted would hold to two of us. I didn't have the will to protest. If the cable snapped and we fell to our dooms then I would be able to sleep at least.
The last thing I remembered was the click of a key unlocking his apartment door.