You Should Have Been Here Yesterday

I Don't See How This is a Bad Thing

Anthony- I mean, Joe and I left the mall shortly after that. I didn't buy any gifts except some for myself at the record store. Oops.

Once we were inside the slowly-warming car, we started to make our way through the snow in the darkening night.

We had the heat on full blast and I was sitting in the passenger seat while Joe tried to get the ice off the windshield. It was kinda funny because he had to jump to reach the middle of the windshield and it wasn't working too well. That, and there was no snow brush in the car.

Several minutes later, Joe opened the car door in defeat, shaking the snow from his hair and trying to regain feeling in his fingers. His face was red from the cold and wind. "That went well," I commented.

He looked down at the steering wheel and shook his head, letting out a hiss of embarrassed laughter. "Like you could do better," he mumbled under his breath, smirking, but his hair was still hanging in his face.

"What?!" I demand, incredulous.

"Next time? Yeah, you're doing it," Joe says.

"Is that a challenge?"

"It might be."

"Any day, any time," I joke.

Joe shrugs and begins to drive away. "Are you taking me home?" I asked eventually.

"Nope."

"Then whe-"

"Shh, I like this one..." Joe reaches over and turns up the volume to the Christmas music. I roll my eyes and go back to staring out the window.

We came to another stop outside of a place that sells coffee. I've never been inside because, well, I don't like coffee.

It was still snowing buckets outside. "The time," Joe said slowly, turning off the car, "is now. Should you except this challenge, it will depend on your life..." He unbuckles his seat-belt and puts his hand on the door handle. "But first..." He paused, probably for dramatic effect. I was tempted to shove him and tell him to stop being weird. But instead he yelled, "Last one inside has to pay!" very quickly and very loudly. Then he dashed out of the car, almost falling on the ice.

I hardly took the time to roll my eyes again before I decided, Why the hell not? and ran after him, slipping and sliding up to the door.

It was a struggle to get inside, as Joe was trying to get in at the same time I was, but he somehow managed to slip past me. "Ha," he said mockingly, shaking some snow out of his hair.

"Asshole," I mutter. He gasps, like he's hurt or something. And the way that he does it so sarcastically and dramatically makes me stifle a laugh. I step up behind him in line, where a pretty girl takes his order. He gets some sort of coffee and then I get a hot chocolate for myself (he again makes fun of me for that), then the girl gives the price. Before I even get the chance to pull out my wallet, Joe had pulled out a crinkled five dollar bill from his jeans and laid it on the counter.

"I thought you-" I began, but he again cut me off.

"The lady never pays," he says in a sorry attempt of a prim and proper accent.

"But you-"

"Ah, ah," he chides. "The lady... Never pays." Still in that weird voice. He's a strange one, I tell you.

Not paying is perfectly fine by me.

"Are you taking me home after this?" I ask. We currently sat in the only available seats: on the hearth in front of the really warm fire. The hot mug warmed my fingers and the boxed hot chocolate heated my bones. It was about halfway gone now; we've been here for maybe twenty minutes.