Celeb Date

Chapter 7- Our Ugly Reality and A Powdered Donut

  I woke up the next morning, my eyes fluttering open when my alarm blared.

  I had to work.

  I got out of bed, forcing myself to walk to the dresser. I grabbed an outfit that Luke had bought for me, the light pink ruffle top, and a pair of worn skinny jeans. I took five minutes to get dressed, then added a touch of makeup, and a small squirt of perfume called “cliché wishes”.

  I ran downstairs, searching for bread to make toast. There wasn’t any.

  I decided I would just wait until I made it to the shop.

  I grabbed my car keys, and headed to my old blue Taurus.

  I made it through the doors of Always Time for Coffee, with two minutes to spare. I grabbed my apron off of its hook in the back room, tying it tightly around my waist.

  I walked all around, looking for my mom. She wasn’t in her office, but placed neatly on her desk was a small powdery donut and a thermos of what smelled like hot chocolate. My name was printed carefully on the napkin that the donut was placed on. In a smaller print though, it said: A good way to start your day. See you later?

  I groaned. So this was from Luke?

  “Melissa?” I heard my mom calling me from the front of the shop.

  I headed out front, gasping when I ran into someone coming around the corner.

  “I’m so sorry. It was my fault,” I said, tripping over my words.

  I was met with a pair of deep brown eyes.

  “Don’t worry about it. It was my fault. How was your donut?”

  Luke Green.

  I groaned inwardly.

  “I haven’t had the chance to even have a bite yet,” I brushed past him, heading out to the counter, and he followed.

  “So why are you here again?” I asked, lathering my hands in soap, and rinsing them with warm water.

  Luke shifted from heel to toe, then back again.

  “Can you come out to the front? The mail lady is here.”

  I knitted my eyebrows and followed after Luke.

  The regular mail lady was standing just inside the door, holding a huge stack of newspapers and magazines. But the magazine on top caught my eye. I raced forward, politely asking the woman to let me see it. She handed it to me, and I stared at the cover in shock. It read: Luke Green’s contest winner- Melissa Martin- may be a shoe in for the young star’s heart. See pictures of their date on July 10th at Melissa’s local beach on pages 5-10.

  I rushed to page 5. It showed a picture of Luke and I making our way onto the beach, and in bold print said: Small town girl with a big impact on Luke Green.

  The pictures were something else. I’ll give them that. They had a picture of Luke smearing the sunscreen on my arms, his chest against my back. I almost laughed at that picture. Another showed us huddled together, looking at his drawing of me. I had to admit that they seemed to get the shots that made us look like a real couple. One of them though, I didn’t recall. It was a picture of me, my back pressed up against the sand, and my eyes looked closed from the angle of the picture. Luke’s hand was touching my cheek, and if I didn’t know anything about Luke, and if I hadn’t been there, as a reader I might have thought he was going to kiss me.

  I shuddered, realizing that when I was with him I was an open book. Anyone could walk by and see into my life no matter where I went or what I did.

  I skimmed through the other pictures, but none of them were quite as interesting after that last one. The way the sun had looked in the background, the way the water had sparkled, it was beautiful.

  “Are you mad?” Luke’s voice edged into my thoughts.

  “Yes, but not at you.”

  Luke nodded.

  “I’m angry because they follow me everywhere. I can’t even go on a date without having them ten feet away,” Luke grumbled.

  “It was more of an… outing,” I said.

  Luke grinned.

  “Speaking of which. Why don’t you just call this a date? I’ve quote on quote dated girls without having interest in them. So you can call this a date, even though it is obvious you hate me,” He said smiling. I knew he wanted me to fire back compliments, but I wasn’t going to play that game.

  “I don’t hate you,” Is all I said before turning back to the counter.