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Monday, November 4, 2013

Fried Onions & Cranberry Sauce - a short Thanksgiving romance

Amber walked through the grocery aisles searching for fried onions and cranberry sauce. She was willing to search high and low for the fried onions but wondered why her mother insisted on having the cranberry sauce when no one ever ate it. Horrible stuff.

She was home for the holiday weekend, alone. Two years out of college, by now nearly all her friends were married, and she was striving to be content with a burgeoning career in public relations.

She spied the fried onions on the lowest shelf, all the way in the back. She had to get on her hands and knees to reach the closest package. She pulled herself out of the shelf and sat up wiping dust from her shirt.

“I admire your dedication to green bean casserole,” a masculine voice chuckled above her.

Amber's face reddened, “It wouldn't be Thanksgiving without it,” she quipped, looking up and nearly choked.

Before her, as handsome as the day they graduated, stood her high school crush.

“Marco! It's been a while.”

He nodded, smiling. “I saw you as you turned down this aisle and thought I'd say hello. Unfortunately, I didn't make it in time to offer to dive for the fried onions myself.”

“Where has chivalry gone?” Amber smiled, standing up and brushing herself off. “So what are you up to these days?”

He shrugged, scrunching up his face. “I am attending law school in Virginia. So still not done with school although I only have one more year so...”

“That is great. I can definitely picture you as a lawyer.” She remembered the debates they had done in speech class, he had always done really well.

“What about you? What are you doing?” he asked leaning forward slightly as if genuinely interested.

“I'm working at a PR firm in DC.”

“Do you enjoy that?” he asked, his eyes intent on her face.

“Yeah, its good,” she said lamely, wishing she could come up with something intelligent to say instead.

“Are you married or anything?” he asked his eyes flickering to her hands.

She shook her head, “Nope. You?” She was so glad he had asked first. She wouldn't have had the nerve to ask him if he hadn't but she would have wondered all weekend. Probably longer.

He shook his head, his eyes focused once again on hers. “I've not had time to even date much. Law school is pretty intense.”

“I bet.” She shrugged, trying to think of something more to say to him. She had daydreamed about this guy for four years straight in high school and even some in the six years since graduation and now that he stood before her in the flesh she could barely carry on a conversation. The silence lengthened.

“Do you come home often?” she asked. He hadn't seemed aware of the awkward pause in the conversation but it had lasted an eternity.

“Not too much. It is funny that we live closer to each other now than either of us live to here. I am about three hours to DC and it takes me about ten hours to drive here.”

“I am about seven and a half away.”

“Three isn't bad,” he said almost under his breath.

She nearly corrected him that she was seven not three hours away when it occurred to her that he might have been talking about something else.

A crotchety old woman glared at them as she bumped her cart into Amber's to get her attention.

“Oh! I am so sorry! I didn't notice you there!” Amber moved her cart to the same side of the aisle as Marco's and tried to ignore the grumpy mutters she heard as the lady walked past.

She grimaced and shot an embarrassed smile at Marco. He gave her a conspiratorial grin and wink in return. She blushed once again.

It must have been the blush that emboldened him because he came around her cart to stand beside her and spoke in a low, husky voice, “I promised myself that if I ever had this chance again, I would take it.”

She shot him a questioning look. Could he really mean...? Her breath caught in anticipation.

“I know you are busy on Thursday,” he nodded to the fried onions in her hand, “but would you like to go to dinner with me on Friday night?”

Amber felt like jumping up and down and screaming but she managed a casual, “Sounds great.” She barely heard the details of time and place as she kept mentally pinching herself at this dream come true.

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