The date is February 20, 1990. I'm wearing casual clothes, actually it kinda feels like I'm going to the beach. I'm wearing flip flops, a tropical-motif polo, white shorts with a coconut tree pattern, Ray Ban shades. We meet on the mall's entrance. You wore jeans, belted and a blue jumper. On the side was the bliss of a floral scent from a branded perfume most ladies wore.
"It's 12 PM right now, have you eaten anything Eleven?" Presumably, I did eat something; in case that you have already eaten something, but I'm still betting on the fact that I can get to eat lunch with you, even if it means I'm eating one for the second time today.
"No, actually. I was about to ask you out on lunch." Yes. Sweetest words ever, fun fact. I'd get to eat lunch with you. I think that's enough to make my day.
"How about McDonald's?" I asked. Probably the safest option. I'm pretty sure most people like McDonald's, it doesn't matter if it's for breakfast, lunch or dinner. As long as it's fast food, most people will probably like it— right? You'd probably do too, I guess?
"Yeah, that's fine by me." We head to the counter. A queue is in front of us, making time for us to choose food. I think I'd just get Chicken and Fries.
"What would you like, Eleven?" I asked.
"Probably a burger and a chocolate sundae."
"Sure. I'd get that for you."
Just as we said that, the queue clears up. I gave the cashier the order details. I was about to pay up when you suddenly stop me.
"You paid for us last time. I think I need to pay for the both of us this time."
"I don't think you need to Eleven, I'm fine."
"No, I insist."
"But—"
"Excuse me, miss and sir, but who's going to pay up?" the cashier asked us. We both stopped, then both rushed to give the pull up a bill in our wallets to the cashier.
"Please take mine, miss cashier." I pleaded.
"No, take mine, instead."
Both of us were now looking at the cashier just as the cashier looked at us like we're some kind of morons. After staring into each others eyes while holding laughter, both of us burst at the same time.
"Take whatever fancies you, miss." I chuckled.
"I'd take yours, then."
After getting our meals, we head to find an empty table. We sat down and started eating.
From this point on, the point of view shifts to the third person.
Eleven grabs her burger and sundae while Sol grabs his chicken and fries. Both start eating quietly. Sol pours gravy over his fried chicken, and gets gravy on his cheek. Eleven chuckles, prompting Sol to ask what's the matter.
"What's so funny?" Sol asks while talking in a muffled voice. He looks puzzled.
"Sol, don't talk when your mouth is full. Also, you got gravy on your right cheek." Eleven says while pointing to the corresponding region using her face. Sol grabs his thumbs and swipes it at the left cheek.
"Not that side, Sol." Eleven laughs. "The other side."
"Where, here?" Sol asks as he attempts to remove the gravy but fails to.
"Here, let me do that for you." Eleven grabs a tissue paper and wipes it on Sol's face. Sol looks intently at Eleven's pink cheeks. He wants to squeeze her cheeks tight. He then looks on her lips. It's as plump as a cherry, as pink as bubblegum.
While Eleven wipes off Sol's cheek, he notices a mole. He's pretty cute. She thinks to herself. Just when she was about to remove her hands, she slowly looks at his eyes. He's staring at her. She feels his eyes staring at her cheeks and her lips.
They keep staring for a second, until Sol grasps what happens and coughs up.
*Cough* "I'm sorry." Sol apologizes nervously as he grabs his fork and spoon while grabbing another tissue to stimulate a rubbing motion on his cheeks as if he's finishing what Eleven was doing.
"It's fine, don't worry about it." Eleven laughs. She realizes that however uptight and fierce Sol may look like from afar, he's just a cute clumsy guy when you get to know him better. "Let's just finish eating."
After they finished eating, they stopped on a mall bench, discussing what to buy.
"Eleven, what does your friend like? Any details on him?" Sol asked Eleven.
"Well, he's—"
"Woah, woah. He?"
"Yeah, he."
"So, is 'he' like a male 'he' or something?"
"Yeah, what do you think does 'he' correspond to, Sol?" Eleven asked.
"Well, I don't know. I mean, what's your relationship with him?"
"I don't know, maybe friends I guess?"
"I guess? What does that mean? Is it Bonn?" Sol asked, now even more intently and with more curiosity. Eleven chuckles, then stands up from the bench and walks away slowly, her back facing Sol's.
"Hey, Eleven, where are you going?" Sol said as he slowly gets up from his chair and follows Eleven. "I mean, like— what do you mean? You haven't answered my question yet."
"Stop making noises, Sol" Eleven laughs, while slowly doing a 180-degree turn, now facing Sol.
"All you've got to know," Eleven then puts her index fingers on Sol's nose and continues, "all you've got to know is that you have similar tastes." Eleven smiles and turns her back again on Sol while skipping through the tiled floors.