8. French Pastries, a blue suit, a record player

“Oh my gosh,” I stifle a laugh. It comes out as a snort, “You look like Willy Wonka.”

“Shut up,” He hisses.

“But… you’re blue.” I wipe tears from my eyes. I put on a high pitched distressed voice, “Violet you’re turning violet!”

“Look, this was the only thing they had,” He sighed, rubbing his temples.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. If,” I take a deep breath, “If you call me Steve.”

“Steve?” He raises a brow. His face contorts with realization when he gets it, “No. I’m not calling you that. You’re name is Legend, nothing else.”

“C’mon, it’ll be hilarious. I can call you blue like from-“

He shakes his head. “Let’s just go.”

“Blue is very becoming on you,” I straighten his tie and we go out. I wear a nice simple dress. It’s loose and black and flows around me. I kinda look like a queen while he… he looks like a berry.

“Yea well at least my clothes don’t reflect the color of my soul,” He mutters as he locks the door of the house.

“One must not treat a lady like so,” I say with dramatic hand gesture.

“One must be open to hearing the truth, even if it hurts,” He winks in my direction. I huff in mock anger.

We walk to the mall. People look at us. We pretend to be movie stars. We were gonna have friends be our body guards but for some crazy reason, it was lame excuse day.

“Oh Roan, look at all these petty people, I haven’t been among the common man in so long,” I sigh dramatically and looks out at the imaginary crowd. There’s like only 10 people within sight.

“Neither have I love, so strange, oh look,” He points out someone at the ice cream store, “That one’s using cash. How quaint.”

“Thank god you wore this suit, otherwise no one would know who you are.” I poke him in the ribs. He bumps me with his elbow.

My apologies, I did not see you there,” He says, poking me back. It goes on for a while, us making fun of everyone.

We finally get tired and go to a coffee store. We order croissants and pay with cash. He sits down at the table and I join him. The lady walks the pastries over and does a double take when she sees Roan. It takes a lot for me not to laugh. He looks awful. A light blue suit and his long curls going everywhere. He’s still handsome but not anyone I would want to be seen with. Well, if I wasn’t dating him.

“We need music,” I murmur. The lady hands us our drinks and points to an old record player.

“You can play something on that if you want, it’s mostly for decoration but it still works,” She smiles sweetly, “For you two, I’ll let it play. I assume you know how to work one?”

“Um yea, yea of course,” I almost break my disguise and start laughing again. She feel for it, sorta. She’s letting us do things because we look famous. We walk over to the record player. Roan picks out a record. It’s for West Side Story. “Nerd.”

“Shut up,” He mutters as he sticks on the player. Then messes with it for a few minutes. He finally gets it to work and the sound of snapping fills the room. “Would you like to dance, ma’am?”

“Yes sir, I would love to,” I smile at him. We dance like it’s a waltz. Which makes no sense but it’s still fun. I’m dancing with Roan. Roan who can kinda rock a baby blue suit and Roan who loves old musicals and Roan who is a complete dork. I grin up at him.

“What?” He smiles back.

“You’re really cute,” I sigh.

“You too,” He laughs. It’s perfect.

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