Chapter Four - Unexpected Antics

Amara finished putting some lip gloss on; she wasn t going anywnhere crazy, probably, but It was a step up from Carmex. She 'd cleaned up from work, put on some light makeup, and wore capris and a loose semi-sleeve shirt that almost fell off one shoulder. She was going to be comfortable, and she was going to look nice doing it. She could put forth the effort of looking prettier when she had gotten more sleep. And if he actually asked her out. First, to see if he was still around.

Checking to make sure her phone was in her back pocket, she popped down to the bakery. There wasn't anyone left other than her uncle Don checking inventory again. She glanced out the front window; Declan wasn't at those tables either.

"He left a while ago," Milo  said behind her, making her swear and jump. "Want to text him?”

Amara scowled at him as she reached for her phone. "I was just—" Her phone wasn't there. She checked her other pockets.

Milo  grinned and held up her phone. Again.

Amara glared at him and reached for it. He stepped back. She jumped on him, wrestling his arms down. "Milo !"

Milo 's thumb was struggling to send a message. "Just let me hit send okay?"

"Milo ! What are you saying?" Amara demanded, refusing to let up.

"Just that you're done! Gosh! You act like I'm flirting with him or something." He grinned at her.

Amara narrowed her eyes. "Not with my phone you're not. Give it back!" Why did his stupid arms have to be longer than hers? They were the same height, after all, even if he was her younger cousin. She pinched him.

Milo  winced as he finally managed to hit the final button, and relented. "Alright, fine! Geez! Here, take it.”

She snatched it from his hand, and read the message sent. "Done with work, where are you?"

"If he doesn't message back, give me his number and I will spam him," Milo  said, suddenly at the stairs.

She scoffed.

" i will!"

"Did he already text back?"

"No, but I'm still going out for a bit.”

"Do try to be back before 5 AM, Amara," Don called out as Milo  went upstairs. "Please.”

Amara walked over to her uncle. "Don't worry, Don; last night was not normal. You know that. But I'm definitely getting more sleep tonight." She smiled at him.

He smiled back. "Good. Sal will be happy to hear that, too.”

"Well you'll have to tell her for me," Amara said as Milo  came back down. She kissed her uncie's cheek, then went over and took her purse from Milo .

"What, no love for me?"

She shoved her purse at his face and almost knocked him over. "That's what you get.”

He held himself up on the wall. "Fine, see if I fetch your purse again!”

"You owe me more than that, dear cousin.”

Milo  rolled his eyes.

She smirked at him, then left out the back. As she started walking, she got a text. 2 blocks down at Fils de Fantaisie. Are you done done?'

Amara snickered under her breath. "Coming now."

Declan inspected various scarves in a little shop much more intently than normal, but he was waiting for Amara. He needed to look like he was doing something, something other than simply waiting, or staring blankly into space like he had earlier. Not that he actually had been, he had been thinking of all the different things he could do to improve the pastry he'd had there, but Amara didn't know that. He wondered if she was the one who made them, or if that was someone else's job. Or did they all do everything? It was a small enough shop that maybe that was the case.

"You looking for a scarf?"

Declan turned at the familiar voice and smiled; Amara. He was transfixed again at seeing her in casual wear, which was comfy on the edge of sexy. The bare shoulder definitely contributed to that. "How many versions of you are there?" he murmured.

"What?"

He shook his head. "You look great in everything I've seen you in so far."

Amara laughed. "This is practically the only clean outfit you've seen me in."

He grinned. "And?"

Amara just shook her head with a smile, then tilted her head towards the door. "Let's go."

He left without a second glance at the scarves. He had plenty of them already. Amara was much nicer to look at, with her very short dark hair, almost like a bob but a little longer, past her ears, and sandals that showed off her toes.

As they walked down the street together, Declan started talking in Arabic. "So, did you have a particular thing in mind? Or did you want to just walk around for a while?"

"I was thinking of getting a coffee, chatting for a bit," Amara replied in Arabic, hand on her purse like it lived there. "Unless you had other ideas?"

"No, no not really," Declan said. Which was true; he hadn't thought further than getting to see her again. Realistically, anyway. He'd imagined going around and holding hands, maybe, and he wanted to see her in more outfits; but he knew it was too soon for that. "That sounds lovely. I will get a smoothie maybe, or slush. Or even a milkshake. Hmm; where did you want to go?"

"La Petit Parfait. They have shakes too."

Declan nodded. "Before you ask, no I do not drink coffee. It doesn't agree with me, and I prefer hot chocolate."

Amara raised her eyebrows a bit, though more in an intrigued way. "Well, like I said, they have milkshakes; and hot chocolate."

Declan nodded. "Wonderful. Shall we?"

She smiled and he had his arm out for her to take, but she didn't noticed and turned down a street. He followed her to the shop. The line was not very long, and Declan hardly had time to look over his options before they were at the counter. Amara looked at him questioningly.

"Aah, I will have… a chocolate milkshake, please," he said in French to the woman at the counter. She put it in, and he glanced at Amara. "What do you want?"

"Just a small moccaccino."

Declan nodded, then looked expectantly at the register person. She told him the cost, and he checked his wallet. He paused, not seeing his card. He checked the other pocket. Mercies of the heavens, he had enough cash on him. He'd forgotten his card back at home. He generally spent it on cooking items. But he smiled and gave her the coins, getting a little change back.

He turned to Amara as they stepped to the side. "So do we wait here or do we find a table?" he asked, returning to Arabic again. He missed getting to use the language, his father usually preferred French, and he loved hearing Amara use it.

"We can sit," she said, gesturing to a small table by the wall and heading over to it.

Declan nodded, watching her fluid movements with a smile. Then he followed and sat down opposite her. "Do you know many people who get to speak Arabic with you regularly? Your accent is beautiful. Why are you in France?"

Amara put her purse on the back of the chair with a scoff. "Let me sit down for a second, will you?" She chuckled, then continued. "One of my aunts speaks it with me here, and I Skype my cousin at least once a week. My other cousin, back in Morocco."

"Morocco?" he asked, only more intrigued, and leaned on the table. "What part? Are you from there, or is that just where your cousin lives? How much family do you have in Lyon?"

Amara leaned against the wall and crossed her legs. "So curious. I get to ask the next questions. I'm from Taroudant, a little bit south of Marrakesh, although my cousin lives in the area too. I have one direct aunt in Lyon, the rest are extended family."

"Fascinating," Declan said, then barely held his tongue before more questions came pouring out. "Right. Your turn."

"How many siblings do you have?

"Two, although my sister died a number of years ago so just one now, and he is married now." He had gotten better at saying that without too much tightening of his throat.

Amara's look became sympathetic as she leaned forward. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I mean, good for him that he's married, but…"

Declan nodded, blinking back a few tears. "Yeah." It was still hard to think about too much. And he was also left to help their dad with everything, and the animals, and do his own things. He usually didn't mind terribly, though. He moved on, gesturing with his hands. "What about you? Siblings? Cousins?"

Amara smiled again. "Both. I've got three siblings back in Morocco, and two cousins. The other two are now married, and my little sister is graduating secondary school this year. My brothers are still working through that. I thankfully finished that a while ago."

Declan chuckled. "Same here. What did you want to study? Get into? Are you looking into that here? Do you have very many classes?"

"I don't have any classes, actually."

Declan blinked. "Oh?"

Their order was called, and Declan quickly got up. He handed Amara her steaming moccaccino, and took hold of his milkshake with both hands as he sat down again. He looked at her expectantly.

She blew on her drink. After a moment, she continued. "I'm not in any university right now. And I don't plan to be."

"Ah. Well I'm not either. Taking any classes, that is."

This time she blinked. "Oh? Are you still looking for a school? Or are you taking some time off?"

"Um, more the latter, I think," Declan said, glancing at his shake. "I actually already graduated, mostly."

"What? No way. What do you mean mostly?" She was intrigued now, but not really how he wanted her to be.

"Aaahh, I just need to take one more test," he half-lied. "The time limit was a few years so I haven't really worried about it."

"And what kind of test has that much leeway?" she asked dubiously.

He grinned. "A culinary test!"

Her eyebrows raised.

He continued grinning. "I've done the classes. But some family things happened and I didn't get to take the test for that year." He'd also fallen into a bad depressive phase, but she didn't need to know that. The family excuse had been enough for the other classmates as well, though the university had records on the actual dilemma. They'd been willing to work with him, at least. He just needed to get around to taking the final exam, and one or two of the other class finals. He sipped his milkshake. The chocolate was a little stronger than it needed to be.

"Sooo… when are you planning to do that?" She glanced at his milkshake, then sipped her own drink.

Declan shrugged. "Eventually. What about you? What do you want to get into?"

Amara concentrated on her moccaccino. "Not anything in particular, really. I'm working on things meantime, in the bakery and such."

"And… at parties? Clubs?"

She smirked slightly. "Sometimes… online too."

What? What did that smirk mean? He leaned forward. "You, Miss Amara, are very interesting," he said, entranced by the way her lips curled around her cup and her face.

Her smile broadened. "I'm glad to hear it," she said. "You're not too bad yourself, Monsieur Chef."

His heart fluttered, and he resisted the urge to brag and tell her his actual chef name: Le Fromage. He was avoiding the limelight while he could, even if he could use it to impress people. He would simply have to show her sometime. That reminded him about cooking, and that he still needed to do some of that for M. Peluche. Who was still in the prison on this side of the city. And he lived on the other side.

Declan sighed. "I just remembered that I have to go help a friend now." He got up and bowed to her. "I have very much enjoyed spending time with you today. Since neither of us has classes to attend to, we should do this again soon." He flashed her a brilliant grin.

He saw her blush a bit. "Oh. Well, um, yeah. Definitely. Just text me."

He nodded. "I shall!" Then he dashed off, through the streets of Lyon. He would get Duponthis food before dark, and then the gendarmerie would have even less to be suspicious about, or poke and prod at him for. But even if they did, the image of Amara's smiling face would help him keep smiling too.