The Brunch Spot. Mac had only ever heard about it in passing whispers at grocery stores, school hallways, bars, offices, and parks. He knew the stories, all true: their pancakes have dunked Fortune 500 boardrooms into WWE-style free-for-alls, their eggs benedict have started fifteen different cults and one failed revolution, their coffee has assassinated not two, but three heads of state (one mid-sip), and their head chef… If somebody ever took him out, the global markets would nosedive at 13,333 feet per minute into the Bay and the entire world would writhe in unspeakable pain for at least a week of televised mourning. It was the Bay’s. No. The world’s foremost brunch spot. And Hannah was inviting him like they were just grabbing pancakes at IHOP, not even Black Bear Diner. No. This called for him to clean up just a bit.

  “Now, where did I put my Sunday best?” he asked himself.

  Then he found it, neatly pressed and hanging on a rack: one of his two black button-down shirts. “Been a while since I needed to tuck my shirt in…”

  He slipped it on and buttoned it up, leaving the collar and the one below it undone. Mac stuffed the hem into his jeans and stretched his arms up and out, getting his tuck just so. Straightening his collar, he sussed Hannah observing him as he glanced into the full-length mirror, the same look she used when watching the news: emotionless, cerebral, discerning. Before he could process what he was seeing, she was already facing the other way, her gaze locked on to the opposite wall.

  Was she… checking me out?

  He blinked.

  Can’t be. Oh no… Am I being unprofessional? Is there something wrong with how I look?

  Running his hands down the front of his shirt, he smoothed the wrinkles until he got it to a socially acceptable level. “Eh, good enough.”

  Wait… I forgot to roll my sleeves up! Knew I was missing something!

  Mac rolled them past his forearms. Then he grabbed his belt and put it on without any further ceremony.

  He walked into the bathroom a room over, picked up a small tub of pomade next to the sink and grinned at his reflection.

  Never imagined my hair could look like a lion’s mane, but when Tar sent us her pictures from that night at the Quantum Promenade, I was completely sold. Thanks Hannah!

  He set it back down and pondered, his eyes wandering to the ceiling.

  Seriously though, why DOES she spoil me so much? There’s cheaper stuff that works just as well… Is it for the mission? Why else would she give me those T-shirts, the truck, and that suit? We barely even know each other… Yeah, that’s it. Gotta be.

  With a wistful sigh, Mac opened the tub, wet his hands in the sink, and scooped a dime-sized glob. Rubbing it between his palms, he ran it through his hair like Hannah had told him: “Quickly, like you don’t give a fuck.”

  He glanced in the mirror and smiled.

  Perfect. Man, how’d she come up with this stuff? He chuckled, doing his best Gordon impression. Sounds like something Dad would say.

  As he stepped out of the bathroom, he saw her leaning against the kitchen counter, staring into space. She wore her usual tan combat boots, a modest white sundress with small pink flowers on a twisting vine crawling up one side, and—did she add some blush?

  Mac caught himself staring, but didn’t stop. He walked up to her.

  She’s been dressing nicer ever since that night at the ramen shop. Spring comes for us all, I guess.

  Beaming, he chuckled. “Sundress and combat boots? Looks good on you! You didn’t seem like the type to own one of those, but I like it!”

  Hannah looked at the floor and swished her dress, fidgeting from side to side. “Oh…” The word lingered before carrying on. “Thanks… Wanted to change things up today. Tar was right. It would be a waste of this weather to wear my usual. I just thought it would make me look a little… different. D-do you really think so?”

  Her gaze lifted, locking onto his. Mac blinked, her intensity catching him off guard. Thump-thump, thump-thump, THUMP-THUMP! For a moment, their heartbeats surged like two cities’ electrical grids spiking wildly, suffering from the same straining, ancient power plant feeding them.

  What is this feeling?

  The moment hung. His stomach flipped. Why’s she looking like she’s gonna EAT me? Then Hannah tripped the circuits, tearing her eyes away from him almost imperceptibly fast.

  Quick, say something! I don’t wanna get eaten alive!

  “Hannah…” Mac replied, his voice warming. “Of course! You look amazing no matter what you wear. Have some confidence, dude!”

  A regal smile graced her lips.

  Rosy cheeks…

  “Y-you’re right. I should be more confident. Should we get going?” Hannah asked.

  “That’s the spirit. C’mon.” Mac grabbed his keys from the holder beside the door and spun them around his finger in an atrocious mockery of the way Hannah did it as they headed out the door.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Hannah snickered.

  “I heard that!” Mac yelled.

  Her giggles grew louder as she shut the door behind them. “Eheheheh!”

  ---

  Then they stood before Yoked Abe Lincoln without the top hat. He had the typical bouncer fare on: earpiece, clipboard, and enhanced vision. One glowing red eye, and one covered by a dark monocle. His lens sparked, then went kaput. “Your vibes… They’re too… IMMACULATE. ENTER. NOT EVEN A QUESTION.” With a trembling hand, he opened the door for them and waved them through, mumbling something under his breath about not being worthy.

  They stepped through the door to Breakfast Heaven, a repurposed community center. Sheikh and bum, wage slave and empress, sat side-by-side in rows of shared simple wooden tables, indulging in the morning’s blessings. Cybernetically enhanced waitstaff danced, spun, and jerked around each other, a flash mob mass dance in the exact intersection between efficiency, courtesy, explosiveness, and athletic grace. The greasy, salty air of caramelized bacon, probably fried up by angels, was indelibly cooked into the walls, the tabletops, and the ceiling. Rays of the mid-morning light poured through the stained-glass windows mounted high on the walls. Macaroni mosaics, watercolor paintings, and portraits made with colored pencils and markers filled the walls. Indie folk classics from 30 years ago played softly over a tinny PA system.

  I had my doubts, but Hannah was right. This whole place really is a vibe!

  “This. Is. Awesome!” Mac looked at Hannah like he was a kid watching the New Year’s Eve countdown for the first time.

  A waitress skated past them and spun as she chucked coffee, juice, and mimosas like darts: each drink landed on its intended coaster with uncanny precision, not spilling a single drop. Fleet Foxes accompanied the clatter of cutlery and pleasant conversations about mergers and acquisitions, peace treaties, potential TED talk ideas, and the ranting, raving, or gossiping about loved ones as they took their seats.

  “Yeah! I’ve been trying for YEARS to eat here but I guess I needed you—Uhh… Yeah, I guess that was it, huh.” Hannah confessed, a soft, translucent pink painting her freckles.

  Mac began to speak, but the words piled up in his windpipe. “Uh…” He shut his mouth, letting her words hang in the air like a lead balloon floating just out of reach.

  Right. She invited me to brunch purely for professional reasons. Work… stuff. Tar’s suggestion. Skeleton crew. Just us. Totally normal.

  His fingers fidgeted, brushing the stray hairs at his nape, dodging her stunning, frigid eyes. Hannah’s gaze lingered on his face, loitering for an hours-long layover before moving on, barely making its connection.

  Throb! For the second time that day, his heart shook the bars of its cage and started a riot in its prison.

  He blinked, stealing a glance at her from the corner of his eye. Nah. My heart’s telling me otherwise.

  Mac scrambled for the first shelter of reason in the monsoon of perception he now found himself in. Somewhere safer. Somewhere more easily waved away.

  Friends. Yeah! We’re friends now, right?

  A scandalized, retching kid from a nearby table snapped them out of it. Half the restaurant turned around. “MOM! Those people are being super gross! They’re… IN LOVE!”

  Mac whipped around and heckled back. “Suuuure kid. You’ve never seen a couple friends grab brunch? Just because she’s in a seriously cute sundress and I’m in my Sunday best doesn’t mean anything. Ain’t that right, Hannah?” He giggled and rolled his eyes, elbowing Hannah in an invitation to laugh along.

  Hannah slapped his shoulder. A shotgun blast of a shockwave reverberated through Mac, traveling through his legs and into the linoleum floor. “MAC! Don’t encourage him!”

  That hurt…

  “Aw chill, Cheer Captain. He’s just a kid.” Mac said, flipping through the well-loved laminated menu with a pilgrim’s reverence. “Now… Pancakes or waffles? NO. Wait. Bacon nachos? You kiddin’ me? I HAVE to try those.”

  “Yeah, I heard those were pretty good—wait… CHEER CAPTAIN?!” Hannah hissed, her face lighting up as bright as the stack of neon pancakes on the roof. She shook his upper arm, nearly dislocating it.

  Gah. She’s really strong when she’s embarrassed…

  Mac chuckled and rubbed his stubble, shooting Hannah a smile that was all dimples. He stuck his tongue out. “Well… Yeah! Saw that you saved me as ‘Heart Attack’ in your phone. Thought it would be fun to join you.”

  “You WHAT?!” She shook harder, her grip tightening on his arm like a crocodile about to roll their quarry to death.

  The kid piped up again. “See Mom, look! They’re doing it AGAIN!”

  “Next time you open your TRAP like that, we are LEAVING!” his mortified mother warned.

  “FUCK! I misclicked. It was hard enough to make any money competing against AI traders, but now… We’re ruined for the quarter!” a businessman raged.

  “Bravo! Simply inspiring. Now I know what my next movie will be about!” a movie director cheered.

  A group of diplomats ended their war on the spot. “You know what? I’m sick of fighting. All men are brothers. Let’s sign this thing.” Then a round of applause broke out. “May we live in peace from now on.”

  Smack! An Arab princess slapped the table. “I’m calling my boyfriend to break up with him. I want what they have!”

  Hannah let go of his arm and stared at the table, kneading her hands in her lap. “Ugh. I can’t take you ANYWHERE.”

  Mac laughed. “Aww, come on. Don’t be like that. We’re stuck together, remember? Least we can do is get along.”

  “Seriously Mom, make them stop—OWW!” the kid’s mother pinched his ear and whapped some bills on the table with her other hand.

  She yanked him up, starting their walk of shame. “ENOUGH! WE’RE DONE HERE!”

  Mac felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and immediately froze.

  Abe? Shit. Are we getting kicked out? Man, I really wanted to try the bacon nachos…

  Abe leaned in close, his cybernetic eye spazzing and shaking. He cupped Mac’s ear and whispered, an ominous urgency straining his voice. “You two are just who we need. My shift ends at two. I’ll be waiting in the parking lot. Fill you guys in then.”

  “What?”

  Abe clapped a titan hand on his shoulder. PAT PAT! “Enjoy brunch with your girl, man. You guys are ADORABLE together. If we get through this alive, can I PLEASE get an invite to your wedding?”

  Before Mac could comprehend what was going on, Abe had already disappeared into the crowd. He stared at the spot where he stood for a beat before turning back to Hannah.

  Hmm. I’ll deal with that later. Hungry.

  Mac grinned. “So, what are you getting?”

  “Mac, what was that all about?” Hannah asked.

  Mac gestured for her to come closer. Hannah leaned in, a faint blush beginning to spread to the tips of her ears.

  Man! Hannah’s perfume and bacon. Two of the most pleasant smells.

  He cupped his hands over her ear. “Abe wanted to talk to us in the parking lot when his shift ended. Sounded important, but you know… brunch first. What are you ordering? I’m getting the bacon nachos.”

  Hannah whispered back, her voice toeing the line between disbelief and laughter as it tickled his ear. “He said that and you’re focused on BRUNCH?”

  Mac shrugged. “His shift ends at two. We got time. If you get the banana pancakes, will you let me taste them?”

  Her face glowed as her lip quivered. “You…” Then she shook it off and smirked. “Fine. Yeah. But you gotta let me taste those bacon nachos. Those sound bomb as fuck.”

  “Of course.” Mac put his hand out. They shook on it.