“A million candy bars to win,” Jake read the wrapper. They were sitting on the curb in front of a 711. Two hip kids on a quest to become cool, an adolescent pursuit.
“I thought you were gonna say a million bucks or something,” said Alice.
“A million candy bars is still a lot. A million of anything is a lot.”
“Not a million microbes.”
“Yeah,” he admitted.
“And not a million raindrops.”
“Depends. How many raindrops are there in an average rain?”
“I don’t know,” she said and got up. She walked a few steps to peer over the 711 parking wall to the next one over. As she rose to her tip toes, he fixated on her ass. He loved her for her ass and was ready to die for her ass. He would walk to the ends of earth for that ass, and so on.
“A million kisses,” he started quietly.
“What?” she said.
“Nothing.” It was lame. Too lame even for his age and state of inlovingness.