"James you don't have to tell me these things. I just—I'm sorry I brought this up."
"No, it's fine.” He looks at me with a kind, warm smile. "My dad, understandably, cut off any financial aid, so I started working the summer before senior year. Found out it drained me more than partying, so I took on as much as possible."
Ah, addiction to work and exhaustion. One more thing we have in common besides the obsession with movies.
"Much more constructive," I say in an attempt to cheer us up.
"You've dealt with things in a constructive way right from the beginning," he says and there's something in his voice that makes the hair at the nape of my neck stand up. I think it's the admiration Parker was talking about.
"Everyone copes in their own way," I say quietly. I sink in my seat as I realize the speed indicator is so far to the right I can't see it at all anymore. "When you said one hour did you mean three hours for normal drivers?"
He smirks. "One of the reasons I thought a blindfold might be useful. By the way, put that back on."
"But I already know you're driving like a maniac," I protest.
"I said that was just one of the reasons." His smirk accelerates along with the car. "We're almost there so I really want you to put that on."
"Fine," I say and I start tying the silk, twitching as I accidentally pull a few strands of hair.
A sharp curve to the right tells me that we are leaving the highway.
"And we're here," James announces a few minutes later. I sit up straight in my seat, pointing my ears as the car slows down and then comes to a halt. A muffled sound comes from outside, like metal scratching. A gate opening, maybe? My guess is confirmed when we start moving again, at a slow pace. We stop again almost immediately and this time I hear James turn off the engine. He gets out of the car without a word. A few seconds later, he (or at least I hope it's James) opens my door. I expect him to take my hand and guide me out, but he lifts me in his arms.
"This is bordering on creepy," I giggle.
"Your faith in me is astounding," James says.
I barely manage to take in a few deep breaths of the warm, evening air when we step into a closed space. A weirdly smelling one too. Good weird. There's a slightly sweet aroma lingering in the air. An aroma I know. An aroma I love.
Chocolate.
It's a few more steps before James finally puts me down and takes my blindfold off. I stare at the long corridor in front of us confused. There’s no chocolate in sight. Only plastic containers, like oversized liquid soap dispensers lined up on each side, and giant glass windows through which huge metal cans and pipes are visible.
"It's not Willy Wonka's factory, but you can try every single recipe they have," James says from behind me.
"Oh wow," I exclaim, realizing that those containers don't have soap in them but chocolate.
We're in a chocolate factory.
I swirl around and throw my arms around his neck, pulling him in a tight embrace. "How is this possible?" I ask, unable to stop my legs from jiggling with nervous excitement.
"A friend of mine owns the factory," he says when I finally step back, allowing him to breathe. "He wants to add a museum to it, to show the process, offer tastings and everything. It won't open for another month or so, so you're their unofficial test customer."
"Fantastic," I say, turning toward the corridor.
"The machines," he points to the huge metal cans behind the windows, "are actually closed at night but I told him you'd care only about the tasting part any way."
"You know me well."
"What are you waiting for? Dig in. And feel free to ignore me, I won't mind."
There is a bowl with mini waffles next to each chocolate dispenser. I grab one and hold it under the first dispenser, pushing the big round button on it. A dark reddish-brown cream decorates my waffle.
"Oh my God. Hot cherry chocolate," I say, shoving the entire waffle in my mouth. "This is a dream come true."
I fill another waffle and wave in front of James's lips, "Come on, just one bite."
"I'm really okay," he says and actually takes a step back.