The Float

Joining the team leads to living a dream

Globs of wet newspaper lay all over the concrete floor. The room smelled like a moldy house.

"It still looks like a beehive!"

"Just cake it on like I showed you; I'm telling you: floats never look right until they're ninety percent done."

Yuri looked at the float on the other side of the warehouse, with its proud American flag and bunting. He looked back at the gooey pile of plaster and chicken wire in front of him and frowned. Jill looked up again and offered a beautiful, reassuring smile.

"Let's switch. You mix the plaster, I'll—" Her phone rang. "Damn it! Yuri, you just wiped your hands, can you get that!" She turned around so he could reach the phone in her back pocket.

Yuri's shivered. He had volunteered for this just to spend time around Jill. Now—! He carefully slid her phone from her pocket, trying not to touch her behind and creep her out. He handed it to her. "Here ya go." His voice cracked, and she giggled.

"Could you hold it up to my ear so I can talk?"

Yuri trembled slightly as he held the phone to her ear. He stood close, inhaled her mild perfume, admired her exquisite profile. He managed to look away just in time as she ended the call. Almost.

"Thank you, Yuri," she said quietly, so close to his face he could have— She leaned forward and gently kissed him, blushing. "A call has never had better timing in my life."

She winked, and Yuri knew he no longer had a crush on her; he was in love. And from the look on her face, so was she.

He didn't know how the wet lump of plaster would turn out, but Yuri's heart was floating as high as the clouds.



(Word Count: 300)