Marcus

At the food court, Kent licked the drop of condensation from his soda and let his eyes follow the swirl of colors. Teens darted between tables; families crowded the taco line; cash registers cha-chinged like slot machines, and that was when he spotted him.

Kent felt his jaw tighten—not from Julie’s body, not from clenching, but from holding back laughter. Marcus, the dipshit, was across the foodcourt. He was barely working, barely moving, definitely not getting his ass handed to him like Kent had.

Hm, an ice cream sounded perfect right about then.

The line in front of the counter was growing. Kent stayed locked in on Marcus, who seemed to liven up as more customers came up to him. A cone tumbled from the shelf, and Marcus lunged to catch it, eyes still fixed on the growing line.

“Working hard or hardly working?” Kent-as-Julie asked.

Marcus looked up, ice cream dripping. He studied Julie’s face, momentarily blank as he tried to keep his eyes up, then shrugged it off. “Well hey, gorgeous! What can I get ya?”

Kent tilted his chin toward Marcus. “Looks yummy.”

“Everything’s good. We’ve got a special on sundaes,” Marcus said, his eagerness blinding him to Kent’s trap.

Kent tapped a finger against Julie’s lips as if sampling a menu. “You seem pretty familiar with all the options.”

Marcus laughed. “Just about! Try the peanut butter fudge. It’s my favorite.”

“Of course it is.” Kent winked, watching Marcus hesitate, regroup. “It’s also the most fattening, isn’t it?”

Marcus’s jaw tightened. “Only if you eat a lot of it.”

“I can see you do,” Kent replied, faux-sweet.

Marcus scratched his head, eyes dropping to Julie’s tits for a moment. Predictable. “Let me, uh, scoop you something else?”

“I like it when boys make the hard decisions for me.”

“Great! So, uh, which flavor?”

Marcus’s overconfident smile slipped as Kent leaned across the counter, chest forward, eyes wide. “Hmm. I’m actually in the mood for something hot. Got anything?”

Marcus coughed and adjusted himself covertly, but Kent saw. He knew exactly what that meant. “Uhhh… smoothies?” he offered, gesturing toward the menu.

“What is your recommendation for that?” Kent batted his eyelashes, savoring the flicker of uncertainty on Marcus's face.

Marcus shrugged as if clueless about smoothies and girls—though he was still less clueless than Kent had been when Julie caught him over her car. “Pretty good with mango, pretty sure with yogurt,” Marcus said. “Kinda on the cold side, though.”

Kent tilted his head. “Didn’t I say I wanted something hot?”

Marcus nearly choked. He stammered, then tried to mask it with a laugh. “Well, uh, it’s California. People like refreshing things in this heat.”

Kent grinned, all teeth and challenge. “I’m not most people. But do your best.”

Marcus smiled back, but a bead of sweat crept down the side of his face. He busied himself with the blender, trying to keep his eyes off Julie’s chest. He took his sweet time, preparing the smoothie with such care that he spilled half of it on the floor.

Kent couldn’t help but laugh—Julie’s laugh. It had taken less effort than working for Julie, less time than repaying his debt, and it felt more satisfying than both. He leaned on the counter as Marcus took another stab at the drink, muttering and chuckling under his breath.

When Marcus finally handed over the cup, Kent said, “Not quite what I asked for.”

Marcus asked, “Too cold?”

Kent lowered his voice. “Too smooth,” he said, letting the words hang. “I like things a little rough.”

Marcus stuttered out an apology, gripping the cash register with both hands. He glanced at the backup forming in the next stall. His line grew longer with every moment passing.

Marcus tried to recover. “What do I owe ya?” he said, halfhearted.

Kent tilted Julie’s head again. “Funny, you do owe me something.”

Marcus froze, panic flashing in his eyes before he plastered on a thin smile. “Julie?” he asked as if suddenly remembering who she was, who he thought she was.

Kent waved a hand, letting Marcus sweat it out. “This one’s on you,” he said, and Marcus cracked like ice cream under hot lights, on the verge of meltdown. Before Kent could strike again, a hand clamped onto Marcus’s shoulder.

“Don’t let me interrupt.” A man in his twenties, with a deep frown and a deeper tan, stepped up.

Marcus spun around, color draining. “Uh, hey, Steve. Just finishing up with—”

“Your break started ten minutes ago. I’ve got orders to fill.” Steve’s eyes darted between Marcus and Kent-as-Julie, as annoyed as the rest of the crowd. “Do you actually want to work here?”

“Yes. I mean, yes, sir,” Marcus stammered.

Kent almost laughed, slipping the straw into his mouth as Marcus fumbled, mortified.

Steve hauled Marcus away, leaving a coworker to man the counter. Marcus glanced back at Kent, desperation in his eyes.

“You. Break. Now.”

Marcus nodded, shoulders slumped, the dejected **** of a guy surrendering time, paycheck, dignity. “Uh, sorry. I mean, hold on.”

Kent grinned, whispered Julie’s sweet nothing as he withdrew. “I’ll come back another time. If you’re still here.” He turned on his heel and left. The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea, whispers and stares following him all the way out.

Kent burst into the open air, laughing harder than he had since the body swap. Marcus wasn’t the only one who could leave someone else holding the ball. He stashed his purchases in the car, tossed Julie’s purse into the front seat and headed home.

He had great plans for the rest of the day.

Julie’s tires melted into the road.

For more chapers and stories, support or follow my profile https://www.outfoxstories.com/user/Eb18/