Flat-Out Celeste by Jessica Park Page B

that she’d made a presumptive move such as this. It was not her place to do this. But then she noticed that she was using her fingertips to brush off a smattering of crust crumbs that had somehow flown onto his shoulder. “It means that you enjoyed your food. And that I picked a good place.”
    “You’re sweet.” Justin held open the door for her. “So pick another place.”
    Celeste pulled on her gloves. It was quite bitter out tonight. “You’re still hungry?” She struggled to put on her hat while wearing gloves, but Justin wordlessly took her hat in his hands and eased it onto her head.
    “Of course I’m still hungry. Thanksgiving was like training day. Besides, as great as the food is in San Diego, I mostly eat on campus. Stupid dining plans. I have to stock up on good eating now so that I can get through until Christmas break. Campus food everywhere sucks, so that’s why I work part-time as a student liaison. Extra money for real food.”
    Ah, yes, here was the confirmation that Justin was only doing his job. Was it wrong that she wanted to delay the end of the night? That she had been relieved each time he hadn’t mentioned courses, or well-published professors, or all the many accomplishments of Barton graduates? Because she had been. But now it was a matter of waiting for his spiel, signaling the start of the end of their night.
    “So where are you going to take me next?” he asked excitedly. “God, it’s cold. I’m not used to this at all anymore.” He shivered even in his down coat.
    “Hot cider then? At Algiers?” she suggested.
    “Okay, where’s that?”
    She started back towards Brattle Street. “You’ve never been to Algiers? It’s practically an institution here. Dark and worldly,” she hollered through a cold gust that blew their way. “Been here for years, by the Brattle Theatre. The service is dreadful, but that is part of the tradition. You must try the hummus and baba ganoush. Or, if you are still quite hungry, the lamb sandwich.”
    Justin pressed his shoulder to hers as they walked. “Cider first, for sure. Then everything else you mentioned.”
    After running together through the night’s plummeting temperatures, they were soon nestled in a dimly lit corner of the Algiers cafe, surrounded by dark wood and scholarly customers, and both blowing into steaming cups.
    “Where are we going after this?” Justin took a small sip of the scalding cider.
    “It is your belief that you will be hungry still after eating all that we ordered here?”
    “That is my exact belief.”
    She thought for a moment. “I have a plan that will, without question, satiate your desires.”
    “Well, now I can’t wait to hear—“ Justin used his body to turn his chair more in her direction, shaking the table and nearly toppling their ciders. Celeste giggled, and Justin grinned sheepishly. “I know. You can’t be surprised by this point. So tell me this dastardly plan you have.”
    “It is not dastardly, just practical. If you want another true Harvard Square experience, then I will take you to a place that my brother and I love, Mrs. Bartley’s, and we will order you an Upstairs on the Square burger, which is a tribute to the now-defunct restaurant of the same name.”
    “And what makes this burger so special? Why is it better than McDonald’s?”
    “Because McDonald’s is disgusting. and we do not eat there. We eat at Mrs. Bartley’s. The burger I have selected for you comes with no roll, but is instead served on spinach, then topped with chopped egg, bacon, walnuts, tomatoes, red onion, and a lemon vinaigrette.”
    Justin wrinkled his nose and shivered. “I can’t say that sounds good.”
    “I didn’t say it would be good. I said it would be an experience. But by ordering that burger, you get a double-dose of Harvard Square in one dish. I’d advise the addition of blue cheese.”
    “Then I will take your advice. I trust you.”
    “The alternative is that we go to Ben and