Date: Sat, 12 May 2007 10:07:57 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jack Frost <unpetitpoissonbleu@yahoo.ca>
Subject: Moving On - Ch. 13

A special thanks to Sharon for the excellent editing work!

Un remerciement special a Francois pour la correction des textes francais
et pour le " betareading " !!!

And finally, many thanks to a certain goat with sunglasses, CJames the
betareader!


	I was sitting down on a marble block at Place-d'Armes staring at
the Notre-Dame Cathedral, taking some photos of the 19th century neo-gothic
church. Next to the church is the Vieux Seminaire (Old Seminary), and
according to the little tourist guidebook I picked up from a tourist office
at Place Jacques-Cartier, the Vieux Seminaire is the oldest building in the
Vieux Port, built in 1684. The two-story building was shaped like a U with
the wings pointing to the street, rue Notre-Dame, and it was made from
rough-cut fieldstones. The guide also pointed out that the outdoor clock
high over the front doors was supposedly the oldest running clock in North
America, dating around 1702. A matching stone wall surrounds the
seminary. It's a pity it's closed to the public just because the Notre-Dame
cathedral's priests are still living there.

      Ben and Adrien came out of a little shop across the narrow
street. All the streets are usually narrow in the Vieux Port, as the
forefathers never envisioned we would have needed wider streets to handle
cars. Most of the streets only allow one-way traffic with barely enough
room to park on the side. So, the streets are usually two and half or three
and half cars wide. The streets weren't very crowded now because it wasn't
tourist season and it was too cold for people to be outside forever. My
face was already feeling numb, but I took out my scarf from my book bag and
it helped a lot to guard it from the wind.

	Ben handed me a bottle of water that he'd just bought from the
little shop for me. It is interesting to me to see that in Canada, every
single word on every product is always written in French and English. And
that made it quite easy for me to learn some new words. Hmmm, water would
be `eau', sounds easy to say.

	"Ee-oh..." I said to Ben.

	"What?" Ben looked at me in confusion.

	"Ee-oh..." I pointed at the word `eau' on the bottle.

	"Oh, water...well, like the `o'sound in `moe'," Ben explained.

	"Oh..."

	"Yep, like that. `Eau' is the same as saying `oh'. It exactly
rhymes," Ben grinned, "Easy, eh?"

	"Yeah...simple," I took another gulp of water before putting it in
my book bag or otherwise it would freeze.

	"C'mon, just a couple more spots to show you and we'll go get some
lunch at the mall," Adrien got up to start walking,

      We walked back to Place Jacques-Cartier and Adrien showed me a big
neo-classic 19th century building with a silver dome that used to be a
market, but now is little shops for Quebecois crafts and artworks. Again,
some photos, I just couldn't resist. Then we walked back to cobble stoned
rue St-Paul, again feeling like in Europe, checking out buildings mostly
from the 19th century with occasional 18th century buildings in
between. Ben explained that the Vieux Port grew so much as a commercial
center in the 19th century, so the 18th century buildings were mostly
transformed to 19th century design. Then Adrien told me you could tell the
age of the building by the stones. If they're smooth cut, they're 19th
century and after. If they're rough cut, they're from the 18th century,
mostly from the days when the French ruled the city until they lost it in
1760, a year after the fall of Quebec City to the British. Surprisingly,
according to the guide, even though the city was founded in 1642, there
were only two surviving 17th century buildings at the Vieux Port. One was
the Vieux Seminaire that I had already looked at and the other would be the
old hospital, Hopital General. And it was right in front of me after ten
minutes of walking on the street.

	"Not bad...not bad...very similar to the Vieux Seminaire except
it's like L, not U-shaped," I commented about the fieldstone building, "Can
we go in?"

	"No...the nuns still live there," Ben said like it was too obvious.

	"Shit...do all of the religious nuts keep all of the oldest
buildings in the city closed to everyone?" I groaned.

	"Well, there is one house further west that is the oldest of all in
the city and is still open for tours. No nuns or priests there," Ben winked
his eyes.

	"Good...you better take me there sometime," I kissed him on the
cheek behind Adrien's back. I don't know if it was the cold wind or the
kiss that made his cheeks a little bit red.

	We walked down a paved street to a modern building with a small
tower. Behind it is a small park with an obelisk monument in the middle. I
looked closely at the inscriptions.

	" Le XVIII mai MDCXLII. Pres de cet obelisque entre le fleuve et la
riviere qui coule sous la rue des Commissaires a l'endroit appelle Place
Royale par Champlain, le XXVIII mai MDCXI. Paul de Chomedey de Maisonneuve
jeta les fondements de la ville de Montreal. Il erigea les premieres
habitations, le port, la chapelle, le cimetiere qu'il renferma dans une
enceinte de pieux. "

	"What does it say?" I asked Ben and Adrien.

	"Oh...ahem...May 18th, 1642. Close to this obelisk between the
river and the creek that used to run under the street of `Commissaries' at
the spot called `Royal Place' by Champlain, May 28th, 1611. Paul de
Chomedey de Maisonneuve threw the foundations of the city of Montreal. He
erected the first buildings, the port, the chapelle, the cemetery that he
surrounded by wooden walls," Ben translated.

	"So basically, that's where the city was founded and first
settled. Right here," Adrien summed up.

	"Thanks..." and I took a photo of the place and we kept walking. It
was time to get to the metro station before we froze our asses off. We
walked along the riverside street where we could see the ice-choked
St. Lawrence River a little further beyond the quays of the port that have
been converted mostly into parks and a dropping point for cruise ships.

	We were back up Place Jacques-Cartier, taking some photos of the
city hall and the old building across the street from the city hall. That
building used to house Montreal governors during the French regime since it
was built in 1705. Adrien had been right so far, still a rough fieldstone
building, indicating its age was back to the old French days. We walked
between the city hall and a 19th century courthouse, past the remains of
the city walls. We were walking a little fast to the metro station because
the wind was so fucking strong in the open field, and with the cold, it
made it feels like –30F. That was enough to make my balls shrink into BB
gun bullets.

	We got in the Champ-de-Mars station heading back to McGill to the
same mall that I had already seen. Ben told me there was a food court one
floor down from the mall entrance doors from the station, and told me I had
to try one of Quebec's most famous foods ever. I hope it wasn't pig-feet
soup...err...`soupe aux pattes de cochon'... that the guidebook mentioned,
because that is just so fucking disgusting. Ben dismissed that since he
finds it gross as well and told me that no one sane enough really eats that
anyway.

	"Ok, why am I looking at the hotdogs, hamburgers, and fries stand?"
I asked as I looked at a place at the food court called `Frank Supreme'.

	"To get some poutine," Ben answered.

	"Puh-what?"

	"Poutine, Quebec's best dish ever. Go...order a regular one..." Ben
pushed me softly towards the college aged girl next to the cash register,
filling up the ketchup bottle.

	"Erm, you first!" I pushed Ben.

	"Ok...ok...ok..." he went to the young lady who noticed Ben coming
up. I followed him behind.

	"Oui?" the lady asked.

	"Eh ben, une poutine reguliere," Ben ordered.

	"Ok...et voudriez-vous de la boisson avec ca?" (Would you like
something to drink with that?) the lady pressed some buttons on the cash
register.

	"Ouais...un Pepsi," Ben completed and paid for his order.

	"Go on, your turn," Ben stood next to me. The lady looked at me and
smiled.

	"Et vous, monsieur?" she said politely.

	"Euhh..." I stared at the menu... "Une poutine regular avec...du
Pepsi?"

	"Bien sur," (Of course) she punched my order into the cash
register, "Hmmm, quatre dollars et cinquante-cinq sous," (four dollars and
fifty-five cents) she said. I took out my wallet, looking for a five... Was
it the green one? No, that was a twenty. Red? No, a fifty. Ah, the blue
ones. I tendered the cash and she gave me some change.

	I waited next to Ben as the guy in a white cook's outfit put some
fries into two plastic plates; put some cheese curds on top, and then
gravy. He gave it to us while the lady got our Pepsi. We looked around the
tables for Adrien, who was supposed to get himself some sushi, and saw he
was sitting not too far from where we got our lunch.

	"Excellent, Steph's first poutine. It's gonna be fattening and all
heaven," Adrien remarked, grinning.

	"Indeed it is..." I stared at the contents of poutine. Oh, what the
hell...I took the fork to eat some. Warm and nice in my mouth.

	"So?" Ben asked, staring at me next to Adrien.

	"Pretty much like I would expect from fries covered with cheese and
gravy. It's good," I took another bite. Ben and Adrien looked absolutely
pleased that I enjoyed it.

	"Good...or otherwise you'd be committing a sin to Mother Quebec,"
Ben took a big bite of poutine, "Crisse...ca fait longtemps que j'en
mangeais..." (Fuck, it's been ages since I ate some) he hmmm-ed at the
taste. Adrien's cellphone rang.

	"Allo? Oui, c'est moi, Adrien. Qui c'est?" (Hello? Yes, it's me,
Adrien. Who is this?) Adrien looked a little confused, "Ouaisss? OH, c'est
toi! Ouais, je me souviens de toi dans l'autobus," (Yeahhh? OH, it's you!
Yeah, I remember you in the bus) Adrien blushed a little, and Ben was
pretending he was still eating, but he was really listening to him.

	"Attends, s'il te plait..." (Wait, please...) Adrien put the phone
against his coat, "Voyons donc, pas de tes affaires, tabarnak!" (C'mon,
none of your business, goddammit) Adrien caught Ben listening, and walked
twenty feet away from us.

	"What?" I asked.

	"Nothing...it made me curious that's all. Look at him, all
smiling," Ben pointed to his brother who was talking out of earshot,
grinning like some goofball, "Look at him. All smiling. Telling me to mind
my damn business. It means there is a girl on the other end. I'll squeeze
him for some info when he's done. It has to be good," Ben smirked and
winked before going back to eating his poutine with one of his eyes on
Adrien, who was still chatting on the phone. After a few minutes, Adrien
came back, sat down and went back to his sushi. Ben started to open his
mouth but Adrien saw that coming.

	"Ta yeule..." (Shut up...) Adrien shot out of his mouth, still
focusing on his sushi. Ben closed his mouth for a few seconds, smirking and
went to say something once more, but Adrien caught him again.

	"Je te niaise pas meme..." (I'm not even joking...) Adrien pointed
his chopsticks at Ben's mouth.

	"C'etait qui?" (Who was it?) Ben defied him.

	"Personne." (No one) Adrien flatly answered back.

	"C'etait qui?" Ben repeated, but Adrien ignored him, "C'etait qui?"
Ben asked again, "C'etait qui?" Ben repeated. Adrien leaned back his chair,
almost wanting to scream to the gods for cursing him by having Ben as a
brother.

	"Ok...coudonc! C'etait Rebecka..." (Ok, jesus! It was Rebecka...)
Adrien's face glowed a little as he blushed.

	"Qui?" (Who?) Ben appeared a little confused at the name.

	"Could you fill me in? My French isn't good enough yet..." I shyly
told them, "Rebecka?"

	"Yeah...the Swede girl we met in the bus," Adrien continued in low
voice.

	"And? And? And? What about her?" Ben pushed him.

	"I have a date with her tonight..." Adrien lowered his voice to a
mere whisper, blushing a little more.

	"Ewwwww!" Ben looked disgusted.

	"What?" Adrien's voice returned to normal, "Is she bad?"

	"Ugh..." Ben stared at Adrien, "Beh...it's so gross, Steph...to
have a breeder for a brother," Ben went into fits of suppressed laughter.

	"Oh god..." Adrien rolled his eyes, "Without the breeders, you gays
wouldn't even be born."

	"I know but how the hell can you put that thing in..." Ben made a
bad fake grossed out look on his face. I started to laugh with him as
Adrien smiled at Ben's silliness.

	"I don't even know how you can put your stick in the hole used for
shitting," Adrien shot back. Ben was left speechless, giggling and
pondering what to say.

	"Because it's natural!" Ben smiled as if it was so obvious before
giggling like a drag queen.

	"You're useless, do you know that? Especially for breeding, I can't
imagine you getting pregnant and giving birth out of your penis," Adrien
smiled, sticking to the facts.

	"I can breed," Ben nodded, again saying it like it was so obvious,
"If I knock up a girl, she will get pregnant unless my sperms are flawed,"
Ben pressed his finger on Adrien's nose, and Adrien pushed it off.

	"Ok...ok...ok...you made your point. You can breed if you do a
girl...but I would never imagine you doing that," Adrien rolled his eyes
before putting his last piece of sushi in his mouth.

	"I would if you pay me $100," Ben retorted.

	"Seriously?" Adrien looked at him all surprised.

	"No. That'd be using her anyway. You should know better," Ben stuck
his tongue out. Adrien looked up at the ceiling, again cursing the gods.

	"I love it when you guys argue. I wish I had a brother," I
commented at both of them.

	"You don't even wanna wish you'd get one. It's hard enough to have
him plus a mischievous twelve-year old," Adrien pointed his finger at me,
"Good thing Ben won't make any little Bens with you or whoever he will be
with as long as he remains as a boy screwdriver." Ben just spat out his
Pepsi at the last word.

	"Jesus, enough with calling me that!" Ben groaned.

	"Well...it's true. Right, Steph?" Adrien smirked at me. Ben's eyes
widened open.

	"Erm...what?" I asked, a little confused at what he was implying.

	"Didn't you guys...well...you know..." Adrien signalled by showing
me the straw going up and down the hole in the lid cover of the his
drink. Ben kicked him at his feet under the table.

	"Erm...no..." I blushed slightly.

	"Oh...sorry," Adrien apologized and then started to smirk for no
reason. Ben caught it.

	"What?" I asked Adrien as Ben looked at him suspiciously.

	"Nothing. It just reminded me of how I caught Ben," Adrien
answered. Once again, Ben's eyes widened and proceeded to kick him again at
his feet.

	"Don't..." Ben started, but Adrien brushed him off.

	"Oh c'mon, it won't hurt telling him this," Adrien smiling evilly,
"Well, that's how I found out that Ben's gay. He was fourteen. I was coming
back from school and Ben was sick and had a day off alone at home. Well,
when I came in...I heard some noises and some panting from Ben's room. I
thought Ben was puking, so I went to get some ginger tea from the stovetop
to settle his stomach when he stopped."

	"Adriennn..." Ben said in a threatening voice, glaring at him with
daggers shooting out of his eyes to stab him mentally.

	"Well, I was wrong," Adrien ignored him, and I nodded to let him
continue, "Once I opened the door, I caught Ben all naked doing some boy
the same age in his bed. He was on his knees, with his hips moving kinda in
circles like getting the screw into the...well...you know," Adrien showed
me his drink, twirling the straw around down the lid cover hole.

	"Whoa...whoa...whoa..." Ben raised his voice, blushing furiously
and a few people around him stared at him, "Enough description..." Ben
hissed. Adrien appeared quite amused and satisfied with how well he got his
brother in an embarrassing position in front of me.

	"Anyway, that's how I found out. Sick my ass...he looked so well
doing that boy that was his classmate. He freaked so much thinking I would
tell our parents on him, but I told him it's a secret between us...well,
till now... I was cool about it from the beginning, just wished I didn't
have to find out like that," Adrien slurped noisily at the last remaining
drops of his drink.

	"So that's where the boy screwdriver name came from," I grinned at
Ben, "It fits you..."

	"Fuck you," Ben gave me the finger, before turning his face into a
smile and getting rid of the blush off his cheeks.

	"So, wanna check out the stores?" Adrien suggested, "I don't have
to go till 5."

	"Yeah...let's see what you have here," I picked up my backpack, all
set to go.

	I walked around the same floor as the food court. In Centre Eaton,
the food court is on the bottom floor and above me are four more
floors. The mall's roof is made of glass high up to let sunlight in. I
walked around, seeing familiar clothing stores I have back in Pennsylvania,
the Gap and Old Navy, but the rest are stores I never heard of, like the
West Coast, Levis Jeans store, Garage, Bleu Marine, and so on. They were
all right, but nothing interesting to check out. So I went to the tunnel
level of the mall to use the tunnel to reach the next mall called the
Complexe des Ailes de la Mode. It was full of fashion brand clothes, and
expensive as hell like Lacoste and Tommy Hilfiger. The mall also had a
bookstore called the Archambault, so I went inside to check it out.

	"Yeah, almost all of the books, CDs, and DVDs are in French here,"
Ben pointed out.

	"No kidding..." I looked at the French language books in all
formats and categories. I picked one off the shelf at random, reading
without having a clue what it was saying, and it was just to see how French
is written out. Something about the US.

	"Don't read that crap," Ben took it out of my hand and put it back,
"Some cheap translation of Michael Moore. He's full of shit."

	"Oh...I looked at the title. Yeah, I agree..."

	"If you want something, I'll get you some good ones," Ben took me
to the section where the dictionaries and grammar books are.

	"Here, a good French grammar book. Anddd...an English-French
dictionary. It's really useful," Ben piled the book in my arms. He walked
to another section, the children one.

	"Erm, I'm no kid you know..."


	"With the French level you're at, it's better to take some kid
books to make reading easier for you," Ben pulled out a paperback, "Ah, le
Petit Prince... One of the best children books in the French
language. Anddd..." Ben pulled out another small paperback, "Harry Potter a
l'?cole des Sorciers. The first Harry Potter book."

	"Thanks..." I looked inside, "Looks neat enough..." I grinned.

	"I'll buy them for you. I got a student ID card. They give 15% off
for students," Ben took the books and asked me for couple of twenties. He
walked to the cashier where he showed his ID before the young girl scanned
the books. It cost me about $35, but as far as where my French level is, it
was well worth the money.

	I walked out of the store with a bag full of books and found Adrien
waiting for us, smiling that I found something after an hour of
shopping. We walked through Centre Eaton again, but just to go to another
tunnel to the next mall, Place Montreal Trust. I found an English language
bookstore there, Indigo, but it didn't interest me much since most of the
books are pretty much similar to those I can find in the States except for
a few Canadian ones.

	"I have to say, it's impressive to see a major city that still has
those malls downtown instead of always outside the center," I remarked to
Ben and Adrien, "And it's a good use of space putting shops in underground
tunnels."

	"You gotta check out Simons!" Ben pulled me to an entrance of a
store with escalators leading up to take us out from the underground
tunnels. The store is pretty much like a department store, but much newer
and cleaner than the ones I see back in Pennsylvania. And the clothes were
much better looking, especially for young people, which most department
stores don't really do a good job in. I could find familiar brands here,
like Diesel and Energie. Sadly, a lot of them were a little to out of my
price range, even putting the currency conversion into factor so I won't
confuse myself with the `higher' illusion of the Canadian dollar. I just
learnt there is a 13.5% sales tax in Quebec, which is twice as high
compared to the 6% I am used to in Pennsylvania. The problem is, in
Pennsylvania, the clothes are exempted from the sales tax while in Quebec,
they aren't. So I must be careful so I don't spend too much on clothes
alone. So, in Montreal, the clothes are considered a little expensive to
what I've been used to all of my life.

	"I wanna try this `Projek Raw' jeans out," I took a pair of jeans
and looked for a fitting room, "Erm...how you say `fitting room' in
French?"

	"Salle d'essayage," Ben pointed at one not too far from the men
jeans and pants section.

	"Bonjour, que puis-je faire pour vous aider?" (Hello, what can I do
to help you?) A young man in a suit and tie greeted me behind the cashier's
counter near the fitting room. Actually, it's a little odd to find
employees at Simons all dressed up... men in suit and tie and women in
trendy dress. They looked really good though.

	"One pair of jeans to try out..." I said in English, knowing I
couldn't think of it in French quickly enough. Good thing my French class
prepared me for the situations with ordering foods and shopping, so I was
able to understand some key words, but answering was another thing that
takes time for me to do in a timely manner.

	"No problem!" The guy replied in English, taking my jeans, and
grabbing a sign with a big `1' on it to hang next to the curtain. He's
hot...being Latino with jet-black hair all spiked up. He unlocked the low
swing door, pulled a curtain, and put the jeans on the chair.

	"If you need something better, just let me know!" he smiled warmly
before pulling the curtain for me. Ok...a small well-lit fitting room with
a big mirror. Hmmm, what is that red bump on my face? I moved closer...

	"Ugh, a small zit... Ok, time to come out buddy..." I whispered at
myself. I could tell the strong lights are showing I need to clean my pores
better. So I squeezed to get the gunk out so it could go away faster.

	I took off my shoes and jeans, and then stopped to observe my
legs. Heh, it's really no fair, Ben's legs are almost smooth while mine are
already hairy all over...though not too much. Funny I always spend too much
time in fitting rooms observing my own body more than the clothes I want to
try on. Ok, shut up and put the jeans on.

	"Hmmm, one size too big..." I pulled the curtain for Ben and Adrien
to see.

	"Hmmm, it hugs that fine ass ok, but could be better. Get it
smaller," Ben suggested. Adrien nodded in agreement.

	"Could you get me a 29 or even a 28 instead of 30?" I asked the
Latino.

	"Eh, sorry, those kinds of jeans only come in 30 and up," he seemed
apologetic.

	"Oh, never mind...thanks," I smiled and went back in the fitting
room to change back. I wouldn't buy them now in case I found better ones
somewhere else.

	Adrien told me he had to meet Rebecka at McGill. So we followed him
because we wanted to see her as well, but I knew Ben had other
reasons... to try to get some revenge on Adrien over what he had said to me
back in the food court.

	We sat down on the steps to a shop within McGill station, listening
to the trains rumbling by and turnstiles clunking very noisily as students
and workers commute home. We waited patiently as people came out in mass
through the turnstiles at each train's passing. It wasn't till 5:15 that
Rebecka finally showed up.

	"Salut Adrien!" she shook his hand and both of them kissed each
other on the cheek.

	"They just met and they're kissing?" I whispered to Ben.

	"It's a cultural to do that actually, to greet each other like
that, even among people who've just met. You do it between a boy and a girl
or between a girl and a girl, never between a boy and a boy, except some
gays ones. You kiss on one cheek, let's say the left one, at the same time
as the other person kisses your right cheek, and then move to the other
cheek, kissing the right one while the person kisses the left one," Ben
carefully explained.

	"Wow, I never knew that... Well, I do know the French people do
that according to my French class, but I didn't think they'd do that
anywhere in North America," I said in an impressed voice.

	"Oh, le frere et son ami! Salut!" (Oh, the brother and his friend!
Hi!) Rebecka proceeded with the kissing-on-cheek ritual with Ben.

	"Hey Rebecka. Moi, c'est Ben et voici Steph," (I'm Ben and here's
Steph) Ben introduced us.

	"Hey Steph!" she smiled warmly at me and went to do the kissing
thing with me. I bumped her cheek a little too hard. She giggled and tried
to back away.

	"Y'est Americain, donc y'est pas habitue a ca," (He's American, so
he's not used to it.)

	"Oh, sorry, I almost forgot," Rebecka blushed a little. She looks
quite Nordic with medium brown hair, pale-white skin, almost supermodel
skinny and tall, and blue eyes.

	"Eh, shall we go eat?" Adrien told Rebecka.

	"Yep, all set. Nice seeing you guys," she waved bye.

	"Call me when you get home and don't ignore your phone if it ever
rings," Adrien told Ben.

	"Yeah yeah yeah, mon maitre," (...my master)

	"I'm serious or I'll tell M'man and she'll straighten you out
before you even know what's coming at you," Adrien warned before leaving.

	"And you'll see what I have planned for you this evening," Ben
winked, "And I even forgot to think of a revenge to embarrass him in front
of her. Shit...next time I'll be ready," he smirked like an imp.

	"What did you plan?" I asked him, feeling a little happy we would
have some time alone together.

	"You'll see. We'll be swimming in sins," Ben winked his eyes.

	We decided to go to a magazine store full of French and English
language materials to kill some time before its decent enough to eat. Then
we sat at Second Cup cafe on Ste. Catherine for a small cup of coffee. As
it was getting closer to six o'clock, we finished up our coffee and went
out to wherever Ben was going to take me to eat.

	"It won't be far, right?" I walked on the lightly snowed-covered
sidewalks along Ste. Catherine, passing by shops already in the process of
closing. It was already dark and snow flurries were falling, dusting
everything in their path. Ben took me two more blocks before turning into a
street called rue Crescent, which seemed to be filled mostly with bars and
pubs.

	"Ben? How old can you drink here?" I asked curiously.

	"Well, eighteen, but we look old enough to be convincing. They
rarely check anyone not obviously too young," Ben answered.

	"But what if we get caught?"

	"Oh, they'll just kick us out. That's the worst they can do, and we
can just go to another pub and try again," Ben shrugged, "Here we are,
supposedly the best Irish pub in the city, Hurley's."

	"Cool, I always wanted to try some Guinness," I smiled before going
inside a Victorian stone building. Inside was quite warm with a few
fireplaces, tables, chairs, and bars. The interior was mostly wood with
hardly any stones or plaster. We took our coats off and picked a table. In
a few minutes, a waitress greeted us with the menus and asked if we wanted
anything to drink.

	"Guinness," I nervously ordered, mentally crossing my finger in my
mind.

	"Sure, and you?"

	"The same," Ben replied.

	"Say, do I know you from somewhere?" the waitress put her mind into
thinking, "Oh! Now I do, you were in my biology class last year as my lab
partner one time."

	"Yeah, now I remember you... You're Marie," Ben started feeling
nervous.

	"But wait, you're not even of age, Benoit. How old are you?" she
asked us.

	"Seventeen..." Seeing that my cover was blown anyway being
associated with Ben.

	"And Benoit is just as old as me. I shouldn't give you drinks, ah
no..." she shook her head.

	"But wait, you're just as old as me and you're working a pub
serving the booze," Ben smirked at her, knowing he probably had her good.

	"Well, heh...you got me there, you little bastard. I'm being paid
under the table and I lied about my age," she blushed a little, "Ok, don't
tell anyone and I'll pretend I never knew your age and thought you're 18,
ok?" she smiled.

	"I'll give you some extra tips for that. Merci, Marie," Ben smiled.

	"De rien, Benoit," (You're welcome) she left to get our drink
orders.

	"God, that was close..." I sighed heavily.

	"Yeah, but again, the worst thing she could do is kick us
out...which she wasn't even considering. Only considering denying us the
drinks. Quebec tends to be quite liberal when it comes to teenage drinking
compared to the rest of Canada and the States. Pretty much like Europe, I
think," Ben calmly answered.

	"I couldn't believe I'm buying my first drink... Illegally though
but still, a first," I said with pride.

	Marie came with our drinks and told us we have to pay for them up
front.

	"Eight dollars per beer? Shit Marie..." Ben groaned as he took out
a twenty out of his wallet, "I'm paying for both."

	"Well, you missed the happy hour an hour ago when it was four
dollars per Guinness," Marie said, sounding apologetic.

	"But..." I started to say.

	"Hey, I told you, I'm doing the planning here, so I pay as well,"
Ben said a little seductively, which caught Marie's attention.

	"Oh god, a date... I should've known," she rolled her eyes, "Ready
to order the food?"

	So Ben ordered an Irish Green pasta, which was just bow-tie pasta
in pesto sauce, with garlic bread and Irish vegetable lamb stew. And as for
me, I decided to have the salmon covered with goat cheese sauce with
potatoes and carrots. For an appetizer, we decided to share a plate of
nachos covered with cheese, baked beans, black olives, and jalapeno
peppers. Marie managed to write all of that down and repeated the order to
confirm.

	Ben and I just talked about some things I have observed so far in
Montreal, particularly the cultural differences until I kept on catching
Ben staring off over my shoulder. I turned around to look at what he was
looking at. A few empty tables away in another room, I noticed a guy with
pale-skin and dark brown hair sitting at a table with another guy sitting
next to him, a little close. Looking cute though, but I turned to see Ben,
who appeared a little nervous that I was trying to figure this out.

	"Sorry, he looked familiar to someone I know," Ben brushed it off
and went back to the subject we were talking about. So I decided to let
that go until, a few minutes later, Ben took another glance over my
shoulder, hoping I wouldn't notice this time, but I wasn't fooled easily. I
looked over, seeing the guy again with his hand under the table on his
`friend's' leg.

	"Explain...now..." I told Ben.

	"Well, I know him. And he knows I'm here. I could see him looking
at me, smiling and wiggling his eyebrows," Ben started to smile,
"Bastard...he's doing it again on purpose." He got up and started to walk
towards him.

	"Erm, Ben...maybe you should sit here and explain to me some more,"
I was starting to think it could be his ex who happened to be here by
coincidence to ruin Ben's night with me. I got up to follow him, so I could
stand next to him in case he needed any defence or help. Ben stood in front
of the guy, and his supposed date. He smiled at Ben, looking all pleased to
see him.

	"Ah, quelle surprise, Ben," (What a surprise) he said with a voice
sounding between a male and a female one, though not girlish or queenie.

	"Que fais-tu ici?" (What are you doing here?) Ben asked him,
keeping his face neutral.


Once again, a special thanks to Sharon for the editing job!!!
Encore un remerciement special a Francois pour le " betareading " et pour
la correction des textes francais !!! 
And finally once more, many thanks to a certain goat with sunglasses, CJames!

Discussion topic can be found here through the link below.
http://www.gayauthors.org/forums/index.php?showtopic=5530
unpetitpoissonbleu@yahoo.ca
E-mails and feedbacks are highly appreciated.

Copyright 2007 by Jack Frost. All Rights Reserved. No parts of this story
may be copied, reproduced, in print or in any other format, without express
written consent from the author.