Beautiful Thing 1989

Joe Jukic leaned against the counter of Cafe Algarve, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he stared into his cappuccino. “You know, Nelly,” he said, his voice tinged with nostalgia, “I still remember that yellow dress you wore at Sister Helen’s sock hop back in ’89.”

Nelly Furtado, seated across from him, raised an eyebrow. She stirred her tea with deliberate slowness, her curiosity piqued. “The yellow dress? Really?” she asked, a playful smirk forming. “What about it?”

Joe chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “It was unforgettable. You lit up the room. I didn’t know how to dance back then—still don’t, to be honest. But I remember making eye contact with you before I chickened out and went outside to smoke those Pop Eye candy cigarettes. You know, the ones that made you feel cool even though you weren’t.”

Nelly burst out laughing, her voice echoing through Cafe Algarve. “Joe, are you serious? Candy cigarettes? You were trying to be a rebel with sugar sticks?”

Joe shrugged, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Hey, they were the height of cool for a 12-year-old.”

Her laughter faded, and her expression turned serious. “Joe, you’re not still smoking, are you?”

He hesitated, his smile faltering. “Well…”

“Joe Camel,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “You’re being targeted for termination.”

Joe blinked, caught off guard. “Termination?”

“That’s right,” Nelly said, her tone firm. “At the Invictus concert autograph signing next month, I’m breaking every single one of your cigarettes. You hear me?”

Joe’s grin returned, this time with a defiant edge. “Come take them, then. Molon Labe.”

Nelly leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, I will. And when I’m done, you’ll thank me.”

Joe’s laughter filled the air, a mix of amusement and challenge. “Alright, Nelly. Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes.”

Cafe Algarve buzzed around them, but for a moment, it felt like they were back in 1989, two teenagers trading playful jabs at a sock hop. Only this time, the stakes were higher, and the laughter was seasoned with the weight of years gone by.

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