Gotta Have You

You really suck, you know that?

I finally meet a guy who could possibly fill the hole that breaking up with you left and he just has to pick this coffee shop.

It's New York City, for fuck's sake. You'd think he'd have picked a different café! But no.

I can still remember seeing you for the first time.

I was still living with my parents and the only way to get any privacy was to get away from the house. So I would go to the café every day and write, pumping out chapter after chapter of books that I thought would never get published because I never went to college.

I'd been a regular customer for a while, but you'd just started working there. Imagine my surprise when instead of seeing the teenage, apathetic busboy clearing my plate, I looked up and saw the most breathtaking person I'd ever seen in my life. I don't think you even realize how... entrancing you looked; that carelessly long black hair, that smooth, pale skin, those gorgeous, stunning golden eyes.

"Done with your plate?"

Those were the first words you ever spoke to me and when I heard your soft voice, I knew I had to get to know you.

I was too shy, though. You were too perfect, to good to be true. It took me three months of only hearing the same 4 words and responding with a simple nod every day before I finally summed up the courage to say something to you.

"Done with your plate?"

"Yeah, thanks." I said, smiling widely. Okay, so maybe they weren't the most original first words, but they were a start. "I'm Frank."

"Gerard." you said, shaking my outstretched hand.

"Nice to finally meet you." I said.

"Yeah, after seeing each other every day except holidays for the past 3 months, I'd say it's about time we knew each other's names."

"Yeah, 'bout time."

"Well, I'd better get back to work. See ya 'round, Frankie."

You were the first person besides my parents to call me by a nickname. I couldn't help but smile. You don't know how excited I was to see you the next day.

It took me another 2 months to ask you to sit down with me when your shift ended.

We talked until closing that day. I found out that you were working your way through art school on a full scholarship and you asked all about my writing, assuring me that I'd be published someday if I applied myself enough. I'd never felt comfortable showing anyone what I was writing about, not even with my parents, but for some reason, I found myself describing even my most complicated plot lines to you.

We just clicked.

It only took you 4 hours to ask me out.

And here I am now, five years later, almost to the day, sitting in that same café, at that same goddamn table, getting myself depressed by remembering you. I was waiting for a guy I'd met at the grocery store, believe it or not. Our relationship ended in the grocery store, and this one started there. Well, if there would even be a relationship.

"Frank?"

"Hey!" I said, getting up and hugging Rob, the guy I'd met in the grocery store.

"Hey, it's nice to see you again!"

"You, too." I said. "How've you been?"

"I've been all right. Works' been kind of insane. We have a new deal coming up, so I've been kind of swamped."

"I know how that can be." Now I was just thinking about you again... Gah, stay out of my HEAD.

Rob and I continued talking for an hour or so, just relaxed conversation. It was nice to have someone to talk to again that really listened and cared.

"Done with your plate?"

I turned my head so fast I think I got whiplash. I think I scared the poor kid trying to clear the table, too. Even though I knew you hadn't worked there for years, those four words just amde me think of you, every time.

I nodded and pushed my plate aside. Suddenly, I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to be with Rob. I wanted you to be the one across from me.

"Frankie?"

"Don't call me that." I said. "Please."

"Are you all right?"

"I cant' do this." I got up from the table and put on my jacket. "I'm sorry."

And I left, just like that.

I can't even have a fucking coffee with a guy without thinking of you.