You & I

I was running approximately seven minutes late to meet Chris. To me, that's acceptable. I mean, who actually turns up early, or dead on time to meet someone? If that does happen then it's clearly a fortunate accident. The only time people strive to be early is for job interviews or equally important meetings.

Besides, people are always late to meet me. I'm not exaggerating here. I don't know if it's something about my outward persona that gives people the illusion that I will always be the late one, or maybe it's just that basic instinct to avoid situations which could bring about nervousness, mild angst and an inkling of fear, aka; waiting alone in a public place for someone to show up. It's easy to spot these said people. They are usually the ones pretending to read or reply to a message on their cellphone.

I turned in to the street where Cafe CC resided. It was only twenty minute's from my apartment and the walk in the spring sunshine had a calming influence.

When I was almost at the cafe I paused to smooth down the cotton of my baby blue t-shirt dress. I had changed my outfit three times before deciding on the simple dress, combined with a cardigan, black leggings and ankle boots. I like to think it was simple yet cute -or as cute as I could get, which didn't exactly come naturally to me. Not like my awkward charm. I wear that label like a badge of honor, signifying a trait which likes to rear it's ugly, awkward head whenever it spots an unfortunate opportunity.

The bell rang when I pushed open the door to the cafe. I really wish these places would lose that damn bell. I know they're there for a reason, but it alerts everyone in the place of a new arrival and all eyes turned in my direction. On the plus side it helped me spot Chris, who was sitting in a far corner away from the window.

Is it an inbuilt celebrity trait to find the most secluded spot in any public place? Even an out-of-the-way independent coffee house like this one.

I walked over to join Chris. He did this thing where he moved to stand and greet me, then wasn't quite sure what to do, so he quickly sat down again and watched me take the seat opposite him. I didn't comment on it, but at least it helped dissolve some of my own nerves. An arranged meet was a mile above coincidental meetings.

"You look good," Chris said with a smile.

"Thanks, so do you," I said. He really did. He had on this navy blue jumper which fit him perfectly. His dark hair made his eyes seem brighter. They were this mesmerizing shade of blue, verging on cobalt, and he had that stubble again which shadowed his jaw. It looked sexy as hell and drew attention to his lips.

I had to begin a repetitive mantra in my head just friends, just friends. This was to beat down a primal urge to leap over the table and lick his face. I would never have actually done that. Obviously...But the thought had me biting down on my bottom lip and when I realized I hoped I hadn't completely fecked up my lipstick. At least I'd gone with a neutral shade and not my usual cherry pop red.

"This is a really cool place," Chris mused.

"Yeah, I like it."
I glanced around at the real newspaper pages fixed on the wall we sat beside. They told stories from major historical events. Various clocks hung on another wall. There was an antique bookcase full of classics, and jazz pop hummed softly in the background. If you're reading this then it probably sounds like a jumble, but it all worked in this place.

"I don't get to come here much. When I'm sent for coffee, Cooper always insists on Starbucks." I frowned at Cooper's lack of leeway, then focused on Chris. "Were you waiting long?"

"I got here a few minutes before you did."

A bubbly little blonde woman came over and introduced herself as Bethany. She took our orders and went back behind the counter.

"Mocha," Chris commented on my coffee preference. "I had you down as a triple-shot."

I shook my head. "I always judge a place by its mocha, and this place does great mocha."

"Right," he drew out the word with an easy smile and relaxed in the chair. "So, where did you grow up? Your accents hard to place."

"Whoa, we're going for the personal stuff already? No, 'how are you Grace?'"

"You're right, sorry. Hi Grace, how are you? Good? That's great, yeah I'm good too, thanks for asking."

"You're such a dork," I laughed.

"So...?"

"I'm a mongrel." -was the simple answer. "I was born in Roseburg, Oregon and I lived there until I was 7, which is probably the longest time I've spent in one place. My family traveled a lot, even had a stint in Australia for a year."

Chris let out a whistle. "Whoa."

"My parents grow pretty restless in one place."

"Is that a family trait?"

I shrugged, "I can stay or go. One of the few positives is that I'm adaptable, or I like to think I am."

"And the negatives?"

"Geez, you ask a lot of questions."

"Humor me." He folded his arms on the table, the navy cotton pulling taught across the muscles it tried to mask. I tore my gaze away and watched Bethany put our drinks down on the table. We thanked her and Chris turned his attention to me once again.

"I guess, I didn't make friends easily. I still don't," I confessed. "I mean, I did when I was a kid, but then I just stopped making an effort. I have acquaintances, I have loads of those, but not really anyone I'd think to call if I just needed someone to talk to." My face burnt and I focused on stirring my coffee. I did not do this. I did not tell people personal things, especially when I barely knew them.
"It's hard to connect with people on a deeper level when there's this voice in the back of my head reminding me that I'll be leaving sooner or later."

What I managed to leave out of this part was how I also wished to be the person someone came to rely upon. That was a two-way streak. I couldn't expect people to need me if I didn't at least try to connect with someone. One thing I was quite certain of, was that Chris wasn't the person I was looking for. He couldn't be. He was definitely easy on the eye and seemed like a genuinely caring person, but he wouldn't be around long enough to make a difference.
This whole thing would merely result in a nice story to tell people in the future.

"I get that, but for me the problem is figuring out who's genuine."

"Is that why you invite random people you barely know out for coffee, to vet them?"

"Exactly," he grinned. "I have two more people to vet after this."

"I don't doubt," I said, masking a grin. "So what about you, where did you grow up?" I asked even though I knew already. It was common knowledge if you had ever skimmed a magazine article on the man.

"That would be Boston, the place I still call home. Even when things get a bit crazy, that place stays the same."

"It's good that you have somewhere to escape to when the hoards of screaming fans are too much to handle."

Chris appeared to study me for a moment, and I avoided his eyes by drinking my coffee.
"You don't seem like a hairstylist."

I raised a brow. "What do you mean by that exactly?"

"Well, they're usually-"

"Are you about to give me the typical hairdresser stereotype? Because I could describe the actor stereotype if you'd like."

"And what would that be?"

"Cocky, good looking, egotistical," I listed them off with my fingers. "Doesn't need a little black book because he never calls the same girl twice. Loves being the center of attention."

"You already know at least one of those is a lie."

"The good looking tag." His hand flew to his chest in mock hurt. "Oh, you meant the center of attention thing."

"You know how to hurt a guy Grace."

"I thought you could only hurt a guy by giving him a swift kick to the balls."

Chris winced, "Yeah, that one tops the bill."

We drank our coffees in silence for a while. It wasn't one of those lingering silences where both parties desperately search for something to say to fill a void. It was one of those comfortable silences when nothing even needs to be said.

This should have been another warning sign, complete with a glowing red light. My number one rule was to not allow myself to get comfortable, and that's exactly what was happening.