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After School Café
I’ve never been quite the one to, well, follow my heart. Love never really seemed to strike a chord with me, and my fellow girlfriends would, occasionally, get annoyed at the overly logical opinions I had on the subject. When friends around me started with the concept of “relationships” and “boyfriend and girlfriends” I simply buried my head into one of the numerous math textbooks.
“Love” has always been a complicated and complex subject to my brain. Perhaps that’s why I’ve never understood it – I use my brain, not my heart. They say love is a feeling, I say it’s an idea. If you think of it carefully, my theory isn’t too far ridiculous.
Personally, I think love is too messy. Having an extra person to care about is bad enough, and now there’s all this drama? Count me out. If I were to be in a relationship, it’d be with a guy who I’d be compatible with, someone who is mature and easy going.
And that’s not the end of the qualities of my ideal guy. He’ll have to have the perfect sunny smile, charming eyes, intelligent, tall (preferably), and have a great personality. Oh! And don’t forget the manners as well as elegance and grace.
Though that’s not even half the list, I should stop. Any more would make me sound a bit too… a bit too picky. But, what’s wrong with being picky? I’m just choosing the very best for myself, so I won’t have to go through the trouble of picking and choosing again. Smart idea, no?
So, here I am, at my daily café, sipping a cup of hot tea and flipping through the latest issue of Teen Ink. Today was a bit more awful than the last. I lost my signature pen, spilled milk all over my favorite sweater, soiled my gym uniform, and broke my beloved designer glasses. At the moment, I have little hope of my day improving, only hoping that I would be able to read my magazine in peace.
Perhaps I jinxed it, or perhaps luck really wasn’t on my side.
“Do you mind if… if I sat there?” a masculine voice asked. I looked up to see a classmate of mine – a tall, shy, quiet boy. Somehow, I couldn’t seem to remember his name. So, instead of opening my mouth and replying, I simply nodded, scooted over, and gave a small grin. The coffee shop was unusually crowded today, and I guess it wouldn’t harm if he sat there.
As soon as he sat down next to me, a sweet vanilla scent surrounded me. It now hit me why all my classes always smelled like vanilla. He must be the culprit. Must I say whatever cologne he uses; he’s got good taste.
“Uhm… M—Maven right?” his voice was smooth – like silk, with some husky accents.
Without thinking, I automatically replied: “You should speak more often. You have a nice voice.” Right after it slipped my tongue, I gave myself a mental slap. Way to ruin a conversation, Maven. Way to ruin it. And a few moments of awkward silence filled the air.
A chuckle escaped his lips. “Thanks. That’s a first, you know,” he replied. He cleared his throat and turned a few degrees towards me. “By the way, I’m Adrian.” I debated whether to cleverly answer with I knew that or simply nod.
Instead, I stuck out my hand and said, “Nice to meet you.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid! How can I say that? He’d think that I pretend he’s nonexistent! I always knew I wasn’t an angel, but I never knew I was this cruel – and unconsciously, too! Oh no! What do I do? What do I do? Maven! Use that brain of yours!
“I’m in most of your classes this semester,” he replied with a shy smile. “Ah, well, no one can blame you. I’m too quiet.”
“No! Don’t think that! I’ll be surprised if no one noticed your presence! You’re good looking––” and that was when I turned completely beet red.
Adrian gave a soft chuckle – yet again, and pulled out his cell phone. He clicked a few buttons and eventually shoved the phone at me – gently, that is. “If you don’t mind… do you think that I could have your number and we could, er, you know, hang out sometime?”
Asking for my number? Offering to hang out? This sounded all too familiar. And then “hanging out” turns into a date and – wait! Why am I thinking so into this? He probably has some questions about homework, that’s all. Homework, yes, homework, Maven, not dating.
“Sure,” I replied, taking his phone and inserting my 11-digit contact number.
“Thanks! Ah! Look at the time. I have practice now, so I’ll… uhm… call you soon?” The dark-haired boy stood up to leave, pulling his one-shoulder bag on, waved goodbye, and exited the bustling café.
A small smile perked onto my face as I closed my Teen Ink magazine, sipped whatever was left of my tea, and headed out of the café. Perhaps, today wasn’t such a bad day, after all. And perhaps, today would be a turning point on my life. And perhaps, good things do come after the rain.