Page 8 of Take You

“I guess so, but I’ll be honest, I haven’t been to too many places like that. I try to avoid them if I can. Middle of the road isn’t really my jam.”

For some reason, those words made me sit up and take notice. “Is that so? Well, Mr. ‘I’m not middle of the road,’ what exactly is your jam?”

“Well, I guess you could say I have a taste for the finer things in life, but other than that, pretty much anything goes.”

“I don’t think you can say you prefer the best, and also that anything goes. They’re mutually exclusive.”

“Not really. Within the confines of the best, I’m not too particular after that.” I watched him as he spoke. He was a perplexing combination of open and easy in some senses, but pretty hard to read in others. I was having trouble figuring him out.

“Best of what? What are we talking? People, food, booze, cars...?” This was all skirting too close to familiar Richie Rich territory for my liking.

“All of the above, and pretty much anything else you care to mention. “Best college”—I motioned toward the window at the front of the café—“best friends, best grades, best company.” He nodded my way. “Best everything.”

“Well, you’ve been given a bum steer somewhere, there. I’m definitely not the best company.”

“I don’t think that’s for you to say. I’m the one hanging out with you.” He winked. It was a small, subtle gesture, but definitely there, and for some reason, it made my stomach flip. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind.

“True, but it started with me almost snapping your shin in two, and now here we are. I don’t think I’m doing anything to warrant being described as the best, unless the bar is set very much lower than I thought.”

“You’re too hard on yourself. Or is it me who’s terrible company? I mean, I did effectively hold you hostage to ‘persuade’ you to have a coffee with me, so I guess I couldn’t blame you for not wanting to hang out.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to hang with you.”

“You didn’t have to.” He looked a little hurt.

“No really, it’s not that. I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just... out of sorts, I guess. Maybe I’m coming down with something. You must think I’m such a bitch.”

“No, not at all. It’s not on you to entertain some random guy who literally picked you up in the hall. I could be anyone, for all you know.”

“True. But, so could I, for all you know.”

“Touché. Also true. But, I know you’re not just anybody. You’re definitely somebody.” I was sure I was imagining it, but for some reason, that statement seemed loaded. Obviously, I was just being paranoid. “But maybe we should meet up another time. Intentionally, I mean, just to be sure?”

“Meet up...?

“I mean, like maybe I can buy you another coffee... Or food... And drinks.”

“So you mean like a date?”

“I guess you could call it that. Or not. Depending on how you feel about the idea.” How did I feel? I was mostly just shocked that he was asking. What I knew of him, I liked. He seemed genuine. He had a nice vibe about him, which was why I was all the more surprised that he was asking. I’d thought I hadn’t made a very good impression.

He was watching me carefully, no doubt trying to read me. “Or how about this? You give me your phone, I’ll put my number in, and you can call me, when, or if you want to. Then we can take it from there. In the meantime, I can just lurk outside that lecture theater every Tuesday at eleven, and hope you’ll bust my legs again.” I guessed he’d sensed my hesitance, and was trying his best to put me at ease.

“Stop! It was an accident. One I have no intention of repeating.”

“I definitely hope not.” He reached down and rubbed at his shin in an exaggerated fashion, chuckling as he did. His laughter was easy, and infectious, and it totally won me over.

“Okay, here.” I stretched across the table to hand him my phone, then watched in horror as I somehow managed to clip the edge of my coffee cup with it. He’d already reached out for the handset, and while it moved from my hand to his, he watched in similar horror as the mug launched into the air, spun several times, and landed back on the table with a loud clink. The world seemed to move in slow motion for the second time that morning as most of the contents of the cup hurtled through space, and into my lap.

“Shit!” I jumped up like I’d been shot, hoping to repel some of the lukewarm liquid. Of course, it was in vain, and my crotch was covered. Not only that, but half the coffee shop was now looking at me, as I’d exclaimed pretty loudly, and knocked over my chair as I stood. It had fallen to the floor with a conversation-stopping clatter. Kill. Me. Now.

“Umm... I’ll be... ah. Sorry.” I was sure he could fill in the blanks as I dashed toward the bathroom.

When I returned to the table, my chair was back upright, and the mess on the floor had been cleaned away. The only sign of anything amiss was a pile of soggy napkins on the far corner of the table..

As if the day couldn’t get any worse and more awkward, Kane’s clear brown eyes zeroed in on my crotch as I approached.

“Yeah. It’s not a good look. I’m going to have to go home and change.” I could see he was biting back a smile.

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