Messed Up Vita

Chapter Nineteen

We walk all the way to the coffee shop, where we're relieved as we walk into the warm, good smelling cafe. There's not that many people here, and the workers are young people who look about college age or a little more. I give the coat back to Mason, and he shrugs it back over his shoulders as we walk up to the front.

    "What do you want, Mason?" I ask. "Have you been here before, even?"

   He shakes his head. "No, I haven't. Whatever you think is good, I'll have."

   I smile then turn back to the counter lady, who was quite pretty with blond hair tied back into a pony tail. "We'll have vanilla mochas, please. Medium."

   Thankfully, she doesn't ask why we, obviously high-school students were in a cafe in the middle of the day. She taps in our order on the screen, and says, "That'll be seven dollars and ten cents."

   Mason pays the girl, and I glance up at him. "I'll pay you back for that later, okay?"

   "Too bad," he says, patting my head like a dog. "You're not."

   "Too bad," I say back. "I am."

   "No."

   "Yes."

   The girl slightly smiles at us, but doesn't meet our eyes. "Your coffee will be ready in three minutes, over there." She points to the left.

   "Thank you," I say. I turn around, grasp Mason's wrist, and pull him to the side. I lean against the wall, tired from our walk. I rub my cold hands together. Mason's hand didn't make mine any warmer, as I might've thought. They still ache with coldness.

   "What are we going to do after this?" he asks. I look up at him questioningly. "It's only nine thirty, you know. We have the whole day to do whatever we want."

   Was it just me, or was there something in his voice? I smile up at him and raise my eyebrows. "Well, you get to choose next. We could finish our mochas here, or we can go wherever and take them with us. If we take them with us, it'll keep our hands warmer."

   He smiles and looks at the tables. "I want to sit here. I don't feel like trudging in this cold anymore."

   "Me too," I agree. A person puts our steaming coffee onto the counter, and I take it in my hands. It feels heavenly, the warmth sliding through my hands. I hug it to my chest like a doll. 

   "You certainly love your coffee," Mason remarks.

   "I'm cold, alright?" I take a sip. It burns my tounge, and I yank it away from my mouth. "Hot!"

    He laughs teasingly at me, and we walk over to the tables. I slide in to my favorite next to the large window looking out into the street, with the cafe name facing us backwards on the glass. It's a two seat table, and I watch as Mason sits down on his. I love these seats, which are comfortable on my bottom. I love this cafe, which is small but sweet. And I love being here with Mason. 

   "So," Mason says, setting his cup down with a small tap. "What's your favorite thing to do?"

   I laugh. "What?"

   "This is our second day," he tells me. "and I don't even know what you like to do. Except running, singing, and . . . photography?"

   I nod. "That's it."

   "That's it?" he repeats, sounding surprised. "Nah, you have something else you like to do, don't you? Little things?"

   "I'm a very boring person."

   He shakes his head. "I don't think so."

   "Okay, then you tell me about yourself, then." I take a drink of my cooling down mocha. Flavor floods my mouth, warming my insides up.

   "I like football," he says, and I smile. "I hate school. I like video games. I have a sister. I-"

   "Wait," I stop him. "You have a sister?"

   "She's twelve," he tells me. "Shoulder-length brown hair. Seventh grader. Glasses. She comes to our school sometimes to the games."

   I have some reconition of the description. "Pink glasses?"

   He nods. "So you have seen her."

   "I guess," I say, shrugging. "Is she nice?"

   "I think so," Mason says, narrowing his eyes like he's not sure. "She broke my game once so I'm not so sure. . .  Do you have any siblings?"

   I shake my head. "Nopers."

   "Hm," he says, sipping his drink for a moment. We're silent, unsure what to talk about next. I kick the table's legs with my shoe, trying to think of a sensible topic to start. I notice the braclette he gave me, still tied up perfectly safe. I have never taken it off except for showering, and when I was mad at him, I had a thought to throw it away. Cut it up. I am happy now that I didn't. I don't quite remmeber what impulsed me to wear it at all, but I did. My wrist felt bare without something on it, so I guess the bracelet eased that feeling.

    "Who are you going with to the dance?" I finally ask, so short of topics I pick the dance. I immidiately regret my words. 

    "I was going to go with Katie," Mason says, sounding annoyed. "So I don't know."

   Before he could ask me anything that I would regret, I switch the topic. "Do you like the coffee?"

   "It's awesome," genuine favoribility in his voice. "You come here a lot?"

   "Sometimes," I say. "When I can't think, or when I'm trying to come up with some lines for a song."

   Mason's eyes light up a little. "What songs have you written so far? How many?"

   I shake my head dismissively. "Not a lot."

   "How many?" he pushes, smiling.

   I pause, unsure whether to tell him or not. "Augh. Five." I put my head in my arms on the table. "But they're horrible! I wrote half of them when I was thirteen."

   "Hmm, I don't think five can be split equally into halves. . . " he says tauntingly. I slap him on the arm, and he chuckles. "I'm kidding. I bet at least one of them is good, right?"

   I shrug. "I don't know."

   "How about you sing it for me, and I'll see?" he says, leaning forward.

   I pinch my lips together. "How about when we walk back." I look at the few people in here. I don't like singing in public, and the school talent show was a one-time thing. At least I knew some of the people. And a cafe doesn't seem like the apropraite place to be singing my awful song.

   "Okay," Mason gives in. "But you have to promise."

   "Promise," I say.

   "Good. Oh, and one other thing."

   I narrow my eyes at him, tilting my head to the side. "What?"

   He smiles troublesomely. "I get to kiss you, whenever I want today."

   I raise my eyebrows, a smile creeping onto my face. I will it to go away. "Oh, really? That's your catch?"

   "Why wouldn't it be?" he asks.

   I shrug. "Fine. But not in school."

   "Why not?"

   "Because I hate people like that watching us," I say. "It feels wrong to let people watch." Mason looks relieved. He must have people staring, too.

   "Deal." He reaches a hand across the table, and I shake it once. Before I can let go, he pulls me forward, forcing me to stand over the table to avoide spilling my drink. He stands over and pulls me forward, planting a kiss on my lips. It fills me with more warmth than the mocha, and comfortes me more than running or music. I could smell coffee on his breath as he pulls away slightly, staring at me with a smirk.

   "Starting now," he says.