This Boy's Journey

Chapter Six: Truer Words

After a brief discussion, Paul and I decided to eat at the Spitfire Grill. He vouched for it, stressing that this was the best grill restaurant in all of Santa Monica. I was so hungry that as long as it was edible, I was fine with it. Outside of it was a white picket fence surrounding white square tables that we pass on our way inside the creme-colored building with the name of the restaurant of the front of the black awning. It's understated and a nice change of pace. Not everything in California has to have an air of pretentiousness.

Inside is mostly wooden, wood tables and a wood bar, and we take a seat towards the back of the room. A waiter comes by, a young girl named Stephanie with a bubbly personality. We order quesadillas and two glasses of water, then get to talking between ordering deciding our entrees.

"Have you ever been to California?" asks Paul, glancing over his menu.

"Yeah," I say, "my sister lives here, so I've been here a few times."

"Oh, killer," he says with a smile. "What does she do?"

"She has a clothing store on Main Street. Magic Mirror."

"I think I've heard of that, I'll have to check it out sometime."

We spend another minute scanning through the menu and decide on our orders. I'm getting he crispy chicken sandwich and he's ordering a cheese dog. Our waitress acts as if both of our orders are the two best choices, but something tells me that no matter what we said, she was going to give the exact same response.

"Where did you go to school?" Paul asks once she leaves.

"UT," I say enthusiastically. "It's got a really good Liberal Arts program. I had a professor that was very hands-on...in the not creepy way. She really inspired me to push my limits. What about you?"

"I went to Glendale Community College," he says, laughing. "Some people look down on you for that, but I'm actually proud of it. All this stuff is subjective anyway. Just because you go to Harvard doesn't make you the best. The most talented people don't have to learn to be special. It comes naturally, much like breathing."

"I get that," I say, nodding. "it's like with singing. You can train all your life, but that doesn't mean you can hit an Ariana note."

"Truer words."

We continue small talking and it's not the annoying kind. While we keep it casual, it also delves deeper than it usually does with the usual person. Paul is self-aware of his nerdiness and wears it like a badge of honor, rather than carrying a "holier than thou" attitude. When our food comes and we eat quietly until we're halfway done and start to slow down.

"Alright," says Paul, wiping his mouth. "I gotta know, and just so you're aware, if you answer wrong I will judge you from here to eternity. What's your favorite TV show of all time?"

"Buffy, the Vampire Slayer," I reply.

"Wow, that was fast."

"It was ahead of its time and set the tone for every supernatural show that followed. What's yours?"

"Fair enough. I'm gonna go with Star Trek."

"I'm not surprised."

"Are you saying that I'm an obvious Trekkie."

"Yes...that's exactly what I'm saying."

Stephanie comes by again to check on us, unable to restrain herself from hopping in place.

"How are we doing?" she asks, smiling so hard her eyes are practically closed. "Are we doing good?"

"Yes, Stephanie," I say pleasantly.

"Everything's delicious," Paul says.

"Awesome sauce!" She claps three times. "I have to say, you two make a cute couple."

Paul and I look at one another as if we were both caught doing something illegal.

"Oh, we're not—" I say.

"We're co-workers," Paul continues.

"Oh, gosh...I'm so sorry. I'm normally really good at—sorry."

"It's no big deal," Paul says, brushing it off. "I could do a lot worse."

Stephanie walks away, holding her cheeks and turning a bright red.

"Well...that was something," I say, then finish the rest of my chicken sandwich.

"Yeah...to be honest with you, I kind of like you," he says in all seriousness.

I swallow my bite and look at him blankly, "Oh." That's all I can seem to say.

"I'm not usually this blunt and I don't believe in office romance. It's unprofessional and there are a billion ways for it to go wrong, but I feel a real connection with you. I felt it over our emails actually. I don't expect anything from this. I can keep it mature, I'd just like to get to know you better."

"This is unexpected," I say. People always assume that I'm used to being asked out, but I'm always caught by surprise. I don't see myself the way other people do, and I never really know how to respond.

"You don't have to say anything. I'm an open and honest person, sometimes to a fault. I just feel like you're really special. We can leave it at that for now."

"Yeah, definitely," I say. I hate how awkward I can be, but it's the best I can offer until I piece together my feelings.