Page 15 of Expressionate
I press a button and give him the total. He hands over his card. When his fingers brush against mine, I force back a shiver. Maybe I'm getting sick. Yeah, that must be it. Probably a cold. Autumn is almost here. Must be the seasonschanging.
He waits patiently for me to finish his transaction. I almost wish he had asked for something complicated because it's all too soon that I'm finished pouring his cup of plain, black coffee and meeting him at the side counter where the patrons wait. He smiles as he takes the cup and just holdsit.
"So," he begins, "you've seen what I do, and now I've seen what you do." He pauses to glancearound.
"This isn't my career," I stateflatly.
"No, I don't expect someone as smart as you to work as a barista for the rest of your life," he replies. "I half expect you'll do something wild like..." he pauses once more, eyeing me with meaning, "pole dancinginstructor?"
Iblink.
"Teacher?"
Ifrown.
"Pornographerthen?"
"Could you say that a bit louder?" I snap. "I don't think the people outside could hearyou."
I huff out a deeply frustrated breath, and realize how out of character that is for me before I finally answer him in the hopes that he will stop talking. "I'm getting my degree in online editing and web design," I finallysay.
"Online editing?" he asks, raising his brows as he takes a sip of hiscoffee.
"Yes," Ideadpan.
"Hmmm."
I turn away and move back to the counter, pulling out some of the snack packages that need to be replaced in front of the pastry display. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Tax moves to the self-serve station and slips a packet of sugar and a little bit of milk into his coffee. The girls at the table watch him as well. I turn back to the box of prepackaged gingerbread and chocolate coveredalmonds.
"I didn't picture web design either," Tax says as he sidles up next tome.
"Is there a point to you being here?" I ask. I refuse to look at him, but I keep his position in myperiphery.
"Are you doing anything tonight?" heasks.
I keep stocking. "Yes."
"Isee."
I keep my eyes glued forward. He doesn't say anything more, but stands to the side, casually sipping on his no longer black coffee as he watches me work. He’s there for so long I finish restocking the racks in front of the pastry display, and my coworker comes back from his smoke break. I move to circle the counter once more, and Tax glances around before spying a chair across from the counter and makes his way toward it. My coworker – a dark-skinned man with short cornrows under his BookWorm baseball cap – glances between us, but thankfully doesn't ask. I wouldn't know how to explain the strange tattooed man showing up to watch and wait onme.
Another rush of local college students comes through and I notice several girls approach Tax only to leave not long after greeting him. It doesn't matter to me. I don't know him. I focus on my work until the end of my shift and when it's time for me to clock out, I don't stop myself from glancing toward Tax’s chair – or so I've come to refer to it in my head. He's not there and there's a tinge of something inside of me. I don't know what it is, but it can't be disappointment. I won’t let it bedisappointment.
I remove my apron and hang it up on the back wall before heading to the booksellers’ counter to retrieve my purse and car keys. Usually, I leave them in the back, but today I didn’t have time. I wave to Beth as I head toward the front door, and when I hit the sidewalk outside I pause to stretch my neck. I'm standing on the corner, waiting for a slow, silver Camry to pass by when a thick arm, corded with muscle slips over my shoulders. "Where are we heading to?" Taxasks.
I jump, and my eyes flash up at him. He's so close that all I see is the underside of his stubbled chin. I sigh, reaching around to pluck the wide hand on my shoulder with two of my fingers and angle myself out from under his arm. "I'm going home," I state, starting across the street to the parkinglot.
"I thought you said you had something to do tonight?" He’s right there – back in my space – following me as I head toward mycar.
"I do," I say, frustration in my voice. I take a moment to close my eyes before I open them and take a step away from him. "Can you nothover?"
He tilts his head to the side, his eyes tracking to my arm where the tattooed fleet of blackbirds makes its way halfway down meeting the sporadic vines of black tree branches that are across my back. "Alright," he says. "I'll leave you alone. I just wanted to know if you would do me a favor if I offered to do you afavor."
I narrow my gaze at him as I slow down and stop behind a white minivan. "You don't have anything that Ineed."
"Then maybe you'll take an IOU and do it anyway?" He looks at me unapologetically, his cerulean eyes watching me with startlingclarity.
"What do you want?" Iask.
