A Little Something Different (8 page)

“Nah, girls dig that crap.”

“Seriously? You think so?”

“Yeah, they love all that sensitive, sentimental stuff.”

“I don’t think there’s a single woman on Earth who would appreciate you lumping them together that way. Except maybe Hillary. That girl is a ridiculous caricature of everything that’s wrong with the world.”

“I’m impressed, Gabe.”

“With what?”

“I had no idea you were a feminist, or that you used words like ‘caricature.’”

He punches my arm.

“Hey, hands off the driver,” I joke, laughing.

His face goes ashen.

“Gabe. It’s a joke. No big deal.”

“I know, I know.” He chews his thumbnail and looks out the window, watching the buildings pass while I curse myself for making a driving joke. “Just … be careful.”

DECEMBER

Charlotte
(a barista)

The place is packed, as it usually is at this point in the afternoon, but the line is suspiciously short so I let one of the other people take their break before me, hoping that when it’s my turn to take a break it’ll be in the middle of chaos and I’ll get to walk away casually, like Mel Gibson as a bomb goes off behind him.

Maybe I should pick someone cooler than Mel Gibson.

I’ll work on that.

It’s another terrible shift without Keith or Tabitha. Tabitha would be particularly effusive and happy today since Lea is here, which means any second Gabe is going to wander in. And like clockwork, there he is. He glances over at her and then steps into the line.

I’m feeling a little more neutral about him recently. I’m not sure way. Perhaps I’ve been infused with the Christmas spirit or I’ve finally just lost my mind. I’m on drink duty, so I probably won’t have a chance to talk to him. He’s a regular coffee kind of guy. I’m almost a little disappointed because I’d like to test him, see if he’s more normal these days.

Shockingly, he orders a mint hot chocolate. I’m so surprised that I’m actually going to get to make his drink that I almost drop the cup when I see the “Gabe” scrawled on the side. He walks down to the end of the counter and leans casually out of the way.

“Hey,” I say to him.

He nods at me, smiling a little, tight-lipped.

“Mint hot chocolate?” I say.

He stares at my lips. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone stare at my lips quite so intently. Not even the kid who stalked me sophomore year of high school.

“It’s good stuff here; I’ll add a little extra pump of mint for you and make it even better,” I tell him conspiratorially. He continues to stare at my lips but he draws his eyebrows down even farther in confusion. He probably can’t hear me over the steam wand at the moment.

“How’s the end of the semester going?” I try a new tact with him.

He shrugs.

“Yeah, I feel that.” This isn’t going nearly as well as I had expected and I can feel burgeoning hope for him and Lea ebb and fade. Damn Tabitha, she brainwashed me.

“Whip?” I ask.

He draws his eyebrows in even more, squinting, and then it’s like he gives up.

“I’m sorry?” he says finally, looking me in the eye.

“Do you want whipped cream?” I ask, holding up the bottle.

“Oh, yeah.” He pauses, licking his lips. “I have trouble hearing in here sometimes.”

“That’s cool. It’s loud.”

He smiles and nods as he accepts his drink. “Thanks,” he says.

The line is even quieter now and I have no drinks stacked waiting for me, so I watch Gabe pick his way across the room. There aren’t too many empty tables. There’s a two-seater right next to Lea and I think maybe he’s going to take that one. He stops and stares at it even, and I feel like his thoughts are written all over his face, calculating some kind of impossible math problem that involves how to get himself into that seat. He changes course and ends up farther away from her, but as he sits she looks up.

They wave at each other.

She glances at the seat he didn’t take and I wonder what the deal is with them. Not in the silly way that we gossip about, but I wonder about the way that they look at each other but so rarely acknowledge it. It’s kind of sad. I promise myself I’ll go back to being annoyed by them tomorrow, but for now I let myself sink into the melancholy.

But then there are two salted caramel lattes to make, and a venti white chocolate mocha, and a break that’s coming up any second and the bell jingling on the door. Their moment is over and so is mine.

Frank
(Chinese food delivery guy)

Back to the freshman dorm with another delivery. Seriously, these two need to get their acts together and order at the same time. I’m getting tired of driving out here twice in the same day. It’s the third time in two months.

“Hey,” I say as the girl comes to collect her order.

“Hey,” she responds, handing me her money.

“So, you and your boyfriend have a fight?”

“Who?” she asks, side-eyeing me.

“You know, the kid who lives upstairs.”

“Gabe? He’s not my boyfriend.” She says it fast and I feel like I’ve been around long enough to know that her quick denial means she probably likes him.

“He ordered like an hour ago, same stuff as last time. You should start ordering together.”

“But we’re not together,” she insists.

“That’s not really what I’m saying.”

“I’m confused.”

“I’m not exactly Dear Abby, but you guys have … something weird going on. I can tell. I have a third eye.”

She gives me a vaguely disgusted look.

“You know, like I can see shit. And there’s something about you guys. I don’t know. Call me crazy, but I think if you asked him to order food with you, he’d be into it.”

“I…” She pauses and shakes her head. “Thanks.”

She walks away then and I feel like a royal dumbass. But I had to say something. My grandma would be so mad at me if I didn’t. She’s the one who taught me about the third eye.

Hillary
(creative writing classmate)

It’s the last day of creative writing for the semester. I can’t believe it’s over and Gabe still hasn’t asked me out. I mean, what is that about? I thought for sure he was super into me.

Inga calls the class to attention and hands back a big stack of papers that she’d apparently been hoarding. And then she makes the last two people in the class read for the semester. When they’re done she claps her hands together.

“All right guys, this is it. I want to remind you that your final papers are due one week from today. And I want hard copies of them, not just emailed at some random moment when you blur the deadline. I’ll be in my office from ten to twelve next Tuesday, or you can drop it in my mailbox in the English department anytime between now and then.”

Victor groans. I have to admit that I have a lot of respect for Victor. He always speaks his mind.

“A problem, Victor?”

“Such a waste of trees,” he says.

Inga glares at him. “For final papers I like to have hard copies.”

“I don’t mean—” He stops, rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

Inga stares at him for another second and I hope he keeps going. I love the drama.

“Anyway, these are long papers. In the past when I accepted emailed documents I often found myself printing them out anyway. I might seem like a dinosaur to you, but there’s something about seeing your work on the page as opposed to the screen. I think I mark better on paper. People get higher grades.”

Victor plasters a huge fake smile on his face.

“Anything else?” Inga asks.

Silence.

I notice Gabe is antsy, his feet kicking the back of Victor’s chair. I can almost see the steam rising from Victor’s ears. Inga definitely doesn’t notice.

“Well, then class dismissed. I know it’s a little early, so I’ll take questions here and now if you have any; if not I’d suggest taking this found time to work on your final.”

Victor wheels around in his seat as soon as Inga’s done and first stares at Lea and then stares at Gabe.

“Listen, if you two like each other so damn much, you should probably just get it on already and stop annoying all the people around you.”

I gasp. I can’t help it. I almost laugh, because seriously, how could Victor think that Gabe and Lea have any chemistry. They look at each other for a second and then Gabe pretty much runs out of the classroom. Lea takes her time packing up, and Victor continues to mutter under his breath.

I guess Gabe isn’t going to ask me out.

Victor
(creative writing classmate)

Midnight breakfast is definitely one of my favorite nights of the year. I don’t know why it all tastes so much better at midnight than it does in the morning, but seriously, it’s just genius. I’m going to spend the whole damn night eating toast and omelets and hash browns.

I’m so excited I don’t even notice one of my least-favorite people ahead of me in line. But there’s the Giraffe, ordering more than her fair share of triangle hash browns.

And as she’s walking toward the drink station, Big Foot himself comes through, colliding with her.

Of course.

Her full food tray and his mostly empty one fall to the ground with a crash, scattering glass and food everywhere.

I weep for all those hash browns.

I step off to the side.

Their mess is blocking my way and, really, I don’t want to deal with them right now. Hopefully a custodian will come soon and they’ll be on their way. Because I definitely don’t feel bad about what I said to them earlier, but it’s not like I want to challenge Big Foot to a fight over his woman’s honor or something. He’s totally that kind of guy.

I back away, concealed in a gap between the wall and the soda dispenser, and I listen to the two of them chirp apologies at each other.

“I’m so sorry,” she says.

“No, no, it was me,” he says.

Why am I stuck here listening to this? It’s gotta be karmic retribution, but I don’t even know for what. I’m a good guy! I get a little impatient sometimes, but who doesn’t?

“You’re kneeling in syrup,” she says, her voice all weird and breathy like it’s some kind of beautiful phrase that should be cross-stitched on a pillow or something.

Apparently he doesn’t respond because I hear her again. “Your knee.”

“Oh, nobigdeal,” he says quietly.

Can these two just stop? I try to find an escape route, but there’s just no way through. I could try to cut around them, but they’re blocking the entire archway. And I guess everyone else is avoiding this area due to the mess, so there’s no one to even use as a diversion.

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t kneeling in any glass,” she says, still using her cross-stitch voice.

“I’m not.” Maybe I like him more than I thought I did. He keeps things succinct, to the point. I peek around the corner and he’s making these sad eyes at her and I take back my previous thought. And I wonder if I’m ever going to get out of here. I peek again.

“I think there are some little shards over here,” he says.

“Yeah, but I think you got everything in this spot.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine. You?”

“Yeah, except for my jeans…” he says with this dumb-shit little smile.

The custodian finally comes over here and I think these two might get out of the way. But instead they stand there and decide to have a little chat. Perfect.

First they have to apologize profusely to the janitor, who waves them off and says they did a good job. People need to stop being so nice to them.

Then in the biggest moment of idiocy I have ever encountered, the Giraffe turns to Big Foot and says, all fluttering eyelashes and adoring gazes, “I’m Lea. I feel like we should have properly introduced ourselves like a hundred years ago.”

I want to slam my head into the wall. Why won’t they go away?

“Gabe.”

I shake my head and roll my eyes and just barely keep from concussing myself into oblivion.

“I kept meaning to talk to you in class, but it seemed weird, like we already knew each other, or already should have known each other. And the longer I waited the weirder it felt and then we lived in the same building and you didn’t really seem like you wanted to talk, and I didn’t want to bother you. I’m going to stop talking now.”

I stare at the ceiling, praying for it to fall on me.

“I, um … didn’t want to bother you either.”

“Well, now that we’ve both said it that way, maybe we should start bothering each other.”

I pick up my fork off my tray and pretend to stab myself in the eye with it.

“I’m gonna go.”

THANK GOD.

“Sure, sure,” she says.

“Are you leaving? We could, um, walk together.”

JUST GO.

“Ah, no. Maribel, my roommate, she’s over there and we’re going to stay here and study for a little longer. I was getting us extra hash browns to share.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you around though?”

“Yeah, sure.”

I am almost going to get out of here. I feel like I’m about to be released from prison. I might actually kiss the ground after this.

“Gabe?”

No.

“Yeah?”

“I really liked your essay. About being shy? I mean, I liked all the work of yours I’ve read, but that one was really good.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“I looked up that tree on the Internet. It’s fascinating.”

He makes a weird, choked laughing sound. Maybe I should put him out of his misery, too.

“Anyway, if I don’t see you, have a good break,” she says.

“Yeah, you too.”

Finally. I make my way back to my friends, who don’t even seem to notice I’ve been gone that long. And of course my omelet is cold.

Maribel
(Lea’s roommate)

“Hey, where have you been?” I ask as Lea comes back to our table. “I thought you abandoned me and I was going to have to slink out of here with all of our crap by myself. You have a lot of crap.” I survey the table. She’s got stacks of notebooks and index cards and highlighters. I think she has a serious school-supply addiction.

She shakes her head, a smile threatening to burst off her face. “The most amazing thing just happened.”