Saturday, March 5, 2011

The Meeting of Nicole and Jackson

         I looked up from my burger to see a guy staring at me.  Not like the cute guy stare, but the potential stalker kind.  Weird.  I continued to eat my burger, trying not to look at him.  Then I hear a squeak, and the sound of someone sitting down.  I look up to find him sitting across from me, smiling.  
         “Um. Hi?” I say, unsure of what is the right thing to say when some random guy sits down across from you at a restaurant.
         “Hey.”  He replies, still smiling.
         I tried to look down at my burger and continue to eat, but that was kind of hard to do with a random guy sitting across from you. 
         “What do you want?”  I said, sighing.
         “Your name.”  He replied, smirking.
         “Isn’t that the thing everyone tells you not to give out?”  I replied, smirking right back.  He was not winning this.
         “Well, mine is Jackson.  So, there for, I need to know yours to make this a proper introduction.”  He replied, stealing one of my fries.
         “Nicole.  And don’t steal my food.”  I replied, starting to smile.  He was kind of cute.  Tall, tanned, brunette, and had a great smile.  Jackson.  Hmm.
         “Well, Nicole, can I buy you a coffee?”  He asked, smiling.
         It was noon, and I had nothing better to do.  “Sure.”  I replied, and dropped enough for the burger on the table, and grabbed my bag.
         “Let’s go.”  He said, getting up.

         Crimson’s Coffee was this little coffee bar on Second Street.  Apparently, he worked here, because he seemed to know everyone here. 
         “You work here?” I asked.
         “Yep.” He said, grabbing a 10 out of his wallet to pay for our coffees.
         “During the summer.”  He replied, smirking.
         “And that means?”
         “My uncle lives here.”
         “You like?”  He said, gesturing at my coffee.
         “Definitely.” I replied.  “I love this place.  Best coffee in town.”
         “I agree.” 
         “Don’t you have to?”  I said, referring to his owner’s-son age.
         “Kind-of.”  He said, laughing.
         “Well. Thanks for the coffee.”  I said, grabbing my jacket. 
         “Welcome.”  He said, standing up.
         “Well, bye.” I said, heading towards the door.
         “Wait!”  He said, behind me.
         He ran up and grabbed a pen out of his pocket.  “Here this is my number.  Give me a call, k?”  He scribbled a number on my palm.  Doubtful.
         “Okay. Bye.”
         “Bye!”  He seemed somewhat enthusiastic, like too enthusiastic.

         Later that day, I was standing at the carnival, waiting for my mom to pick me up.  I’d been waiting for a while, checking my watch every few minutes.  Where was she?
         5 minutes. 10. 15.  I ooked down at my hand, and saw the number.  Nicole, this is not a good idea, I told myself.  Oh whatever.
         I grabbed my phone and dialed the number.
         “Hello?”  He said on the other end.
         “That would be me. Nicole?”  He asked.
         “Yeah.  Hey can you pick me up?”
         “Sure, where are you?”
         “Carnival, west end.”
         “Be there in a sec.”  He said.
         “No problem.”  He hung up, and I stood there, considering the pros and cons of what I’d just done. Pros:  Cute guy. A ride. Cons: Don’t know the cute guy. Could be a stalker.  I decided the pros outweighed the cons, and sat down on the curb.
         “Nicole!”  I looked up to see Jackson in a Mercedes, pulling shades off of his face.  Wow.
         “Hey!”  I said, getting up and walking over the car.
         “Come on, get in.”
         I remembered my pros and cons speech, and hopped in.  Live dangerously, right?

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