I take a deep breath - the paper bag in front of my mouth scrunches up.
It looks funny. Okay, good. I feel a calmer now.
"Good, good." I hear him say. He probably saw me smiling. "Now breathe out."
I do as I was told - now the paper bag looks like it's about to explode.
Just like me.
Dave is such a good friend. Honestly, I'd be lost without him.
Which, yes, sounds pretty dramatic, given that I've only known him for a period of seven days or so but it's true.
Hm. You know what else? He's a pretty good therapist, too. He should take up some sort of internship at the Surreysets' Institution of Psychology instead of working hours here at the Not Just Your Cup of Tea café.
Then again, this place would pretty much crumble without him.
I feel something warm on my shoulder.
Ooh, a cup of - wait, what is it? Ahh, hot chocolate with caramel chunks & chocolate syrup & cocoa powder sprinkled over whipped cream, perched right on my shoulder.
The sure cure for... Well, whatever it is that I'm feeling.
Freaked, for one.
Troubled, another.
Definitely anxious.
& so, so many more confusing (confused! Add that to the list, please) feelings bubbling up inside.
"Thanks, SuperDave." I say gratefully as I breathed in the steam from the drink.
"SuperDave, huh?" he laughs as he walks back into the kitchen.
"Mmhmm." I blow the steam away, lapse in the delicious aroma one last time & take tiny sips, savouring each drop.
Oh God. If sins could ever take a form, this would be it.
"That good, eh?" I hear an amused voice.
I look up, feeling petrified, thinking that it's him.
It isn't.
Wait. Was that disappointment I felt?
No. No. Okay, focus.
Instead, I see a couple. One good-looking blonde boy with his arm around an equally good-looking blonde girl.
They sorta look like the ideal teenage couple - both of them being extremely attractive & what not.
The guy looks like the stereotypical jock, the Surreysets' Academy football team jacket on & the bulky armour of muscles giving us a hint whereas the girl is, simply put, gorgeous.
The type of gorgeous that would get said girl to be hated by others. That kind of gorgeous.
Feeling totally inadequate, I responded - 3 seconds later than any normal person would - with a wobbly smile.
"I'll just have the, um..." the guy peers at our menu behind me - or what Dave fondly calls it, Chalkie, the Chalkboard (yes, he's a very creative person). "- Mocha latte."
Any normal girl would say that he resembles some what of a Greek god but the blonde guy seems a little... Snide, if you ask me.
Something about him is just a little off.
"Well, I'll definitely have what ou're having." the blonde girl teases & laughs.
I laugh along with her - her laugh's infectious - & the guy follows suit.
Seems like she's one of those rare types - insanely (& naturally) pretty, inside & out.
After giving the orders to Dave, I walk back to the counter.
Suddenly, a monophonic version of Stairway to Heaven blast from Snide Guy's jeans pocket.
He glances at his phone's screen. "Sorry," Snide Guy says in a supposedly 'sheepish' way. He resembles like a horse, in my opinion. "I've gotta take this. Sorry, babe."
With a quick smooch on the blonde girl's cheek, he takes off to the door.
"Hey, babe! What's up?" I hear him say before he exists.
The blonde girl lets out a sigh & gives me something of a sad smile.
"What do you think of him?" she asks me abruptly, breaking the silence.
I look up from my Sudoku puzzle (hey, there is nothing wrong with Sudoku. In my defense, it's a slow day), trying to wipe the surprised look off of my face.
"I know, I know." she says laughingly. "Pretty random, huh? But just tell me. What do you think of him?"
"Honestly?" I ask, hesitating a little. Keep in mind that she is a total stranger - no, more importantly, a customer, not some chummy pal I knew from school.
She nods with total earnest.
"We-ll..." I stall, wishing that Dave would just hurry up with the drinks already.
Finally, I voice out my opinion of her date (you know, the one where I called him Mr. Snide Guy. Not about him resembling a horse).
The blonde girl sighs again.
"& you're probably wondering what I'm doing with him, right?"
Not knowing any other suitable response, I nod.
"So am I. I mean, okay, well, duh, that sounded dumb."
I open my mouth to assure her that that didn't 'sound dumb' but she cut me off (unintentionally).
"It's just... Boys from my school, they date me only for three reasons. Ready? Okay. It's either so he - the guy, I mean - could get a chance to : One. Hook up witht his incredibly hot girl - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so full of myself. It's just that I've heard it myself, when I was walking behind this-" she shakes her head & shrugs, "Yeah, never mind. I just heard. Or two. To hook up with this incredibly rich girl & - this is the popular choice - three. To hook up with this incredibly hot, rich girl."
(Just wondering, did you notice that I hadn't mentioned any of my responses so far? Well, that's because I didn't get a chance to respond. Not that I'm complaining.)
"... I mean, God, & peopl ethink that it's just us teenage girls that's superficial! What about the boys?" she lets out a small frustrated scream.
Finally, she takes in a deep breath to re-fill her lungs, probably due to low air capacity.
Just as sudden, she lets out a small laugh. "You probably think I'm mad, don't you?"
"It depends what you mean by 'mad'."
Oh, damned. I have this awful habit of talking without thinking.
She's the customer, Sheila. The customer. She pays.
Ooh, okay. If that doesn't scare you, think of your boss, Sheila. Mr. Tang.
I shudder.
Great. I've just remembered that I'm not alone.
I look at the blonde girl across me, bracing myself to be taken away to the asylum.
She gives me a weird look before...
Breaking into peals of laughter.
I cringe.
"Oh, no, no, no." the girl says, noticing my evolving into part-tomato. "I'm not laughing at you. It's just..." she takes in another deep breath. "You're funny."
Aw, heck with Mr. Tang.
It couldn't be such a crime to befriend a customer, now, could it?
"So I've been told," I smile at the girl.
She returns the smile.
Right on cue, both gentlemen - sorry, gentleman (that's Dave). Snide Guy doesn't count for obvious reasons - walk into the café.
"One mocha latte, one Sheila special." Dave says, placing the orders on the counter in front of the pair.
I spun around & glare at Dave.
Sheila Special? I mouth at him, bewildered.
He shrugs & gives a silent laugh when I threw him my glare of throwing daggers at him.
Counting one to five in my head - in Italian, mind - I take in a deep breath, stretch my lips wide enough for a smile & focus my attention back to the two.
If a passerby took a glance at them, one would think that they're having a good time.
But if you look closer, you'd notice how sad the girl seems & the guy... Well, I feel like throwing a punch at his nose. He looks so smug.
Ooh, I better focus my anger somewhere else or I'd most likely be arrested for assault.
(Not like he doesn't deserve it...)
No! No, no, no! Bad Sheila. Okay, time to grab that Sudoku book & finish that page 67.
Phew.
Somewhere in the back of my head, a thought suddenly pops into my mind.
There might be such a thing called Sudoku Therapy. Seriously.
I hear someone clearing their throat.
I look up & see the grinning couple of blondes.
"Thanks," the guy says & after shelling out the eight bucks, he winks at me.
I'd like to take this time to say : Ew. I have this sudden urge to take a shower.
He then walks to the coat stand & 'chivalrously' take hers along.
Before the girl left, she slips me five bucks beneath my Sudoku book. "Thanks so much. You know, you're a really great listener."
She smiles at me - I think that that was the warmest, most genuine smile I have ever received in my entire life - & leaves the café doors with that slimeball.
"What are you sighing about?" I hear Dave say from behind.
"Nothing. It's just..." I pause, wondering how to form the next sentence without sounding insane. "I'm so grateful to be blessed with average looks instead of jaw-dropping beauty."
Dave gives me a Look.
One of those looks people can never describe in words & can only be experienced.
He mutters something under his breath but I didn't catch anything.
Before I could even ask what he just said, he walks back into the kitchen, looking a little... Red in the face?
