Tom lit his cigarette against the harsh, autumn wind and with his face screwed up from the cold, took a hard drag. He cringed at the acrid taste and his lungs shrieked in pain as the smoke poured inside him. He pulled the cigarette away from his lips as he mused to himself, "This is it. This is the last one."
Ash flitted on top of the thigh of his white wash jeans as he played with the cigarette between his left index and thumb. His blue T shirt entirely concealed by his black duster which was pulled in tight to shelter him from the gale. He had been waiting for Cathy for more than half an hour. The chilly, damp air flowed through his hair as his legs involuntarily rocked his chair at the table of this street side café.
The white and red chequered tablecloth fluttered in the gust and threatened to snatch his pack of cigarettes away. He snatched the pack and his lighter of the table and stuffed then into the inner pocket of his jacket. "I could just leave," the ingenious voice in his head cajoled his inner sceptic upon whom it dawned that she might not show. As his spirit began to surrender to the notion, he suddenly caught a glimpse of the wispy blonde hair among the fresh crowd of people turning the street corner in front of him.
Relief.
But Tom was also mystified. Why had she decided to show? They were barely strangers and yet, here she was. It seemed strange to him. He had no recent memories of asking women to come and meet him in cafés and even fewer of actual women showing up. Tom's sexual needs were gratified only with the occasional hooker. But he didn't enjoy it much. And the kinks he craved; few hookers could oblige.
Cathy moved in fast stride. Her beige trench coat didn't contrast well to the lemon yellow turtle neck sweater top she was wearing. Her khaki trousers cascaded the brown boots that thudded lightly as she came up to his table
"Hi."
"Hey. What can I get you?" asked Tom, raising himself to pull out a chair as an awkward smile wriggled on her pale face.
"Ohh, anything warm would be just great right now. Umm. Could we move inside?" she asked, indicating to the empty tables on the other side of the shop's windows. Illuminated in a warm yellow, the entire interior of the café was inviting her to feel its embrace.
"Yeah. Sure." Tom said, stubbing his cigarette on the ash tray, swiftly pushing the chair back in place, grabbing her by the small of her back and whisking her through the door.
The atmosphere inside was of a completely different world, toasty and welcoming, quieter than the street outside, the reticent whisperings of the other customers were the only sounds in the air through which the perfume of ground coffee and caramel gracefully floated.
Cathy noticed a couple giggling, leaning in shoulder to shoulder as she and Tom moved onto a table he chose at the far end of the room. Cathy smirked as she pondered if her date would run a similar track. But she didn't even know if this was a date.
"Have you ever tried the vanilla latte here?" he asked, gliding towards the counter that was just behind his shoulder before she could answer.
Tom began his parley with the barista, describing clearly how he needed the coffee to the teenage boy; it
had
to be extremely hot and extremely vanilla, explaining that he had hyped their café to the lovely lady who was seated at his table and anything less than perfect would be unacceptable to her. The boy behind the counter grinned at Cathy. She gave a weak smile and dropped her neck almost instinctively to avoid further interaction, feeling embarrassed from the way Tom made it seem that it was she who demanded pure luxury from their tiny little shop.
Tom noted her reactions from the corner of his eye, still fully engaged in his over the counter conversation.
"We'll have your order ready in a few minutes, Sir. Why don't you take your seat till then?"
Tom nodded with a smile and proceeded to their table, now his attention back fully on Cathy.
"I wish I could take you to the countryside and just leave you in a field somewhere."
"What? Why?" asked Cathy, completely puzzled. There was definitely a better way to invite a girl fo ra picnic
"You should be dancing and singing without a care in the world. I bet you'd be totally different if you didn't think anyone was looking at you. But you don't need to be so afraid." He said, reaching out for her hand which rested on the table, the feeling of his touch made her shiver, he could feel it, but she didn't pull away and that made him smile.
"I'm not afraid," but even as she said those words, a sharp feeling of uneasiness seized her, starting from her legs all the way up to her throat, making her heart skip. But it wasn't because of him, it was the threat of being vulnerable, opening herself to anyone, that she found disconcerting.
"You seem like someone who still has a lot to say to the world. A story left to be laid out. And maybe, part of you knows it too. But a part of you can't accept it. Like doing that, unleashing yourself, would be a betrayal."
"Can we talk about something else?" she didn't like the pandering. He tone wasn't even slightly disingenuous but these words made her recoil.
"Sure," he could sense that he had struck a nerve in some way, "Why don't we go somewhere? There's a little fair going on very close to my place. A bunch of little street shops and lots of families with kids running around. It's a bit too bright for me. But it's still interesting to watch. We'll take those to go, Toby." he said to the barista, getting up to collect the two cups, paying Toby the cash and beckoning Cathy to follow him out.
"How far's your place?"
