Wrong for Me

02|wallets and coffee

DANTE MANCINI—MAY

AFTER LEAVING THE RESTAURANT yesterday afternoon, I haven't been able to take my mind off of our waitress—Naomi I think her name was.

Not only was she stunning, but she knew how to hold her own—she didn't seem to let anyone get away with disrespecting her. For as long as I can remember, I've gone after women who let me do the talking and take control of things—timid women. But something about her was so intriguing.

Waking from my bed with a start, I immediately walked into my bathroom to take a quick shower and fix my hair that looked disheveled from my slumber. Afterwards, I slipped into my suit for work, deciding to go with a navy blue one for today.

As I got myself prepared for the day, I couldn't ignore the silence that encapsulated my home. I wasn't lonely—I was far from it with the friends and cousins that I was always with—but my home was the one place where all of that was gone.

With time left before I needed to be at work, I decided to make a stop for coffee. The place may have been a bad choice with how many college students were filtering in and out of the crowded cafe, but it was the best in the city.

Once I was in line, I checked as many emails as I could on my phone, chuckling at the hilarity of some of the ones my friend—Mauricio—had sent me. I was still pissed at him with the way he treated the waitress—Naomi—the day before and even more with the way he wouldn't apologize. His ego and pride had always been his hinderance.

Suddenly, the sound of something hitting the ground in front of me pulled my gaze away from the phone screen and down to my feet where something had fallen. Seeing that it was a sky blue wallet, I bent down to pick it up before tapping the shoulder of the woman standing in front of me.

"I think you dropped this," I spoke, feeling my eyes widen when my gaze landed on her face.

Standing right in front of me, reaching out to take the wallet, was Naomi looking just as ravishing as she had the afternoon prior. Yesterday, her hair was out in an afro, yet today she had it pulled up on top of her head, allowing me to see her face even better. Her almond brown eyes landed on me, widening in realization before I saw her physically tense up.

"Thank you," she smiled, taking the wallet from my hands as our fingers brushed ever so slightly, seemingly sending sparks through my body. "And thank you for the tip yesterday, you didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to. It's not every day that you have a waitress that good...and gorgeous,"
I spoke carefully, not wanting to give off the wrong impression of being just like my Mauricio. Nonetheless, I watched as her cheeks flushed at my words and she bit down on her plump, bottom lip.

What I could do to those lips.

Breaking away from my thoughts, I brought my eyes back up to hers to see that she appeared to be waiting for me to say something. She responded and I completely missed it.

"I'm sorry, what'd you say."

"I didn't say anything," she replied, quirking an eyebrow at my awkwardness. Clearly, we were both confused because this wasn't like me at all.

Then, she turned right back around and the conversation—if it could even be called that—came crashing to an end, leaving me longing to just hear her voice again and be graced with her beautiful appearance.

"Are you a student at Whitmore?" I questioned, referring to the university just down the street from here. Occasionally, I spoke there for business classes as a way of somehow inspiring the students with my amazing story. I never told them how rare it was to have the sort of success that I did.

"Graduate student," she replied confidently, turning ever so slightly to look at me.

"What for?"

"For education," she replied jokingly, raising an eyebrow at me as a smirk grew on my face. I liked this girl. "I'm getting my masters in English."

The line moved up just then, meaning she was next. I waited as she placed her order, getting two coffees with intrigued me a bit as I wondered who for. Just as she reached to give the man her card, I placed mine down instead.

"I've got it," I told her, ignoring the shocked expression on her face and stepping forward so that I was next to her, placing my order as well.

"You didn't have to do that," she muttered once we moved to the side and waited for our drinks, her eyes dancing around the cafe to look everywhere but at me. I was making her flustered—which only egged me on even more.

"I wanted to."

She simply nodded her head in response and we waited in silence for our drinks. Finally when we grabbed them, she turned back to face me.

"Thank you. Really. I um...I have to get to class," she spoke as if she owed me an explanation.

"Wait," I called out before she could turn around to leave, grabbing a complaint card and pen from the counter. Quickly, I scribbled down my first name and number before passing it to her. "Call me if you need another coffee...Naomi, right?"

She nodded her head and took the card from my hands. I watched as her eyes scanned the card, her lips twitching up into a smile the slightest bit.

With that, I gave her a small nod as a way of saying goodbye before walking past her and out of the cafe, hoping she would take my invite for her to call me.

And then I scoffed to myself at the fact that I had used such a cheesy line to give her my number. That wasn't like me at all.

***
NAOMI COLE

"DANTE," VERONICA SPOKE WITH furrowed eyebrows as I passed the man—Dante's—number over to her.

The shock I felt when I saw his face in that cafe was nothing compared to the nerves I felt when he began speaking to me. Just yesterday I had thought that I would never see the man again, yet there he was behind me in one out of the dozens of coffee shops in the city.

"This is a sign," Veronica exclaimed from beside me, some of her coffee sloshing out of her cup as she passed me the number again. "A man...and not just any average man according to you...gave you his number after seeing you the night before at your waitressing job. This is like a rom-com! You have to call him!"

As much as I hated to admit it—she was right. There was definitely a reason we were brought together once again, but I was willing to ignore that sign if necessary. I still wasn't over the way his friend had disrespected me, and I could only guess that his friend was a reflection of him as well.

But, then again, he had been the one to apologize twice and he seemed to hold good conversation from the small talk and banter we held this morning.

"I'll think about it," I told Veronica just as we walked into class.

And I would think about it.