Here and Now

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Hey, CJ, will you get table 10 for me? I'm swamped!" One of my coworkers asked. I had no idea what her name was, and it wasn't because I was rude or 'greater-than-thou' but because we've never actually had a conversation. I had no idea how she knew my name but, a lot of people know me and know my name and I don't know them. For some reason people actually like me and want to talk and be friends. But I don't talk. I really don't talk to anyone except Casey and Gemma at school. I see no need to talk to anyone else but for some reason people saw a need to talk to me.

At my old school, things were different. I had two "best friends" named Leslie and Macy. We were at the top of the food chain and wanted by every guy and friended by every girl, whether we wanted to be friends with them or not, they thought we were friends atleast. We reveled in the power of ruling the school and walking down the halls and the people parting like the Red Sea. We had our own specific table and we spent an hour doing our hair in the mornings. I thought we had it all, but I soon found out those admirers could turn on you so easy, and that my "best friends" only cared about their private circle. You can only learn stuff like that the hard way. But in the end, I had one friend left. And she has been there for me since the beginning. Although she didn't live there with me, she lived in St. Louis and she was actually my cousin. We didn't see eachother much, but Jordan was always there for me. Through everything. Even though I had cousins who lived closer and I saw them all the time, me and Jordan shared a special bond. And when we moved, we both cried because we knew that meant seeing eachother in person less, but we didn't get to see eachother in person that often anyways, Skype was our way of connecting, so we were okay.

I was born and raised in Chicago, actually. We lived in a high rise apartment and I attended a top of the line private school, but all of that really means nothing. When you get down to it, what school you go to and the place you live means nothing about who you truly are. You, could be a completely terrible person, but live in the nicest neighborhood, or whatever, in town. Or vice versa. Really, no matter how cliché it sounds, material things mean nothing once you get down to it.

"Hello guys! My name is CJ I'll be your server today, can I start you guys out with some drinks?" I asked another stereotypical family who sat in front of me.

"Uh yes, could I have a water and the same for my husband, and lemonades for the kids." I looked over at what the woman called "kids" to see two fully grown men and one that looked to be maybe a little older than me. My eyebrow popped up. You call these young men kids? Alrighty. I mentally shrugged to myself and went off to go get their drinks. How the restaurant is set up is there are like different sections for the tables but at the side there is a huge bar, where I would get all of the drinks and put in all of the orders and everything else. So when you go and do your stuff, everyone in the whole restaurant is there looking at you. I absolutely hate it. It bothers me and makes me feel uncomfortable, especially when it's slow. So I try to set people as far away from that bar as I possibly can. But tonight we were extremely busy and a lot of the tables were filled so that wasn't technically a problem tonight but, still.

I went back with their drinks and kind of studied them with a glance before I spoke. "Are you guys ready to order or do you need a few more minutes?"

"I think we are ready." Said the oldest looking son with a star dazzling smile. But before he could even say anything else the mom interrupted, "We will have the traditional Chinese family style dinner. " Once again, my eyebrow popped up. That item was rarely ordered and especially by white people. I wrote it down and then grabbed up there menus, all the while taking in the Mom. She wasn't like most up tight rich white Moms, and she sure didn't dress like one. Her hips were wide, though she was in no way fat, and she wore a pair of faded light blue jeans that were high waisted. She also wore a team t-shirt for the Dallas cowboys. She was just as straightforward as most rich mothers, and while I could see the money radiating off her and her family, she seemed to in no way flaunt it other than the name on the side of her purse that was a very famous very expensive brand that I used to see my mom carry in Chicago. Her husband was very tall and was missing hair at the very top of his head, while the sides were very thick. He had a bright blinding smile, and while I know his wife took charge at the table, I perceived he was the head of the household. No questions asked.

Now I had the extreme urge to stare at the sons and analyze them as well but I knew if I stayed any longer it would be classified as weird and uncomfortable. So I scurried off and put in the order. I knew I wouldn't have to go over to that table again for a while since it was traditional. Traditional meant that there was a specific chef that came out and made all of this vegetable and rice and fish food stuff right in front of you. So I started to roll some silverware in the hopes of getting my mind off of this family that seemed to have won in the battle of catching my attention. They weren't like most families who came through the restaurant. I guess for some reason that intrigued me.

"Hi." I look up quickly to see the youngest looking son from that table right on the other side of that stupid bar which I said earlier that I hated. Well see? It's stuff like this that make me hate it. I simply glance back down at my working hands, hoping he would go away. "I just love the smell of coffee. Don't you?" He breathed in a deep breath as a tray of Chinese coffee passed.

"No." I said, moving to put the silverware under the bar, Still not looking at his face.

"How? Its so amazing! And it smells so good." I could see a giant grin on his face from my peripheral vision. I could feel my eyes try to roll.

I shrugged, "I don't like coffee." I picked up some glasses and started polishing them, trying to seem busy, still hoping he would go away. I really don't like talking to people. I looked up at his face to see a confused look rest there. He was handsome, with green eyes and brown swooped up hair. He was also very tall like his father and as soon as I took him in fully, I knew exactly who he was. Disgust crashed over me like a tidal wave. He actually went to my school. And he was in my grade. He was also the football captain. And just like every other cliché school in the entire United States of America, he was very popular. And a ladies man. My desperate need to end this conversation with him grew even more at realizing who he was.

"I have never heard of a girl who doesn't like coffee. I mean, wow. " his eyes were big. Then, slowly, the surprised look fell from his face and a smirk replaced it. "Not even Starbucks?" I couldn't help the disgusted look I sent him but I quickly recovered and just shook my head. "Uh, my name is Rome." He said trying to save the sinking ship that was this conversation. I saw another customer walk through the door so I used that as my great escape. I sent him a tight smile that didn't reach my eyes and walked away.

The very last thing I wanted to do was to have a conversation with Roman
Reynolds. I may have been rude by just walking away but I didn't really care at the moment. I don't like having conversations with people in the first place, much less him and I was not changing that just to be nice to some teenage boy trying to flirt it up. Sue me.