Nosebleed

Chapter 2

The cafe was a place I was quite familiar with. I've spent many days out of many weekends here. And I always order the same thing.... A java chip frappuccino. Coffee, Chocolate chips... Heaven in a cup. So I order and so does he, a straight black coffee. He insists on paying, and even though I usually stick with my rule of paying for myself because I can indeed take care of myself, I let him pay, thinking it was the respectful thing to do. We take our drinks from the barista with the pink hair and find a booth near the window. It was raining, and I knew that rain would eventually turn to snow. Even though I was sitting at a coffee shop with a practically complete stranger, I felt totally at ease.

"So tell me about yourself... Mia. I really like that name. It rolls off the tongue very easy. Mia." He proceeded to say my name multiple times, making me laugh.

"Um. Not much to tell really." Sip

"Oh that can't be true. A girl who reads self help books has got to have one hell of a story." Sip

"Uh. Well. Born and raised here. Youngest of three. Dads a journalist. Moms a housewife. Older brother is a math wiz. Older sister is training for the olympics in swimming and diving. Then there's me."

"And what do you do?"

"Read."

"That's it? All you do is read?"

"Not always. Sometimes I listen to music. Sometimes I watch movies. Sometimes I act on impulse and dye my hair a crazy color, like that one back there." I nod my head toward the pink haired barista with all the piercings in her face.

"You've dyed your hair pink?"

"Well not pink. But purple. And green. And silver."

"What's your favorite band?"

"How much time do you have?" He laughs. His laugh is quite contagious. It's a throaty laugh. And he always looks down when he does so.

"So what about you? What's your story?" I ask him.

"I grew up in Maine, near the ocean. It was the most beautiful place in the world. And I moved here when I turned 16 because my mom wanted the family to be close to her dying father. And then her father died and she made us stay here and take over his house. I don't mind. I got to keep all of his records."

I laugh. "You don't sound sad about your grandfathers death at all."

"I didn't really know him. But I do know he liked the Beatles. And Elvis Presley."

"Do you like the Beatles and Elvis Presley?"

"I'm trying to. After all, the records were all he left me in his will." I laughed again. Sip.

"Okay. Rapid fire. You ready?" He asked me.

"Go."

"Any piercings and/or tattoos?"

"2 ear piercings. Used to have a lip piercing, but I let it grow up. No tattoos yet."

"So you want tattoos?"

"Yes. Do you?"

"I do, but I don't know what I want yet. What kind of deodorant do you use?"

I laughed... Again. "What's next? What's my social security number?"

"Do you want to tell me your social security number?"

"Not really."

"Then I won't ask. What's your favorite thing about yourself?"

I thought about it a second. "My sense of humor. That's the only solid thing about me right now. Nothing else is... Concrete."

"That's okay. That's the exciting part about living."

He smirked at me, and I really started to take in his appearance. He had longish brown hair, the prettiest smile, bright green eyes. He was dressed in a plain white tshirt and a black leather jacket. He had on a pair of dark skinny blue jeans with holes in the knees. And he was wearing converse that looked like they had been through some serious wear and tear. His shoes could probably tell a million stories. He had the kindest eyes. And he was so confidently himself, it was such a beautiful thing.

We talked for hours. I really lost myself in the conversation, hearing about his favorite songs and about what he wants to be when he grows up. For the record, he wants to make movies and travel to countries and "do shit that actually matters." He was so interesting. He was a book. A real page turner. And then, a drop of blood dripped onto his white tshirt.

"Oh, um, your nose is bleeding?" I told him, realizing how dumb I sounded by making that a question.

"Ah shit. See what you did... 2 hours ago?" He joked.

"Can I umm, help or anything?"

"No that's okay. I really gotta get going. I have stuff for this in my car. Any chance I could get you to agree to do this with me again? Maybe next time with less blood?"

"Yeah! Umm..." I jotted my number down on a napkin. "Don't wipe blood on this one."

He laughed and smiled at me. "I'll see you around... Mia." He said, letting it "roll off of his tongue."

He walked out of the cafe, holding his nose inside a couple of napkins. It wasn't the one I had my number on. I took that as a good sign. I picked up my bag and my cold cup of coffee and walked to my car. Incidentally, it was now snowing.