Toaster Notes From My Best Friend the Dating-Optimist (A Christian Romance)

Chapter Fifteen

Lunch is at The Merrymen Tavern again. I pay particular attention to the people and the things around me - something I had been too tired to do this morning. I'm thinking about writing about this place on my blog - the food is quite good. The decor is tasteful too. The whole place is spotless and practically new. Something I learned isn't as easy as you'd think from my not-so-brief stint working at my neighbourhood's greasy diner. Steph's. Steph herself was an obsessively clean individual, so I'd had a hard time understanding how she could let her restaurant fall into such . . . uncleanliness.

Putting these thoughts aside for the moment, I sit down at the table with the boys. Coach Anderson sits with us, looking decidedly more awake. I realize quickly that the source of her bright eyes is in her hands, in the form of a styrofoam (I knock a star off of my rating for The Merrymen Tavern because of this. A recent Google search on my part showed me that it is possible to buy twelve-ounce styrofoam cups by the thousand for about 2.7 cents. On that same website, twelve-ounce paper cups by the thousand costs about 3.1 cents apiece. Styrofoam is worse for the environment than paper.) coffee cup. I glance around me. Many of the boys are holding the same styrofoam coffee cups. Anton comes to sit next to me, coffee cup in hand. The fact that I want to pretend he doesn't exist no longer matters when the smell of his coffee hits my nose. I fight the urge to sigh. I need coffee. Jetlag is a vicious beast.

I begrudgingly ask Anton where he found the coffee. As I walk over to the machine, I wonder why nobody told me that there was coffee around at breakfast time.

The machine gives me an ultimatum as soon as I'm in front of it. Have coffee, but have it in a styrofoam cup - or don't have coffee. The demanding environmentalist in me takes a backseat, at least for the duration of lunch.

I suck down my cup of coffee like it's water. Considering how rarely I get coffee, I would like to pretend when questioned in the future that I savored this sub-par cup of coffee. Or at least realized after my first few sips that it's sub-par coffee. Unfortunately, I don't. It takes me a full ten minutes after I finish to realize that I was practically drinking the sludge that comes with the end of the pot. Even then, I only realize it when I take a few seconds to wonder why there's a disgustingly bitter and chalky taste in my mouth.

I wrinkle my nose in disgust as I run my tongue over the roof of my mouth. I'm quite close to gagging - I think. The taste won't go away. Even after I down two glasses of water. Anton glances over at me. His laughter comes on so suddenly that he nearly spits a half-chewed glob of his TLT (Turkey-Lettuce-Tomato) in my face. I recoil. He takes a second to swallow.

"What happened to your face?" He asks, mid-laugh. I point at his cup of coffee, which is still half-full next to his plate.

"Have you tried that coffee?" I ask. There's still a slight grin on Anton's face. He nods slowly, like I'm stupid.

"Yeah, did you? You know, before you chugged the whole thing?" My first instinct is to be angry and/or embarrassed, but I decide to let it go. It was a little dumb, on my part. My face flames nonetheless.

" . . . Not really, to be honest. I'm not allowed coffee at home unless it's a special occasion. I take it when I can get it." Anton nods, seeming to understand my plight. Or at least pretending to. When I'm not so caffeine and sleep-deprived, he seems like a decent guy - which is what Asia's been telling me for months. A little annoying, but decent. It also seems to be hard to avoid him. Besides, if he starts acting like he might cheat on Asia I can always shut him out. 

That seems like a decent plan, right?