Love Has No Color

Chapter 3

Nastasia's POV:

I dragged my feet after biology class ended. I hated biology, like literally out of all my courses in college, I dreaded biology. I never understood it. We're like water and oil. We don't mix as much as I try to study, practice or pay attention. I excel in any other course of class or major but not biology. I honestly don't know how I passed biology in high school. Thank god my future job in the journalism field doesn't require any biological field. Sadly, Defene wasn't in my class so I was stuck in a class with twenty other people in there who knew what they were doing. But I didn't know. 

I walked out the NYU science building and texted Defene to meet me at a cafe at Wall Street. I wanted to have something to eat since it was already 1:30 in the afternoon. I didn't have anything left to do all day since I went to all my classes for today. I began walking when I spotted someone too familiar across the street from me. I stopped and studied his face, I knew the body, but I was just waiting for the face to become more clearer. The grin became crystal clear and it was none other than Carlos Rivera, my neighbor who lived on the same floor as me. I shouted his name and placed my hands on my hips. I expected this boy to be at school today, not working, since I saw his shirt and jacket unbuttoned and not tucked.  He jogged his way towards me and grinned ever so brightly. 

"Waspoppin'," He said as he hugged me.  

"Nothing much, just heading towards Wall Street to get something to munch on. You?"

"Just heading home, my shift just ended, I pulled a night one, so imagine that." He said as he looked super tired. The poor kid is only seventeen and working a job during night shifts, I don't blame him. His dad is the only one supporting him and his seven year old sister. But being a truck driver takes away the time to have with his family. 

"Are you sure? I mean, I'll pay for you since you paid last time we ate out together." I mentioned but he still wasn't convinced. "We're having burgers and I'll buy you a Corona,...maybe." I said as I walked ahead of him. I turned to see him smiling following. 

The whole way there he kept on telling me how he liked his job. The job paid well and the people on the East side aren't as quote, "bastardos ricos idiotas" which in translation meant rich asshole bastards. He mentioned how there were a few cool teens my age or around my age that were chill and cool.  The girls, too. Especially this girl. He told me her name was Camille but her family members call her Cami. She explained how she was beautiful not pretty. She had nice colored eyes, spoke proper, and had long brown hair. And how she was rich and white. 

"Well, does race matter if you were to date her?" I asked while we entered the restaurant.  He shrugged as we took our seats. Defene looked up from her phone smiling ear to ear. But I was still having the conversation with Carlos. 

"No, but all honesty, do you think a white girl like her, with all that money and high fucking position that her family has, would go out and date a boy like me who lives in a shitty building in Harlem?" He slouched back on his chair. Defene looked confused as she finally put down her phone. 

"Uh oh. What's this conversation about today?" She asked.

"Nothing just conversating about minorities and who and what they should date." I answered and I looked at my menu. Carlos shook his head as he knew he felt other wise. 

"Well, can I dish in?" Defene asked. I shrugged, as did Carlos. " I think love has no color, nor religion, race, or gender. And coming from a person who practices Islam and wears a hijab, love should be something you just feel and express. Now that's my position." She finished and smiled. Carlos rolled his head and just nodded. I knew he agreed, like I did. The waiter came and we ordered. 

"Do you have a shift tonight?" Defene asked as she put her phone down. The thing has been going off every minute. Someone has been texting her non stop and she hasn't told me who it is, yet. But I know eventually she'll tell me who it is.

"Yep, so you can pick me up around ten tonight." 

"I can't. I have prayer tonight and then after that my mother is going shopping for my sister's wedding and I'm pretty sure she'll not let me out of her sight at all today. Right now is the only free time I have to spend with you guys." I made an 'o' shape with my mouth and looked down at my black screen of my phone. I was hoping that she'd hang out with my tonight, because if I'm free, my boss at the diner would make me stay later. And I was already exhausted. And to add tot he melancholy news, at midnight, weird pervy customers would come in and stare disgustedly at me. 

"Well, I'm free," Carlos added, "and believe it or not, I good at listening to girls. So girl talk is okay with me." He smiled, showing off his dimples. I made a sarcastic like smile and said no. The food came and we dined. I even sweet talked our waiter to get Carlos and me two beers, so I guess we had a great time before my worse.

 - 10 HOURS LATER -

Only 11:39 and my life was consist of me throwing little pieces of paper in a garbage can five feet away from me. So far, none has missed and only three customers were in and dining.

Thankfully, none of the pervy customers have arrived, and I'm praying they don't come in today, but never say never. Omar was stuffing his face in baked mac and cheese, collard greens, and balsamic roasted chicken salad. I cringed while watching him. I, on the other hand, was eating vanilla ice cream with cinnamon toast crunch sprinkled on top. I was sitting behind the counter and just eating and staring through the window watching everyone pass down. But that just me daze out and daydream.

The bell of the door rang, meaning another customer had just entered. I turned away and put my bowl of ice cream into the kitchen. I made a quick prayer for my life. Pushing the door from the kitchen, the customer just happened to be another millennial. He was alone and seemed amidst depressed like. And for some reason white. In this diner, our cumstomers consist of only minorities of color. We rarely get Caucasian customers. And if we do that'll mean the are making their way into our neighborhood and taking over, trying to make it into their own. Which will never happen because we, as a neighborhood, are stubborn as hell. And for some reason the few minutes I was gone, so we're the rest of the three customers. They left and the only one left was the white boy. I went over to there tables an d collected their tips and stuffed it into my pocket of my apron.

I walked over to him but I decided to stop because, the last time I went to a white person to take their order, they rudely told they weren't ready yet and advised me that if I want my tips to patiently wait for someone to be ready for an order. So I went back behind the counter an dreamed back to eating my ice cream this time I added fries.