Composure

Chapter 4

I sat in front of the person who I only remembered a couple days ago.

He moved a little in his seat, as if he was a college professor getting ready for another student lecture.

"I usually come here a couple times a week, and I usually don't come here at night but I had the thirst for coffee so I decided to come here after the show."

I nodded, waiting for him to continue

"Then when people from inside noticed that some fragile, young teenager was laying in my arms, that didn't go too well at first until I had to say my part. Some woman, I think she works here? She wears a blonde wig.." he continued, trying to describe Monica in discreet detail.

"You mean Monica? She wears those."
He looked up from his black coffee cup with no reaction like I expected.

"So she saw me? What did she do?"

He then changed his face, along with the mood to more of a serious tone.

"She ran out saying to bring you inside because she already knew something wasn't right. Then, I saw her on the phone with someone. I brought you inside, then some man showed up named Frank," he started to say while I mentally groaned

"Then last thing I remember is him taking you home." And he finished with that, taking another sip. Was there more to say?

"That's it?" He barely gave me any information on an such an important subject. Not that I care as much, I guess I never received a concussion after all.

"What? You expected it to be worse?" He asked

I felt my face get warm because, well, it's not like I expected to be in the arms of some stranger. It's obvious he could hold me with no problem but I still felt the blush on both cheeks while thinking about it. Before I could say anymore, I hear the chef tap his finger on the bell for it rang through the whole restaurant.

While bringing back his food in one tray, Jon decided to look out the window that poked out to the side. It was a cloudy day, no sun. You could feel the room darken as the clouds start to shift from gray to dark gray in the sky.

"Thank you.."

I watched him gladly take the plates, like a kid on Christmas Day. He started rubbing his hands together with strong friction, then grabbing his fork in his left hand.

"You're left handed?"

"You're a human?" He said back faster in reply

"Sorry, usually guys named Jon go to the right hand." I said while sliding back in the booth ignoring the work place.

"Specific names don't have specific writing ways."

I moved a little in my booth, I'm so curious.

"What is your full name?"
He started to laugh

"Are you a detective now?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I said trying to keep a straight face, staring him down.

"Jonathan Demetri"

I nodded, approving of the name

"But, I prefer Dean." He said as he was scraping something on the toast with his spoon.

"You know, I was taught not to play with my food."

"Oh no, this isn't. This is pure heaven."
He started to shove his sunny side up in the hole of the toast, then taking a big bite, Engulfing the masterpiece he made.