October.
"Close up time, it's close up time," Michael sang, stacking up the stools on the tables that lined the glass of the café. I laughed at how adorable my best friend is, knowing him for two years, being both twenty and yet he still acted like a six year old.
College was a no for me, ever since I had quite a heated argument with my parents.
Well okay, if you were describing the argument that happened between my parents and I three years ago, "heated" would be an understatement. More like, "intense, lots of yelling, lots of tears, too many choices which caused me to be anxious" argument.
When my dad told me a good friend of his worked in Harvard and told me that I could apply with an automatic let-in, I practically bolted out of my house in Vancouver and headed to where my feet would take me, which was here in New York. I haven't seen them in two years and the guilt of ditching them was eating me alive up to now.
I didn't want to go to college. I wanted to live my life, travel, meet new people, fall in love, (like that's going to happen). I didn't want to waste my life trying to be a doctor; I was adventurous and didn't want to be stuck in a hospital all day. But of course I didn't want to tell my parents that; I didn't want to let them down, so I left.
I had my own apartment and so did Michael, but he could be mistaken to be living with me, since he's in there almost all the time. I don't mind, though.
I had enough money for myself, so that wasn't a problem. The money I made from Starbucks was decent, and the trust fund my grandma had left me was good enough.
We were in the café and it was ten in the evening, Michael and I being told to work overtime with a few others that had already left (more like ditched) us here, so we had to clean up.
"We're here, left in this stupid café, which isn't fine."
"Then in the morning, at 7 a.m., it will be..." Michael paused, raising his eyebrows at me expectantly, smirking. We did this all the time when we were the only two left to close up the shop. Bruce said we had to do it most often, since we were the only ones "fooling around" and that we needed to "take more responsibility in our actions". I don't know how this will help but I don't see any problem with it either, so why not?
I sighed and shook my head, laughing slightly; even if we'd done this plenty of times I still couldn't believe how childish we were acting. I took a deep breath, "OPENIN' TIME, IT'LL BE OPENIN' TIME," I yelled, holding the broom as if it were a microphone stand.
"AND THEN WE'LL GET OUR PAY CHECKS, YOURS AND THEN MINE." He sang, louder.
"AND THEN HE'LL JUST YELL AT US AND TELL US TO WORK OVERTIME,"
"WHICH WE'LL KINDLY DECINE,"
"But it isn't like we had a choice, anyway." I ended, mimicking Elsa from Frozen, which I happened to watch two nights ago with Mike in my apartment. That was the one time I'd actually seen it, which I admitted to Michael in the café earlier that day, while he just stared at me in shock and demanded to have a movie night at my place because apparently my Disney vibes were totally low, man.
It took a second until we both burst into laughter, which we did all the time whenever we sang our "Close Up the Café" song, but I didn't care. It was always better than the last.
"You know," I said, wiping a tear that fell from my eye as I kept sweeping. "You're actually not that bad when it comes to singing, Clifford." Michael smiled and then shrugged. "You could actually make it, if you tried hard enough."
"Nah," Michael waved me off with his hand. "'S not really my time of thing."
"Weren't you in a band, though?" I asked. He told me he was in a little band when he was a younger teenager, but they had a bit of a fall out when one member kept ditching practices, which led to fights, and then led to giving up on the whole thing instead.
"I was," Michael's eyes lit up, as he reminisced to when he was younger. "It was a fun time, but those dumb fucks though. It was such a lack of commitment in the world. Shameful, I tell you."
"Yeah," I agreed. "And besides, you wouldn't look good in a band. I don't see it."
"I'm more of a coffee shop type of person." He laughed, and I joined him as we closed up the café. He stuffed his hands in his pockets due to the cold November weather that has been upon us.
"You walking home?" He asked, voice slightly muffled from tucking his chin deep into his coat.
"Yeah," I shrugged, shivering. "It's only like, three blocks down. Plus I could use the exercise."
"You know, I'm still holding you up to my deal, where I sell my apartment come live with you."
"You probably won't even pay rent. I'll end up doing everything." I chuckled, pushing a few strands of my brown hair out of my eyes and mouth from the cold wind that decided to fly by.
"I will! I swear, I'll even cook for you, and clean, and do my own laundry, and I won't leave my clothes on the floor, this time. Not even my underwe-"
"Don't continue, I've heard enough." I laughed, covering my ears. Michael moving was a pretty good idea. We've known each other and clicked from the start. But he was messy as fuck, I learned that when he stayed overnight a couple of weeks ago due to a spider in the corner of his bedroom back at his apartment. Underwear on the ground and everything. "I'll consider it, I don't know. Don't get any ideas."
"Aw," He pouted. "You'll come around eventually." He winked, giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I'll be off, now. Be safe, and don't talk to strangers. Okay?" He says sternly.
I roll my eyes. "Of course, duh. Don't worry about me, all right? 'S not that far down. Be safe, Clifford! Love you!" I quickly yelled to my light haired friend who was already making his way down the sidewalk.
"Love you too, Winters! See ya tomorrow!"
I chuckled lightly and shook my head before turning around and making my way towards my apartment. That's when my mind wandered to my parents back in Canada. I wonder how they're doing. Are they still living there? Are they still the same, old parents that like to keep their reputation clean and perfect? Do they still have the need to have everything according to some plan of theirs, as long as it doesn't smudge their pretty little reputation?
My thoughts were interrupted when I was knocked to the ground. I had been so lost in thought of my parents that I didn't watch where I was going, or who I bumped into. A familiar black journal was on the ground, it had probably fallen from the little commotion that happened. The journal was messily decorated if you would call it that, little x's here and there, tally marks and smiley faces. What caught my eye were small letters on the edge of the little book that I couldn't make out from the darkness of the night until I squinted. "l h".
"Watch where you're going." A voice mumbled, before a large hand quickly retrieved the journal. And that's when I looked up and held back a gasp as I watched the person walk away.
I was left a little dazed, still sitting on the ground, my apartment building close by, due to this boy.
Yes, I meant boy.
This person happened to be the boy that sat on the bench across the café. This boy happened to be the person I was so intrigued by.
l h. I had finally got something out of my mystery, and man, did I feel lucky sitting on the gravel with a smile on my face.
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