I was really hung over this Saturday but I decided to give a fuck and had a pretty good day running errands anyway. I finally got back home to my café, all sweaty and hot, and asked my precious waitress for something to cool me down. I’m participating in a short-story competition and had five candidates I had to go through. But I couldn’t really focus, since she was waiting tables around where I was sitting, in addition to the hangover which was returning with a vengeance.
We’ve been flirting over a period of time, but she’s the kind of girl who’d never look twice on someone like me. She’s way too good looking, and what am I really but a skinny nerd with glasses and bad habits? A beautiful mind is hardly perceived on the outside. That she didn’t have a ring wasn’t good enough.
After about one and a half hour it was starting to get cold, and I needed something to warm me up. Out of pure childish joy I decided to buy some hot chocolate. The next time the girl came around she was carrying a little bit of ice cream to someone, but I managed to get her attention.
– Could you get me some hot chocolate? It’s getting pretty cold in the shade here.
A look of disappointment ran over her face. She blushed.
– But I brought this for you..
Dumbfounded and out of words as always.
– I should have thought that, in the shade and all she said.
She was so let down.
– No, no. I’d really like some ice cream, but can I have some hot chocolate too?
She smiled again, and I was let alone to my business, more confident than ever.
Pistasie ice cream was not a great idea on a queezy stomach, however.
Then the chef arrived.
I’ve met him before through the chef where I work, since they know each other from previous work, so I wasn’t surprised when he sat down to have a chat.
– So it is you who are ruining my day? he said.
– What have I done now, then?
– She’s so lost into you that she can’t do her work proper.
My heart skipped a few beats.
– She keeps handing out wrong orders and has me making ice cream for you
– Well, I-
– You’d better ask her out on a date before she gets fired.
I tried to work the ice cream as best I could when she got me the chocolate. At that time the chef was telling me about an old aquintance who wrote pornographic shorts for sleezy mags. I’ve written erotic tales, but I’ve never put eroticism up as a subject for itself. Not in a sleezy way, at least.
– Most erotic tales are really boring, I said
– Not of you’ve experienced it yourself he replied
I looked at her waiting for him to leave. The chef took the hint.
– So would you go out with me?
– What has he been telling you?
– That doesn’t matter, because I’d love to take you out
She shyly admitted that she’d love that too, and gave me her phone number. "I will call you then", I said. "But what’s your name?" And she told me. I’m pretty vain when it gets to names, and hers was one I could admire, taste and sing. That is not for you to hear, though. We took our leave and parted, I couldn’t concentrate on my work and neither could she apparently. I promised to call her some time in the week, and said my goodbyes.
I got home in time just before the ice cream and hot chocolate came back up.