Max and Matt; Matthew POV
“Alright,” Max gave in, giving me an exasperated look, “We’ll wait, but I swear Matthew, the instant a teacher comes by here, we are ditching this place.”
I nodded complacently, smug with my victory over her. I could understand why she was so anxious. Max wasn’t a cutter, but I was. I was used to seeing teachers walk by me, rolling their eyes in my direction, or throwing a “where were you today Mr. Bernard” question in my face. Max wasn’t. What was worse was that the park was only a few blocks distance from our school. A lot of people adored walking through here in the early rays of the morning sunlight, before school started, and teachers were no exception.
“Hey,” I began, about to suggest a probably escape route, should any of our astute instructors pass by.
“Hm?” Just as the bland answer slipped from her mouth, something soft bumped into my back. I blinked for a moment, slow and deliberate, trying to process weather or not to turn around. For all I knew, it was just an accident. But, as human nature dictates, my head eventually turned to meet the eyes…no the top of the
head of the person that’d bumped into me.
Looking down, I was greeted by a pair of shy looking eyes. Well, almost greeted. The person who’d bumped into me was a girl, with a cute kind of roundish face and a pair of headphones glued into her ears.
The set of headphones that she’d stuck in ears looked familiar, like one of the many pairs I owned (neatly hanged up in a special casing in my room at our Malibu house) and so I couldn’t help myself when I said, “I have pair of headphones
exactly like those. Oh, and nice sweater.”
It was the first time I’d noticed her clothes. Her pants seemed to be sprayed with paint, which gave her an overall artistic look that struck me as familiar. Where had I seen this face before?
Ah. School. Of course.
I had a few classes with the girl, whose name I failed to remember, but had barely gotten to know her due to my constant cutting streak. From what I knew, the few times I’d seen her, she always had a sketch book with her, and was pretty artsy. I’d glimpsed some of her drawing and thought they were amazing, but had never thought to actually talk to her.
I guess it comes with the ranking. This girl was quite keep to herself type of girl, where as I was the outgoing hang with the bad-boys type of guy. Of course, due to social cliques that developed in school, I’d never talked to her much. In fact, I don’t remember having
ever talked to her.
“I’m Matthew,” I said casually, trying to look friendly, “We go to the same school together. Same grade. Same classes too. At least some of em’. I’m not sure I caught your name though. If you haven’t notice,” I gave her a sheepish grin, “I don’t show up often.”
Behind me, I could almost feel Max’s eyes putting holes through my back. There was no doubt in mind that she had laser vision. Jeez.
Alex and Mishka; Mishka POV
“Al,” I said, causing my sweet husband to pry his eyes from the paper.
“Hm.”
“Sweetie you’re going to be late for practice,” I was eyeing the gold antique looking clock that this particular Starbucks had hung upon the bars of it entering doorway.
“Shoot,” he said, whistling at the end as he doubled checked with his own wrist watch. I was going to with Alex for his soccer practice today. He’d jokingly suggested that the coach took it a lot easier on the whole team when I was around, and I’d figured that he’d literally meant it.
“Want anything sweet before we leave?” He asked, slipping me the keys so I could go start up the car.
“Uh-huh. Get me some cookies,” I said, shuffling my heavy set of art papers together, and heading out to the car.
I nodded before Mish disappeared from my line of sight. My coach would typically have my head for being late. But Mishka totally softened him up. I guess it had to do with the fact that none of his grandkids were old enough to have kids yet, and since he treated the whole team like we were his sons, he had a soft spot for our families too. Besides, he’d been on a low note for the past couple of days, and I thought having Mishka around to talk with him would help him unwind a bit. The team and I were pretty sure his youngest daughter had dropped the bomb that she wanted to get married, but none of us mentioned it to his face. He’d tell us when he was ready.
I bit my bottom lip. By the time I’d gotten on line, I’d ended up with a blonde cashier. The blonde
male cashier. I, like many of the men who walked in here, had at first thought he was a woman. Boy, was I wrong. Fortunately, I hadn’t made the mistake of going up and flirting with him, since I’d already been madly in love and married to my wife. It was a bit disconcerting to see just how feminine he was, but personally I had nothing against homosexuality, or bisexuality, or any other sexuality. The reason I’d found it so uncomfortable was because I’d literally thought he was a women, and hadn’t been sure if, to him, that was a compliment or an insult.
Usually, I tried to avoid getting him as my cashier due to the awkwardice of the situation, but this time, seeing as it was inevitable, I put on my most pleasant face.
“Good morning,” I said, eyes idly passing over the cookies as I tried to decide what to get for Mish. It never failed to surprise people at how deep my voice was, or how tall I was for a person of Hispanic descent, and I caught the women at the next register give me a passing glance, before reaching a delicate hand out to me.
I looked up at her, raising my eyebrows in the “what’s your question way.”
“You model. For Armani Exchange. You play soccer. Alexander Romero, was it?” she stated matter-of-factually. I nodded, flashing a brief dazzling model smile (like they’d taught us), and she looked thrilled about the fact that she’d met an Armani Exchange male model.
Turning back to the blonde cashier, I shook my head giving a sheepish smile before saying, “Sorry about that. Um, can I have three of those huge chocolate chip cookies.” They were about the size of my hand, and no doubt enough to curb Mishy’s sugar urge, “and a bottle of water.”
