Bar Crawl(11)

Regardless of if I was his type according to my looks, I was more uncertain about whether or not I was his type. We’d seen each other several times over the last few months and this would be our third non-date in thirty-six hours. Though I’m not sure stalking counts as a date, it was kind of sexy. Still, I didn’t know CJ to date, and we hadn’t done anything more physically apart from him touching my cheek a couple of times. Which was borderline Amish in the world according to CJ.

As I rounded the corner and saw the coffee shop ahead, I wondered again what CJ expected from me. Was this just a long, drawn-out foreplay to him? I was too old for that shit. Yet, I showed up at the coffee shop on time anyway. Well, a little early, because I wanted to be able to pick out our seat and have a few moments to collect myself further.

My eyes flew to him the second I stepped through the door. He was at the table in the corner I was going to claim for us, and it struck me with a bizarre sense of déjà vu. I knew we hadn’t been here together before, but…he was in my spot.

As if the sight of him wasn’t disorienting enough as it was, he stood from the booth as I approached it. He stood and gestured his hand.

“I picked a table. Hope you don’t mind.”

The muscles in my jaw felt like they’d been snipped the way my mouth hung open. Sliding into the bench across from his, I noticed he’d been working on a computer. An impressive looking model—a MacBook Pro, I think--that I knew to be incredibly high-end according to the techies at my school.

Since I’d seemed to have temporarily lost all vocal cord function, CJ spoke again as he remained standing next to the table. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Uh…sure,” I answered, trying to bring feeling back to my tongue. “A medium skim chai. Say medium, not grande. They speak English here.”

CJ laughed as he turned on his heels and walked to the counter.

I stared at the silver laptop, which he’d left open. I wanted to lean across the table and look around at the screen. It was an expensive toy for a drummer in a bar band to have.

“Here you go,” CJ said when he returned to our table.

“Thank you. How much was it?”

“Don’t worry about it. My treat.” He curled his fingers around the top edge of the monitor and slowly closed the laptop. I stared at his hand as it rested on top of the machine. “What?”

I sipped my latte and grinned. “Kind of an expensive way to get porn, wouldn’t you say?”

“Burn!” CJ laughed loudly, causing me to laugh at my own joke, which I hated doing. No matter how good they were. “Wow, you have a really low opinion of me, don’t you…”

A tiny pit in my stomach began to form as he trailed off. It seemed I’d struck a nerve, but I hadn’t been given evidence for anything else. “Well, the only things I know about you are that you’re in a band, and you like women enough to broadcast it to everyone at any bar you go to.”

I could feel the fabric from his jeans rub against my shin as he bobbed his knee up and down. CJ twisted his lips slightly as he opened his laptop, clicked a few keys, then turned the whole thing toward me.

The oversized screen was filled with gibberish. Code, I believe the technical term is, but gibberish to everyone else.

“So?” I shrugged.

“I was working for a while before you got here, Frankie.” He took a deep breath through his nose, spun the computer back around, and closed it once again.

I exhaled loudly, with a heavy dash of humility. “It hadn’t occurred to me you, like, had a job job. Sorry. Wait…computers?” I had so many questions at once.

CJ grinned. He hadn’t shaved yet for the day, and I was kind of liking the scruff. “Well, I don’t have a job job, as you call it.”

“So then why—”

“All right.” He put his hands up in mock surrender. “Wanna know something real about me?”

“Please.” I was equal parts intrigued and nervous.

He leaned back in his seat. “I have my degree in computer science.”

I laughed.

I couldn’t help it. It just came out like a sneeze and before I knew it I was covering my mouth in sheer embarrassment.

“Nice,” he groaned.

“No. No, I’m sorry. It’s just. What the hell?” I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent any more outbursts.

CJ held back a smile as he leaned forward on his giant forearms. “I do. From WPI.”

I wasn’t laughing anymore. It had just gotten serious. “Holy shit, really? I… Well for Christ’s sake, CJ, can you blame me for my reaction? Why the hell aren’t you using that degree? WPI is an insanely good school!”

CJ brought his hands up and lowered them slowly. “Calm down, people are staring.” He lowered his own voice as he spoke again. “I just showed you what I was working on, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” I snickered, “but it wasn’t in English. And, you’re constantly playing at bars. Four to five nights a week. How do you manage a nine-to-five?”

CJ ran a hand through his hair. “Clearly I need to back up.”

“Clearly.” Worcester Polytechnic Institute was serious business, and I needed to know if CJ was bullshitting me.

“I graduated four years ago,” he stated.