TSTS: "The Girl in Question" Part III

(Note: The site will have to wait until Monday at the soonest - until then...)

5:56

It’s getting close to six, and so naturally, every little thing is making twitch – passing cars, walking people, flying bits of garbage… everything. Most people in town would assume that such an activity was normal for me – and it is – but Darren, bless him, knows that this time is different.

“She probably won’t even come in today,” he tells me.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I try to say casually – only to jump at the sound of the timer going off on one of our coffee makers.

“Oh really?”

“No idea.”

“Maybe I should tell Amy that when she comes in today.”

“But you said she probably wouldn’t come in… today…”

My speech slows at the end, because I know he got me, “You baited me. That was mean.”

“What can I say?” Darren says with a shrug, “I am the bait master. A master baitsman.”

I raise my cup in a fake “cheers” motion, which he accepts gratefully with a ‘tink’ of our glasses – but when our glasses are back down on the table, it’s right back to business.

“You’re too nervous about this girl,” he tells me with a slight shake of his head, “Even for you. And that’s just not healthy.”

“It’s a little healthy…”

He points a finger at me, “No. It’s not. And if you ask me, you could do with a morning without her coming into the shop. She makes you all jibbly.”

“Jibbly?”

“It’s a word. In the dictionary.”

“Of course.”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs, “Take a look at the Coffee Soupy. Doesn’t that guy look stressed?”

I look.

“Yeah, he kind’ve does,” I tell him, “But if I was living in a cup of coffee, I’d look worried too – because eventually, I’m going to be drank to death.”

“Not really the point.”

I sigh.

“I know. But what am I supposed to do about it?” I ask, “I can’t stop her from coming in here… and I can’t just tell my brain to stop thinking things… did you know it made me check to see if I had a penis this morning?”

“And did you?”

“Yes.”

Darren lets the conversation pause, because he knows what’s going to come next. And sure enough, my mind prods me again, and I casually move my hand below the table and pat my pants.

“Yes.”

“Well, then you need to start acting like you do,” he tells me, “Man up, and ask her out.”

My face goes a little red, “I couldn’t do that. How could I – no, that wouldn’t-”

Darren holds two fingers in the air to stop the rambling nonsense about to fall out of my mouth, “It’s all very simple. She walks in the door, you take her order, and before she leaves, ask her if she’d like you to go out on a date with you.”

“I-“

“Wait, no, tell her to go on a date with you.”

“Tell her?”

“She’ll say yes,” Darren explains, “Trust me. Girls love guys who have confidence.”

I give Darren a look.

“Oh right. Confidence.”

“Yeah.”

Many seconds pass – and then Darren says something that sum up both my hopes and fears for the future.

“You’re screwed.”

“Indeed I am.”