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I bit my lip, unsure what to say next. Simon was always saying things that flummoxed me. Fortunately at that moment Crystal appeared, placing two cups of coffee and a small pitcher of milk on the table, not too lightly.
"Here," she intoned flatly, and walked away.
"Definitely in both of our plates," I concluded as I grabbed the pitcher and poured a good amount of milk in my coffee. I ripped open a couple of packets of sugar and dumped them in as well, stirring with a spoon as I watched Simon taking a sip of coffee, his eyes looking at me from above the rim. I knew from before at Colette's that Simon drank his coffee black.
"So what did you want to do today besides stuffing yourself with cholesterol and going to the supermarket?" I asked, taking a sip of my coffee. Despite the less than stellar service, the coffee was strong and tasted freshly brewed.
"Maybe go to a home store," Simon replied. "I need some kitchen stuff like pots and pans, and also some new sheets and towels. Oh, and a shower curtain."
"Okay," I said slowly, feeling a little discomfited. That seemed like something you would do with a significant other, picking out sheets and kitchenware. It seemed too intimate for two people that were practically strangers, having met just a week ago. Although Simon had never felt like a stranger. Maybe it was because he had been in one of my visions. But I couldn't imagine a world in which Simon didn't exist, knowing intellectually that this world had existed just a week ago.
I took another sip of coffee to clear my errant thoughts. "There's a home store not far from the supermarket that we can stop by," I said with more confidence.
"Great." Simon folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. "I really appreciate you helping me with this. It's much more enjoyable than doing it on my own."
His blue eyes were looking at me intently and I felt my breath catch. I knew Simon was my age but he seemed so much older sometimes. I'm not sure if it was because of the feelings he awakened in me, but I knew that if I ever let myself get swept away by him I was in big trouble.
So I stupidly blurted out, "I'm sure you could've found someone else to go with you. Samantha would have probably been more than happy to help you." I instantly regretted my words. It made me sound jealous, which was the last thing I wanted Simon to think.
Simon narrowed his eyes as he gazed at me. I couldn't read his expression. "I guess the real question is, who did I want to help me? And fortunately I'm not afraid to ask for what I want. So here you are."
I gulped. And then forced a laugh. "I agree. I make a much better friend than Samantha. I won't try to take advantage of you," I joked.
Simon paused and then gave a slow smile that made my insides turn to jelly. "Too bad."
Dangerous territory, I lectured myself. Avert, avert!
"So," I said, taking a deep breath. "How's Maxwell comparing to Yale so far? How are your classes?"
Simon didn't answer right away as he just looked at me. Then he took a sip of coffee. "It's great," he replied. "I liked Yale, but I just wasn't interested in studying law. I like my classes here so far. And the professors seem pretty cool. It's nice to actually have classes that I look forward to, rather than having to sleep through an Ethics class."
Crystal returned to our table, balancing four plates expertly. She slid the Eggs Benedict in front of me, and the three other plates in front of Simon. The eggs, bacon, sausage and potatoes were heaped on one plate, and the pancakes and toast were on two separate plates respectively.
"Enjoy," Crystal said shortly. She seemed to be transitioning from spurned love interest back to bored server.
"Wow," I intoned, looking at the spread before Simon. "What are the ethics of me letting you eat all that? What if you keel over on stage tonight?"
"Don't worry," Simon said. He reached over and slid the ketchup bottle that was already on the table closer to me. He then started digging into his food. "You're not culpable. Besides, I've got a stomach of steel. One time when we were kids, Grant and I drank a half gallon of chocolate milk, not realizing that it had gone bad. Grant was sick as a dog all night but I was perfectly fine."
I laughed as I took the ketchup bottle and covered the home fries that had come with my breakfast with it. I tried not to think about Simon's automatic gesture, obviously remembering how much I liked ketchup, as I tucked into my food as well. "It sounds like you and Grant were really close growing up," I said.
"Yeah, since we lived so close to each other and were the same age," Simon shared, slathering butter on some toast. "Even though we went to different schools, we spent most weekends and summers together."
"How did you like growing up in Connecticut?" I asked, comfortable now that the subject wasn't about me. I always felt much more at ease when I wasn't the focal point of a conversation.
Simon shrugged. "It was good. Nothing too earth shattering. It was the regular suburban upbringing."
From what I had heard from Grant, Simon's life was a little more than the usual suburban life. Simon's father was head of a shipping conglomerate and the Crewe family lived a life of luxury. The shipping company had been a family business but apparently Simon's father had grown it from a small domestic operation to a global outfit. Grant's mother held shares in the company, but Simon's father had the majority stakehold.
But I knew that money didn't solve everything and that Simon had a somewhat difficult relationship with his father. Even so, money helped solve a lot of other problems. All it took to realize that was to not have enough of it.
"What about you?" Simon asked. "You talked a little about your family the other night at the East End, but not much."
I shrugged, slowly chewing through a bite of food as I thought about how much I wanted to share. "My life is pretty boring. Philly isn't a very exciting town. Except if you like cheesesteaks. Then it's the place to be." I had a habit of trying to divert the conversation from myself with lame jokes.
"Are you and your dad close?" Simon asked, pausing with a forkful of food midway to his mouth.
I hesitated. "We get along okay," I said simply. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about my
