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“Which phone is it, personal or business? Or maybe one of the other half-dozen on your belt, Phone Man?” Mel teased.
Jason gave him a firm look and blurted, “I’ll meet you outside at a table.”
Without another word to Mel, he walked out, already deep in conversation.
Mel stood off to the side as others grabbed their orders, his orange juice already in hand. Glancing around the small café, he found it charming. He preferred things a little dated or a little off. It gave them a personality, instead of the cold, modern flair many flocked to in the newer condos and apartments.
Focusing on people-watching, he tried to identify the tourists from the locals in the café. Now that he was officially a local, maybe he could pick up on the local tells and use them himself as a measurement of his acclimation.
From the corner of his eye, a flash caught his attention. He tracked it to a crystal catching light through the window as a young woman spun it over a small pouch at the side of her table. The flashes from the crystal stopped, drawing his attention fully to the woman who was now glaring at him. He was staring again.
Cheeks flushed warm from blush, he shot his gaze to the counter where people picked up their orders, silently willing his order to be ready. In his experience, staring was not the best way to make new friends in a new city. Glancing back carefully; the woman took a breath, as if in relief, and went back to her business. Something told him she wasn’t a tourist and God forbid he would meet her again after this.
He cleared his throat, deciding he would at least try to salvage what he could of the horrible first impression.
Nearing her table he noted the single cup filled more with creamer than coffee, the open journal, and a few books spread out.Ghost Sightings, How to Be a Medium,andPsychic Giftswere only a few of the titles he could see. Clear, neat handwriting covered the pages of the journal in front of her, and she quickly shifted it away from his line of sight as he settled next to her. Despite her apparent want for him to not read anything, she didn’t close the book or even cover it.
“Can I help you?” She didn’t shift her eyes from the page.
It was a simple question, but the tone shared no offer of actual help.
“Sorry for staring. I was just wondering if it was quartz?” Mel pointed to the clear crystal now under her opposite palm.
“Good guess.”
Her eyes never left the page. A large, orange blouse hung off one shoulder and messy brown hair was gathered over the same shoulder with a hair clip. The bottoms of her regular blue jeans were rolled up, a DIY version of highwaters, revealing a pair of well-loved tennis shoes. She didn’t have the look of someone into the supernatural, ghost hunting, or trying to be the next famous psychic. No dark or heavy makeup— no makeup at all. Her jewelry was only a simple pair of earrings, a single thumb ring, and a crystal necklace. She was a pretty young woman in her own average-looking way, but sad. Not sad looking, just sad.
Lonely maybe?
“Look, I’m not about the whole staring thing,” she mentioned after he went silent as if to prompt him to step away.
“I apologize. I’m a visual person. I absorb information by sight. Observation,” he explained in a fluster. His words were not as put together as he would have liked. With her personal bubble very apparent, he would usually have had no problem walking away but there was something that kept him in place. “You just seemed... lonely?”
She tapped her pen on the paper. “There’s a reason. I want to be alone.”
“Don’t mean to butt in.” He slid easily into the empty chair on her right. “...But you’re in a beautiful park in one of the most extraordinary places in the world. Cheer up, girly. You’re still breathing.”
She tilted away from him, her eyes bugged out in surprise. Her features melted back to subtle annoyance as she leaned into his space. Retreating a few inches, he noticed a hint of a smirk twitching at the corner of her lips. The small smirk made something in his gut flip. “Well, youarebutting in. You don’t know me and you wouldn’t understand.”
If that wasn’t a challenge, Mel didn’t know what was.
“Don’t know for sure if you don’t try me.” He made a show of setting his chin in his palm, his full attention on her.
The woman leaned back into her chair, and closed the journal, letting out a long breath from between her teeth. She shut her eyes for a moment before she faced him. When they opened and focused on Mel, a flash of gold surprised him.
“You wanna take a shot?” she challenged; eyes narrowed at him. “I see ghosts. You know, departed souls? One of them chased me this morning and I’m pretty sure he was trying to take over my body because he fucked up his life so badly he drowned at the end. He’s gone now and I’m trying to shove the entire experience to the back of my mind with bitter-tasting caffeine and research so it won’t happen again. You understand me now?”
Mel mentally applauded the woman; silence didn’t happen often with him.
Blinking a few times, he waited for his brain to catch up while watching the gold in her eyes fade into a rich hazel.
“Well, you win,” he conceded.
Mel heard his order number called and went to the window to grab it, giving the woman her much-needed space. He took his time before making a beeline back to her table where he placed a small plate with a set of three fresh beignets covered in powdered sugar piled at its center.
Frowning at the offering, she looked up at him, an unspoken question written on her face.
He grinned, nodding at the sugary treat. “You need it more than I do. Try to have a better, ghost-free day, huh?”
