Someone Else

Chapter 6

"Okay, Mr. Anderson, now let me guess, when you were in acting school, you were taught how to make small observations and draw conclusions to know how to respond in different roles. And, naturally, as an actor, your memory is a steel trap."

"Please don't call me that. I actually hate that. I deserve no more to be called upon formally than anyone else." I would have thought I offended him if his tone had changed, but he kept it light and casual. He continued, "And, while what you said is true, that's not how I knew what you were going to order." Jude let his smile grow.

"Then please inform me as to how you read my mind."

"My mum always taught me to listen closely when a beautiful woman spoke to me."

Even though a steady heat built in my cheeks, I managed to respond to him without completely losing my composure. "Your mother is a smart woman."

Jude winked at me and put his menu down. Just as I looked up from my own, our waitress came over to take our order.

"Good morning, what could I get you two?" She was awfully chipper, and I wondered if it had something to do with the man sitting across from me. She had looked at Jude first, but he gestured to me.

"I'll have the honey lemon crepes and a coffee, please."

"I'll do the same. Thanks," said Jude.

As the waitress turned around, Jude leaned into the table and looked me square in the eyes. "I've ordered those crepes at least a dozen times before. You're going to love them." As he sat back in his seat, he let his lips move back into their sly smile resting place.

While we waited for our food, Jude and I continued our game from Friday night. The more I listened to him, the more I realized we actually had a lot in common despite being from two different countries separated by an ocean and two incredibly different social classes. 

"Wait, let me get this straight. You're British, but you hate tea? Is that even allowed?"

"It's quite frowned upon, and I often had to force it down for my gran's sake, but it's just so bloody disgusting, you know?"

"Oh, absolutely. No amount of sugar could make it bearable for me," I said.

Where we did differ was in how we took our coffees. The waitress placed the piping mugs in front of us, and Jude picked his up and took a swig.

"You're not actually going to drink that black, are you?" I asked.

"Yes...you're not actually going to mask the flavor of the coffee by drowning it in milk and sugar, are you?"

"Yes..."

Jude's facial expression dropped, and he looked at me intently. "Elle, I'm not sure this is going to work. I should probably just get the check now."

I found myself staring back into his dark eyes and looking for a hint that he was joking. Surely the way I took my coffee could not be that offensive. All of a sudden, he burst into laughter.

"Elle, I'm just joking! You were right when you told me you could be a bit on edge."

The tension eased between us, and I felt comfortable enough to relax again in his presence. I could feel my stomach grumbling for food, and I longed for the sweet lemony crepes I'd ordered.

As if the waitress had heard my stomach's pleas for something to eat, our food appeared and was set in front of us. It looked like someone had just plucked the dish out of a magazine. The crepes were folded into neat triangles on the plate, dusted with powdered sugar, and adorned with a sprinkling of fresh raspberries.