Ms. Independent

Chapter One: Joshua

Chapter One: Joshua

My eyes lock with his green ones, my shirt dripping in coffee, and the first thing that comes to my head, the very first thing that leaves my mouth is, "Fuck, thank God I'm wearing underwear today."
I blink.
He blinks.
I panic.
How stupid am I? Why the hell would I comment about my underwear?
"So, like, is no underwear a normal occurrence, or-"
"That is not your business." I say, laughing comfortably. "I mean-wow!"
"You were the one who brought it up."
"Well, well you were the one who looked!"
"Well it was kinda hard to miss." He mumbles.
I scoff and turn to walk away.
"Wait, wait," he gently puts his hand on my forearm. "I'm sorry, don't go. That was rude. I'm sorry. I've had a bad day, I'm really sorry."
And maybe it's those green eyes, or the stupid genuine apologetic look on his face, but I give in.
"It's fine. Listen, I have to go-"
"Wait, you can't go like that." He gestures to my coffee-covered-shirt. "Where are you going? Work? You work the night shift?"
"The night shift?" I repeat.
"Yeah, you just came out of Starbucks-"
"I don't work at Starbucks."
"Oh, okay, well-"
"Listen, this is pointless-"
"Come on, just let me get you a new shirt."
"I don't need a new shirt-"
"Considering I can see your lace beige bra, I beg to differ..." he starts rubbing the back of his neck. I glare at him.
"You're a pervert. I bet you touch teenagers in your free time."
"I'm not a pervert." He says, looking a little irritated. "But that guy-" he points to somebody watching us argue. The man has a big bottle of vodka in his hand, his clothes are dirty, and he hasn't shaved.
It's clear he's homeless.
"He is most likely a pervert." He lowers his voice and I eye the guy for a moment longer and then turn to the dude in front of me.
"Fine, you can come with me to the store to make sure nobody tries to touch me, but I'll pay for my own shit, thank you very much."
"You have a nasty mouth for such a small woman."
"Yeah, well, I'm from the streets." I grumble. I hoist my purse further up on my shoulder and march off, my heels clicking with authority on the sidewalk.
"Somehow, I find that hard to believe." He says behind me. He nudges somebody out of the way to walk beside me, and it pisses me off how much taller he is than me.
I don't like it when people are taller than me. It makes me feel weak.
I march into the nearest Target and he follows behind me.
"So what's your name anyways?" He asks.
"That is my personal private information-"
"Oh for fucks sake, your first, middle, and last time is not-" he pauses and raises his voice in an attempt to mimick me, "Personal private information." He puts air quotes around his words and I glare at him, grabbing a white t-shirt off the rack. My skirt is pretty much fucked too, and I feel my bra dripping down my stomach, so I grab a pair of jeans in my size and a bra, and then I walk up to the counter with him behind me.
The woman gives me a look of sympathy and puts the clothes in a bag.
"It's going to be fifty three forty six."
I dig through my purse for my wallet, and just as I pull it out and open it, I hear the receipt printing.
My head snaps up as the woman hands the receipt to the coffee guy.
"Are you fucking-"
The guy grabs my arm and my bag of clothes and pulls me away from the lady.
"Please wait to be unladylike until we're away from strangers." He says.
"You-" I jab his chest. "You are a stranger!"
"I'm less of a stranger than she is. I'm seen more of your body than the average stranger-"
I have the strong urge to slap him across the face.
I snatch the bag of clothes from his hand and storm off to the bathroom.
I hear him following me.
"Well? Aren't you going to thank me for paying?"
"No, abso-fucking-lutely not. I will be paying you back."
At that, I walk into the bathroom.
When I reach the mirror in the big stall, almost combust at the sight of me.
My makeup is smeared from the coffee, the ends of my hair are stale from the coffee, and I reek.
I strip down into nothing but my underwear and use a combination of hand soap, toilet paper, makeup remover wipes, water, and some lotion I have in my purse to clean myself up. I dress in the white t-shirt, the light ripped skinny jeans, and the beige bra I got.
I wipe down my heels and then put my clothes in the bag, wash my hands, and force myself out of the bathroom.
The green eyed monster is leaning against the wall on his cell phone and he looks up when I walk out, back at his phone, and then back at me.
"I didn't recognize you." He says.
"Thanks." I grumble.
"Well listen, sorry for slamming into you and shit, but I've gotta run-"
"Oh hell no." I whip around. "I don't like owing people anything, and I owe you fifty four dollars. You're not leaving until I've paid you every penny, starting with the coffee you just used to marinate me."
He sighs.
"Fine. And for the record, my name is Josh."
With that, he walks out of the store.
I follow him, glaring at his back as I do so.
After a minute, I rush past him in my heels, walking down the stairs to the subway.
I can hear him following me as I pay for both of us and get on.
He follows me to the train and gets on behind me.
I we take it across the city to Queens and I get off.
He follows closely behind me as I take the stairs up into the city.
Near this stop, there is a coffee shop that I used to come to with my cousins.
I walk in the door and he follows me.
"What do you want?" I ask.
"Water." He says.
Water. Of course he wants water.
When it's my turn in line, I walk up to the counter.
"I would like to buy every this." I set a cup on the counter. The cup is twenty dollars. "I also would like four extra large waters for the price of an extra large coffee."
She looks confused.
"What?"
"I owe somebody money." I say simply."Actually, can you make it two of those? Or do you have a gallon jug of water?"
"We have a gallon jug." She nods.
"Alright, gets just take three of those, and then two of the cups."
She starts ringing everything in.
"That's fifty one dollars.
I rub my eyebrow.
"Okay, another jug of water."
She nods and adds it.
"Fifty five, sixty seven."
"Excellent."
I stuff my debit card in the chip machine.
"It declined." She says.
"Whoops." I reply.
I pull out another one and stuff it in, and that one declines too, so I put my credit card in.
It goes through and the guy, Josh, is looking annoyed with me.
"If you want to sit down we'll bring your jugs to you." She says.
"Thank you." I say.
I take the two cups off the counter and walk over to a seat.
He sits down across from me and stuffs his phone in his pocket, folding his arms across his chest.
"Here." I set them in front of him.
"I don't want them."
"Will you please just take them? I don't like owing people money, alright?"
He sighs.
"Fine."
He pulls the cups to his side of the table.
We fall into an awkward silence and finally, he clears his throat and gets up, walking over to the coffee table in the shop. He grabs a handful of magazines and comes back to our table, setting them down. He starts rifling through them, passing a lot of the ones that I hate. He looks irritated and he takes the ones he brought over here back, digs through the one's he hasn't looked at yet until he settles on one.
He walks back over to the table.
"You read?" I ask when he sits down.
"Don't start making fun of me." He says. "I read, alright? It makes you smarter."
"I wasn't going to make fun of you." I say, eying his magazine.
Perfectly You is scrawled across the cover with a picture of Adele on the front. That is last week's edition.
"I think this one is old." He starts to get up.
"It's not." I say.
His eyes narrow.
"How do you know?"
I pause.
"I subscribed to it." I lie smoothly.
He starts flipping through it and I'm itching to leave.
I start reaching for my bags when he speaks.
"You know, this is like the only magazine that actually shows the overweight singers and actresses full bodies. Did you know that?" His eyes raise from my magazine to my face.
I open my mouth to reply and then close it.
"Uh, no, I never realized." I lie again.
Why the hell am I lying?
I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans.
"Well it's true." He says. "If you don't believe me, look it up."
"I believe you." I say.
I don't need him googling information about the magazine, because that will lead him directly to me.
A worker brings the jugs of water and I thank the man. Josh doesn't move, still reading my magazine.
"Katherine." I say.
His eyes lift from the magazine.
"Katherine." I repeat. "My name is Katherine."
He cocks an eyebrow.
And then he looks interested.
He shuts his magazine and leans slightly closer.
"So what is it about you, huh? You said you're from the street, but I don't believe that. A girl like you? Yeah right?"
"What's that supposed to me?" I sigh.
"It doesn't mean anything bad, I just-" he sighs. "You look too...right, to be on the streets. I don't know how else to describe it. Is it true?"
And maybe it's his eyes, but I don't want him to know.
"Yeah, I was kidding." He mutter.
He doesn't need to know.
Nobody needs to know.
The only person that knows the truth that i see daily is Ryan, and Ryan would never expose me like that.
"I figured." He says.
We fall silent again, and then he sighs.
"So?"
"What?" I ask.
"Where do you work? Who are you?"
I clasp my hands together.
"Why?"
"I'm a curious person and I like information."
I drum my fingers on the tabletop.
"I'm a waitress." I shrug. "I'm from Utah."
"Where in Utah?"
"Salt Lake City."
He nods.
"Close with your family?"
"Yes."
Lie after lie! What the fuck is wrong with me!
"Siblings?"
"Brother and sister."
"Older or younger?"
"Younger." I say.
"Age?"
"Twenty two and nineteen-"
"Not theirs. Yours."
"Oh." I hesitate. "Twenty six."
"Boyfriend?"
"Why-"
"It's a casual question, Katherine." He says calmly.
So I tell him.
"I've been single since I was twenty two."
Now that makes his eyebrows raise.
"You're not dating? Why?"
"It's a long story."
"Well." He looks at his watch. "Time basically never stops, so we have, what, forever, right?"
I shake my head.
"Enough about me, what about you, Mr. Coffee Spiller?"
"What about me?"
"Where do you work?"
"I'm a realtor."
"Successful?"
"I don't know. Yes?"
"Everyone knows if they're successful. It's not a crime to brag about yourself, as long as it doesn't make you conceded."
"Fine. Yes. Successful."
I nod.
"Where are you from?"
"Illinois." He says.
"Where?"
"Aurora." He says. "It's about an hour outside of Chicago."
"Girlfriend?" I cock an eyebrows at him and he smirks.
"Why? Are you ready to start dating?"
I scowl.
"You're a cocky one, aren't you? I'm just asking you the questions you asked me."
"Actually, I asked you if you had a boyfriend, and I don't have one. I'm straight."
"Luckily for me, I didn't ask." I say.
He chuckles under his breath and shakes his head.
"No, no girlfriend."
"Hmm." I say, smiling mockingly. "And why not?"
He shrugs one shoulder.
"My family hated my fiancè. They didn't trust her, for whatever reason, and she cheated on me, so I left her."
I sit back.
"How long ago?"
"Uh, two years." He nods. "I haven't dated anybody since."
"Age?"
"I'm twenty eight."
"Siblings?"
"One sister, she's eighteen."
He sits back, eying me.
"Friends?"
The mention of my friends makes me look down.
"Uh, that's a little complicated."
He leans forward.
"Why is it complicated?"
"Because he's just...my best friend, we got into a fight at work..." I shake my head.
"So fucking text him. Why did you fight? Oh god, he didn't pull the card, did he?"
"The card?" I repeat. "What card?"
"The, 'I'm your best friend but actually I'm in love with you' card."
"Oh." I say. "No, Ryan?" I laugh. "Ryan is the biggest faggot ever."
"Wow, you're so rude." He shakes his head but there's a hint of a smile on his lips.
"Alright, so I phrased it wrong but Ryan is a very open, very happy gay man."
"Okay, so why did you fight? Maybe I can help?"
I shake my head.
"Again, that's too long. I don't want to get into that."
"There seems to be a lot that you don't want to get into." He states simply.
I just sigh.
"I'm a complex person." I shrug.
"Well what makes you complex?" He asks.
I really don't want to talk about myself, so I ignore his question and ask one of my own.
"What about you? Friends?"
He notices, obviously, that I'm dodging my question, but he doesn't say anything about it, he just nods.
"One. Austin. We've been friends since college."
I nod slowly.
"Did you go to college?"
I visibly wince at the thought of my drug using college days, but I nod anyways.
"Yes."
"To study?"
"Business administration and entrepreneurship." I say.
"If you studied that, why are you a waitress?"
I open my mouth to ask him what would make him think that I'm a waitress, and then I realize he thinks that because that's what I told him.
"I couldn't find a job making money. I had to start with an internship and I can't do that while working, but I can't not work, so..." I trail off.
He nods slowly, drumming his fingertips on the table.
"Music?"
"I like a lot of music. Anything with a good beat and a meaning."
"You like oldies?"
"Yes."
And I know I should go home to pack, and I hate that I still smell like coffee, but those curious green eyes keep my ass in my seat.

______

:)
~Sam