Moving Forward

-Nineteen-

Evelyn POV

When I first answered the phone, I didn't know what to do. After the visit to the doctor, I immediately went home and tried to take my mind off of it by finishing the assignments for my online courses. Of course, it took my mind off of the whole ordeal, but her call immediately took me out of the Zone.

I acted as usual as I could and in my hurry, I didn't realize until I was in the parking lot that I didn't bring any red. I was in all white; white blouse, white pants, white shoes that look a little too much like dress shoes. I even forgot my satchel. The day keeps getting worse.

I was the first to get there, so I thought it best to go save the same booth we were in. It's a week day, so there wasn't that many people like before. Of course, except for the workers.

As I walk through the door, I immediately look at the cashier than look away. Does this guy work the closing shift all the time? What, too loud at home? Big family? Or maybe it's first week nerves and he wants to prove he can handle it.

My god Evelyn, stop speculating.

I sit down in the booth, seething at the all-white attire, with nothing to do. No satchel means no sketchbook. I left my phone in the car, the only red thing I can get at this point, but then I look like a fool going out and going back in. What do I do? I don't want to be lost in my thoughts, it'll get far too embarrassing and I don't want to visit that just yet. I can't look around, since then I'll start analyzing people, and as fun as that sometimes is, it seems pretty rude to do that right now to a bunch of people. Okay, um, my hands, what can I do with my hands. Hey, look my thumbs can touch each other when I hold my hands.

"Hey, Evelyn." Like a sudden saxophone, I swear I heard the jazz music in the cafe pick up. Or was it always there? I wasn't really paying attention.

"Good day, Jerry John Quinn." Always best to remember a three named persons full name. Never know when you might need it.

"Are you alone?"

"Currently, yes. In the near future, no."

"Mind if I sit-in?"

Would I rather spend my time alone with Mister Three-Names, or would I do the same thing with my hands? This is a tough call. Then again...

"Sure."

Jerry John Quinn sits opposite to me in the booth. Nice of him to give a person space.

"So, did you not have anything to do during your break?"

"Well..." he looks like he's thinking through it. "I didn't get to fully apologize for earlier today. And if I'm friends with Sarah, it would be best to also be friends with you."

I want to be mean. I want to be snarky and say some smart-alec response back.

But frankly, I don't feel that way right now. I need some red.

Maybe it was the long pause it took for me to response or something in the face I made, but I felt the jazz music go sober. Mr. Cool guy looks concerned, for me or at me, same difference, and offered this elaborate and very odd hair tie to pull my hair back. I couldn't help noticing, it was red.

I take it and quickly put my hair in a bun. Neat or messy, I don't care. It just needs to show the red.

"Thank you." I'm ashamed of my voice cracking at the you.

"No problem."

I look at him and I realize I would want to be his friend, too. He didn't ask, he acted in the way he could. People asked too much with me but never acted. Until Sarah, and now, Quinn.

"You can stay." I look a bit over his shoulder. "And I see the much nicer and better looking Misses Umbridge coming over."