R(oger) (deadiseasy) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-03-15 12:41:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !complete, r, tiffany maxwell |
Who: Tiffany and R.
Where: A coffee shop in Anaheim.
What: A date, more or less.
When: Backdated to last week.
Rating: Low.
Status: Complete.
Roger wasn’t quite sure what he was doing. Somehow he’d ended up with a date, which was fine - more than fine - but it took him by surprise. He dressed in an outfit that he hoped looked good, but was casual enough for coffee followed by possibly drinks. He told himself not to hunch, and not to shrug so much, and to remember not to be all around awkward. After all, he was in his mid-twenties nearly. He ought to be able to meet girls for coffee. So he headed off toward the aforementioned cafe in Anaheim, found a table, and sat down to wait. It was rude, after all, to order before she got there.
Tiffany wasn’t an awkward person. At least, not in the same way. She wasn’t self-conscious, she didn’t worry about how she came off. She said and did what she wanted to say and do, which was why she had been the one to tell Roger to ask her out. It wasn’t the first time she’d told a boy to do that and it likely wouldn’t be the last.
Unless things with Roger were magical and they turned out to be soulmates or some shit like that. Like most girls approaching thirty, she was hoping Mr. Right wasn’t so far away. But today, all she expected was to have a little fun, provided Roger didn’t turn out to be better suited to her bitchy, entitled older sister.
She entered the coffee shop with her hair pulled back, wearing black jeans and a somewhat short black t-shirt that showed off just enough boob and stomach to be sexy without being trashy.
When he saw her, Roger waved her over.
"Hi," he said, hoping he was coming off as relaxed or maybe nonchalant. "I'm Roger. It's, uh, nice to meet you face to face. Finally."
Tiffany walked to the table. Her first impression of Roger: cute but skinny. It wasn’t a bad thing, but she did tend to go for more muscley guys. “You didn’t get anything to drink yet?”
“No. I figured I’d wait. Manners and all.” She was just as intimidating in person as she’d been on the net, Roger thought, and that made his nerves all jumbled again. “What do you want? I’ll get it for you.”
That was fine by her. She took a seat at the table and watched him get up. At least the guy was tall. That just about made up for the lanky arms. “Actually, I’d like tea. With nothing in it.”
“All right. Just a black tea, then?” Because knowing his luck, he’d end up guessing and getting it all wrong. Better to get all the specifics first, so as to better avoid any messy situations later.
“Uh, yeah. Black.” He was a little eager to please. Tiffany killed time while she waited by checking her text messages. There was one from her sister. She deleted the icon without reading it.
Roger nodded and headed off to order their drinks. A coffee for him, a black tea for her, and then he returned to their table.
“So,” he asked, sitting down with a half smile, “do you make a habit of this? Coercing unsuspecting guys into dates?”
Tiffany laid her phone flat on the table. It was an Andriod and not the latest model by any means. “All the time,” she said, accepting the tea. “But not on the internet. I did consider pasting bolts to my neck.”
Roger had to laugh at that. “I think that would have thrown me off. I’m glad you didn’t.” Really, really glad. He would have stared, it would have been weird.
She laughed. "Why? You'd be embarrassed you didn't dress like a zombie?"
“Hey, now,” he said, laughing again, “to be completely fair? My zombie self dresses way better than I do. It would have been an improvement, actually.”
Tiffany took a light sip of her tea and shrugged. The way he was dressed now was something she liked. “I’m not into pretty boys,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “A guy who can put together a better outfit than I can... not so much.”
“Then you’re in luck, because I can’t. I mean, I can’t. I have two suits for work, and that’s pretty much the extent. I keep the shirts with them because I’ll never find something to replace them.” Roger just shrugged, too. By now he was used to his shortcomings. Although in this situation, it seemed to be more of a pro than a con.
“Oh, where do you work?” she asked. She wanted to learn more about him. She was starting to warm up to his awkwardness. He’d definitely delivered on the promise to be awkward.
"Uh. Currently? Nowhere." He hid the embarrassment behind a long sip of coffee. "Not by choice. I mean, I studied business, and I was a temp up in Seattle but they had to make cutbacks. Temps are always the first to go. So, you know, I came back home."
Tiffany shrugged. She didn't see a reason to be embarrassed. "Same thing's happening to everyone. I'm working as an administrative assistant right now. My soul is slowly dying."
“It’s a good stepping stone, a job like that. I’d love a job like that, right now.” He snerked a little. “I think I’m just going to find whatever I can get and go back to school for my graduate degree. Because, in theory, you know, that will help one land a lucrative career.” Roger quirked up the corner of his lips in a half smile, suggesting that he didn’t believe that at all, and it was too bad the masses did.
“I never went to college,” Tiffany said bluntly. Her gaze was pointed.
Roger looked at her, uncertain if he maybe offended her or not. He couldn’t have, he was certain. Loads of people went to school, and loads more didn’t. Still, he couldn’t help but feel mildly worried about it.
“Honestly? Sometimes I think it was a big waste of time and money. So, you know.” A shrug.
The thing about Tiffany was that she genuinely liked making people nervous. Occasionally, it annoyed her when she succeeded. But Roger hadn't gotten too apologetic, so that was good. She laughed. "I was joking. I really couldn't care less.”
Oh, phew. His shoulders visibly relaxed. “Well, I wasn’t. Not really. I mean, four years of my life and then some later, and look where it’s gotten me. Having dreams about being a zombie and collecting records.”
“Collecting records?” Tiffany repeated. “You dream you’re a zombie audiophile or is that something you do while you’re awake, too?” She took a larger drink from her tea, leaving behind a dark lipstick stain on the rim.
“It’s something I do. Who knows if dream-me does. That’d be weird, wouldn’t it. Do zombies listen to records?” Roger shrugged, then snorted, shaking his head in amusement. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“What kind of music do you like?” Tiffany asked. Her dark eyes turned a bit more serious, suggesting this was a question that really mattered. Or maybe she just wanted to see if she could get Roger to squirm.
“All sorts. Older stuff, mostly. New music kind of freaks me out?” All he could do was sort of grin at his predicament. “I mean. It’s all fake, mostly. Autotune. But I love, you know, The Beatles. Everyone does. Bob Dylan. The Eagles. Really good classic rock.” Roger paused, looking at the seriousness on her face. “What sort of music do you like?”
“Dylan is cool,” Tiffany replied. Actually, she liked all his choices. “What about the Kinks? Do you like them? As far as modern stuff goes... I like the Shins. I like Mumford and Sons. Actually, I’ve been really into Tito Puente lately. I’ve been taking these salsa classes, just to keep myself from going insane.” She rolled her eyes. “I dunno. It’s stupid.”
“Salsa classes? That sounds cool, actually. I don’t have any dance ability anywhere in me, but it sounds fun.” He took a long drink of coffee. “Does it work? I mean. Do you feel like you’re not going insane?”
"Pft, I already am insane." She drank some more tea. It was like taking a pause. "Anyone can dance you just have keep doing it until you don't suck--"
Her phone rang then. Tiffany's went very wide, then she glared intensely, like she really hated the phone.
"Arrgg!" She clawed the air with her dark black nails. "Hold on. I have to take this... probably in the ass."
Roger blinked, feeling momentarily and honestly terrified. Then he just nodded at her to take her time as he sat back, drinking his coffee and glancing around.
The person on the other line happened to be Tiffany's sister. Ronnie. Saint Veronica. Sometimes Tiffany got the impression that Ronnie thought she had been the one to mop Jesus's face.
They were VERY different people.
"Hey Ronnie. What? ... Wait what? ... Tonight? Are you serious? ... Shit. Seriously? ... Crap."
Roger did a good job of not eavesdropping. What he heard was just due their nearness, and it didn't sound all that great. He figured it cut their date - or whatever this was - short. Oh well, he thought, there'd be other days.
By the time Tiffany pulled her phone from her ear, she looked as if she wanted to tear the thing apart. She closed her eyes for a moment. With a sigh, her shoulders dropped. “So... apparently my sister is throwing her boyfriend a party... tonight. He graduated from law school... or medical school or something... and I need to be there or I’ll basically never be forgiven for it.”
She shook her head and glared off to the side. Her relationship with Veronica was more of a never ending battle at this point in their lives. She’d hoped things would get better as they became adults, but so far no luck.
“Oh.” Roger put on a sympathetic look. Or he hoped it was sympathetic. He’d never had siblings, and sometimes he was glad for it, because he’d never do well at moments like this if he was in Tiffany’s place. But he offered her a smile.
“I’m sorry. Maybe you can find a way to get out of it after you’ve been there a bit.”
Tiffany nodded, but she didn’t exactly look hopeful. “Maybe.” She blinked and appeared to be thinking. She was considering the feasibility of inviting Roger as her last minute date. Then they could at least get that drink she’d promised if the coffee when well. Things had just found a good rhythm when Veronica interrupted.
But Roger probably deserved better than to meet all her family at once. Not even Tiffany could do that to a guy on the first date.
“Can I have a raincheck on the drink?” she asked, pushing back her chair and standing. For the first time, she looked nothing but sincere.
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Roger stood, too. It seemed the polite thing to do, and he really didn’t want her to think that he was pushing her off or something. “Just, you know, get a hold of me whenever. And good luck tonight. I’ll be rooting for you.”
Tiffany sighed. “Thanks...”
She kissed Roger’s cheek on the way out. Mostly because it seemed the polite thing to do. And partly because... well, just because.