Seeing Shadows (8 page)

"I can come help you organize," Simon said, with a mischievous smile. "I'm a genius when it comes to organizing. Right, Grant?" He looked over at Grant for his support.

Grant had been watching our exchange with an amused look. "Yup. He's like the Einstein of organizing."

I gulped, not sure how to refuse Simon's weird offer of help without seeming churlish, but also knowing there was no way in hell I was spending any time with him in my bedroom. Never mind the fact that the minute he stepped into my room, it would become pretty apparent that no organizing was needed. I kept my room spic and span, a habit from my father's OCD tendencies.

"On the other hand, it probably won't take too long," I said with a forced laugh, knowing this conversation was ridiculous.
Friends,
I thought to myself.
I can do this.
"What time do you want us over? I can probably make it."

"How about six?" Grant asked.

I ignored Grant's faint amusement at my sudden change of heart and said, "Sure, sure. I'll let the girls know. I've gotta get back to my other tables."

I rushed off without looking at Simon, not wanting to feel any more idiotic than I already did. I mentally berated myself as I checked on my tables and greeted two new groups of customers.
Organizing my room?
I groaned internally.
Really? That's the best I could come up with?

I watched Grant and Simon's table from the corner of my eye, refilling their coffee cups when needed but rushing off before they could say more than thanks. When I saw them finishing up, I stopped by again and dropped their check off. "Here you go."

Grant and Simon both grabbed the bill, each pulling in their respective direction. Grant finally was able to finagle the bill from Simon. "You paid for the beers yesterday, man."

"I'll go get your change," I told Grant, as he fumbled in his wallet and laid some bills on top of the table. "You don't have to take it to the register since Colette's not here this morning."

Colette usually manned the register at the counter, and also sometimes seated customers when the servers were too busy, but she was absent this morning due to a doctor's appointment.

"Nah, I'm good. I gotta give my waitress a big tip," Grant said, smiling.

I laughed. "I'm sure she appreciates it." I glanced at Simon and then quickly looked back at Grant.
"I'll see you guys later. I'll try and whip up some dessert for tonight." I worked until two in the afternoon so that gave me plenty of time before the barbecue.

"Garbage cookies?" Simon asked, smiling. His face was too damn gorgeous when he smiled.

"No," I said, with a light laugh. "I don't have all the ingredients for it." Which was a lie, because the point of garbage cookies was to put in anything you had. For some reason, the insistence of the garbage cookies felt a little too personal, like Simon already had inside jokes with me. "I'll think of something."

Fortunately, a customer at another table raised her hand to get my attention and I nodded at the customer, letting her know I'd be right over. "Well, see you later."

With that, I rushed off to see what the customer needed, not looking in Simon's direction.

As I put the order in for extra toast that the customer requested, I saw Grant and Simon leave with a wave and I waved back. I noticed that they stood outside the cafe after they left, since the front was all windows and they seemed to be discussing something. Grant laughed and patted Simon on the back, and Simon glanced inside, looking at me with an intensity that made my insides tighten. I waved again weakly, not knowing what else to do and then turned away, grabbing a coffee pot like it was a lifesaver.

**********

The rest of my shift at Colette's was a blur of pancakes, omelets and toast. Afterwards I trudged home, reliving my earlier moments with Simon with embarrassment.

One of the advantages of Maxwell University was the close proximity of everything. Colette's was a short walk from my apartment, which was convenient because I didn't have a car. Sarah had a car she let me freely use, and told me to consider it mine as well, but I tried not to take advantage of it. Even though I knew that Sarah gave with no reservations and with love, I sometimes had a hard time taking. She often had to urge me to use her car when I needed it because she knew I didn't want to feel like a burden. I had already invaded Sarah's life too much, going home with her for the holidays and spending a lot of time with her family. I wanted to limit it in other areas as much as possible.

Even though the afternoon was cold, the sun was out and made the walk almost pleasant. When I reached the apartment, I refused to wonder whether Simon was home and ran up the stairs, quickly unlocking the apartment door before I was tempted to linger outside.

"Hi Caitlin," I heard Sarah call out from her bedroom. "Get in here."

I walked over to Sarah's room and found her digging around her closet. "Have you finally decided to clean your room?" I asked, amused. Unlike my room, Sarah's bedroom was in dire need of organization but her philosophy was why clean it if it was going to get messy again? It was in direct contrast to my philosophy of always maintaining order so it never got to the point of being messy. I controlled whatever aspects of my life I could, since I felt so out of control in others.

"Why would I want to do that?" Sarah huffed. "I know where everything is." She straightened and blew a piece of hair out of her face. "Grant stopped by and told me about the barbecue. I called Jenny and let her know about it." She sighed as she surveyed her closet. "I'm looking for my pink top but I can't find it anywhere."

I leaned over and looked at the floor on the side of the bed opposite her closet. "You mean the one right there?" I asked, pointing to a piece of pink fabric peeking out from underneath the bed.

Sarah ran over and snatched up the shirt. "You're a lifesaver, Caitlin!" she exclaimed. She held up the shirt in front of her and frowned. "Except it's all wrinkled."

I laughed as I walked out of her room and into mine. Our bedroom doors were right across from each other so she was still within earshot as I shrugged out of my coat and hung it up. "There's a thing called an iron for that," I informed her. "I'll teach you how to use it if you want."

"Very funny," Sarah said, popping her head into my doorway and sticking out her tongue. Her face then brightened. "Maybe I'll just hang it in the bathroom while I take a shower and the wrinkles will steam out." She walked into the bathroom, happy with any solution that would prevent her from doing anything resembling housework. She popped back into my room after hanging her shirt on the shower rod.

"So, I think Simon is smitten with you," she said, grinning. "He couldn't take his eyes off of you last night. Even after you left, he kept asking questions about you."

I feel a slither of unease at this. "What did he ask? What did you say?" I asked, alarmed at what might have been discussed.

"Relax," Sarah reassured me, "It was just ordinary stuff, like where you were from, how we all become friends. What your major was. Things like that."

"Sarah," I warned. "I can see the wheels in your brain turning. Don't try any of your matchmaking tactics. You know the last thing I want is to start dating someone, let alone someone who's now a part of our group. Do you know how awkward it would be if we started seeing each other and it didn't work out, but we still had to hang out together all the time?"

"But he's so cute!" Sarah protested. "And he's really into you. I can tell."

I put my hand up to stop her from saying anything more. "Sarah," I pleaded. "Please just let it go. It's just going to make me uncomfortable. I can't handle anything like that right now."

Sarah's face suddenly became serious. "Why? Is something wrong? Are you having visions again?"

I shook my head in denial. "No, no. Nothing like that. But it's our last year. I just want to enjoy it with my friends without any pressure." I felt bad lying to Sarah, the one person who I was usually honest with, but I was hoping that no more visions were in my future.

"Oh, alright," sighed Sarah in defeat. "But I can't do anything about Simon trying to sweep you off your feet." With that, she winked and ducked back into the bathroom. I could hear her start the shower.

I shook my head as I changed out of my work clothes. I loved Sarah but she could be doggedly persistent once she got an idea in her head. I changed into yoga pants and a t-shirt, planning on changing into an outfit for tonight later on after a shower. Even though it was freezing outside, the heat in our building worked overtime, even at the lowest setting, so we were often wearing summer clothes indoors in the dead of winter. Pulling my long black hair into a ponytail, I walked to the kitchen and opened the cupboards, surveying the ingredients and wondering what to make for dessert.

I settled on a coconut custard pie, a dessert that was easy to throw together and one that we had all the ingredients for. As I lost myself in the soothing rhythm of baking, I thought about my reaction to Simon. It wasn't as if I hadn't been attracted to someone before, but not to the point where I struggled to control my reactions. There was something about Simon besides his good looks, as extraordinary as they were, that drew me to him. Maybe it was the way he looked at me, his eyes seemingly able to pierce my soul.

I shook my head at that fanciful notion. This was real life, not one of those romance books where Fabio graced the cover, bending some buxom long-haired wench over his arm on the moors of some Scottish highland. Whatever that meant.

I explored the idea that maybe it was because I had seen him in one of my visions. But this wasn't the first time an attractive male from my visions had taken an interest in me. Freshman year I had a vision about a cute junior that was in one of my electives, Intro to Psychology. I had taken the course in an attempt to try and understand how my mind worked but I had only ended up learning that everything was about repressed sex and envy, according to Freud.

Jordan had sat next to me and struck up a conversation. After getting over the jolt that he was the boy I had seen in a horrific car accident in my vision, we proceeded to have a perfectly normal classroom friendship. The type of friendship where you talked during class but had separate and non-overlapping lives outside of it. He had asked me out, which I had easily refused and he had taken the rejection with grace. Jordan had definitely been attractive, but I had no problem interacting with him.

Maybe it had just been so long since I had spent time with a male outside of Grant and Marcus that I honed in on the first guy that really caught my eye. I had briefly dated a guy my sophomore year, but after having fun for a couple of months I realized I considered him more of a friend and had ended it. Unfortunately, Dan hadn't felt the same way and it had gotten a little ugly at the end. That was a situation I definitely wanted to avoid. And I definitely wanted to avoid it with Simon. Like it or not, he was now a member of our group. And I didn't want the complications that would come with a failed romance ruining the dynamics of our group of friends.

Shaking off the gloomy thoughts, I slid the pie into the preheated oven and set the timer for forty minutes. I heard the bathroom door open and I walked over to find out the result of the wrinkled shirt experiment.

"Well, did it work?" I asked, leaning against the doorjamb of the bathroom door.

"No," huffed Sarah. "It's still pretty wrinkled. I might have to take you up on the offer of teaching me how to iron."

At six o'clock, I promptly knocked on the front door downstairs as Sarah adjusted her shirt beside me. I tended to be a stickler for punctuality so I was constantly giving Sarah a countdown as to how many minutes she had before we had to leave.

"Sarah, your shirt looks fine," I muttered, as we waited for someone to answer.

"But it's not the one I wanted to wear," Sarah replied grumpily. After taking the time to demonstrate the proper way to use an iron, steam and all, we had realized after ironing the shirt that there was a stain on the shoulder and it ended up going into the laundry bin.