-1 MEETING WITH A CUSTOMER

Sarah's POV

Oh,holy shit! Where is my phone?

I wandered my eyes around, trying not to keep contact with his eyes.

Do you have any experience ? If so, what is it?"....

"I don't have any experience Sir, as such. Maybe a guiding principle— of making coffee, or a bit more about my field of study. I reply him with my head down.

"Miss Elaine?"., my name came out from his mouth as a referenceof fright to me.

What if a questionlike this is thrown to you?For example, like this.

"'A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind can he take possession of anything?"

I was growing angry at myself,because he'sjust here to get coffee, I don't know why he'sasking me all this question.

"So you want to possess things?" You are a control freak.

"I want to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do."

"You sound like the ultimate Business man,I must say" I spat out as I continuecleaning the table and picking up the use coffee cups by gone customer.

"I am." He smiles, but the smile doesn't touch his eyes. Again, this is at odds with someone who wants to feed the world, so I can't help thinking that we're talking about something else, but I'm mystified as to what it is. I swallow hard. The temperature in the coffeeshop is rising, or maybe it's just me. I just want this man or what so ever he is trying to say should be delt with.

I glance at the next man who was sitting with his back bold, making me not seeing his face, all I saw was his blue suit which seems really expensive. Hoping no one is listeningto our conversation.

"Well Mister, ". His brow furrows.

"I have no way of knowing, and this is my working hour, and not for chitchatting with a customer, " I gave him a smiling gesture.

My interest is piqued. "How old are you?" he questionedme with his blue eyes not leaving mine.

Just asking because you're pretty young and knowledgeable Kinda life for your work."

"That's not a question, Sir,because I don't talk to strangers " I watch as he's terse.

"Sorry." I squirm; he's looks made me feel like an errant child. I try again.

I looked at ozzay who was going to be the nextto take his afternoon shift,it'salready 11.30 I have to get out of the shop, since my shift is over for today,I walk pass the unknownman not looking at him to get my bag.

.

"Tell me about your self" I questionedhim,still not looking at him,as we both sat on the waitingchair beside the road.

"I have a family. I have a brother name Jace and a sister name Xemena and two loving parents." he smiled sipping from his latte.

"what's your name, Mr.?"

He inhales sharply, and I cringe, mortified. Crap. Why didn't I employ some kind of filter before I ask him his name from the straight out start? Damn me and my curiosity!

"No, Sarah, I'm cool." He raises his eyebrows, a cool gleam in his eyes. He does not look pleased.

"I apologize. It's, um . . . Just that I'vebeen chatting with you from the shop till nowhere,i don't know your name" It's the first time he's said my name from seeing my tag and not my surname. My heartbeat has accelerated, and my cheeks are heating up again. Nervously, I tuck my loosened hair behind my ear.

He cocks his head to one side.

"These aren't your own questions?" well my name is Alexander Alicanté!

The blood drains from my head.

"Er . . . Mr Alicanté -i then compiled the questions."

"Are you like from a rich family?"

"No." I'mjust a regularman who works to keep up in life. "

He rubs his chin in quiet deliberation, his blue eyes appraising me.

"Did you volunteer to do this ?" he asks, his voice deadly quiet.

"I was drafted,to do what? ." My voice is weak and apologetic.

"That explains a great deal."

A flashy Benz car drove by behind us and stopped. and a man came out of it,he was in his 30s I must say"

"Mr. Alicanté , forgive me for interrupting, but your Dad called for you ."

"We're not finished here, Andrew. Please tell him I'llmeet up with him soon,"but why didn'the call me instead."

Andrew hesitates, gaping at him. He appears lost. He turns his head slowly to face him and raises his eyebrows. I flushes bright pink. Oh, good. It's not just me. He'scute though,for his 30s.

"Very well, Mr. Alicanté ," he mutters, then exits. He frowns, and turns his attention back to me.

"Where were we, Miss Elaine ?"

Oh, we're back to "Miss Elaine " now.

"Please, don't let me keep you from anything."

"I want to know about you. I think that's only fair." His eyes are alight with curiosity. Double crap. Where's he going with this? He places his elbows on the arms of the chair and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. His mouth is very . . . distracting. I swallow.

"There's not much to know."

"What are your plans after you graduate?"

I shrug, thrown by his interest. Move to California with izzy, find a job. I haven't really thought beyond my finals.

"I haven't made any plans, Mr. Alicanté . I just need to get through my final exams." Which I should be studying for right now, rather than sitting here, swanky, with you, feeling ucomfortable under your penetrating gaze.

"We run an excellent internship program Were I work," he says quietly.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Is he directing me to a job location ?

"Oh. I'll bear that in mind," I murmur, confounded. "Though I'm not sure I'd fit in towhatsoever your work place is about." Oh no. I'm musing out loud again.

"Why do you say that?" He tilts his head to one side, intrigued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" I'm uncoordinated, scruffy, and I'm not your kind.

"Not to me." His gaze is intense, all humor gone, and strange muscles deep in my belly clench suddenly. I tear my eyes away from his scrutiny and stare blindly down at my knotted fingers.

What's going on? I have to go— now. I lean forward to retrieve the my purse from the other side of the chair .

"Would you like me to tell you about my work place ?" he asks.

"I'm sure you're far too busy, Mr. Alicanté , and I do have a long drive and I'mgonna be busy with my part-time job and preparations for my exam finale. "

"You're driving back to 5th Avenue ?" He sounds surprised, anxious even. He glances around us. It's begun to show signs that'sit'sgonna rain. "Well, you'd better drive carefully." His tone is stern, authoritative.

"Can we see each other tomorrow? " he added after a little silence

"Yes, sir," I reply, puting my phone into my backpack. His eyes narrow, speculatively.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Alicanté ."

"The pleasure's been all mine," he says, polite as ever.

As I rise, he stands and holds out his hand.

"Until we meet again, Miss Elaine " And it sounds like a challenge, or a threat, I'm not sure which. I frown. When will we ever meet again? I shake his hand once more, astounded that that odd current between us is still there. It must be my nerves.

"Mr. Alicanté ." I nod at him. Moving with lithe athletic grace to the Cab that just stop with the sign of him, he opens it the door wide.

"Just ensuring you make it through the door, Miss Elaine." He gives me a small smile.

Obviously, he's referring to my earlier less-than-elegant entry into the coffee shop . I blush.

"That's very considerate, Mr. Alicanté ," I snap, and his smile widens. I'm glad you find me entertaining, I glower inwardly, walking into the cab . I'm surprised when he follows me into the cab. Making Andrew to look at him at equally surprise inside the Benz. He'sthe Andrew guy waiting to carry Mr. Alicanté?I wondered in my mind.

"Did you have a Sweater ?" Alicanté asks.

"A Coat."

He got out of the cab and snap his fingers and Andew Came with a jacket.

How did he know we where talking bout coat,and why isn'tthe cab man moving?

Andrew leaps up and retrieves the jacket, which Alexander takes from him before he can hand it to me inside the cab. He holds it up and, feeling ridiculously self-conscious, I shrug it on. Alex places his hands for a moment on my shoulders. I gasp at the contact. If he notices my reaction, he gives nothing away. His long index finger presses the button summoning the lock of the windshield , and he stood steelwaiting— awkwardly on my part, coolly self- possessed on his face.

When I turn to look at him, he's gazing at me and leaning against the door hand beside the car with one hand on the wall. He really is very, very good-looking. It's unnerving.

"Sarah," he says as a farewell.

"Alexander ," I reply. And mercifully, heclosed the door.And the man drove away.

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