Breaking Masks Read online

I considered that for a moment. “No, I found a really good coffee shop.”

  He looked confused at that, but just shook his head and went back to his computer. I changed for bed and crawled under the covers where I read myself to sleep.

  I woke up the next morning and lay staring at the ceiling, wishing classes had started already. That would at least give me something with which to fill my time. I sat up and looked over to where Foster was still asleep. The sheets had twisted around his body while he slept and he was exposed from the waist up. It could have been worse, I thought to myself. He's not really my type, but he's not that bad to look at either.

  I climbed out of bed, picked out an outfit and took a leisurely shower. I actually had time to shave. It's not like I had to be anywhere. The campus was eerily quiet. It was still pretty empty without any of the upper classmen, and the freshmen were still in bed for the most part. My inner alarm clock never really allowed me to sleep in, so I was up long before most teenagers willingly chose to get up.

  I was checking my email when my coffee craving kicked into high gear. I grabbed my wallet and headed towards The Morning Rush. It was actually around nine, so the real morning rush was pretty much over. In fact, as I pushed open the door, there was only one other person here, and he was working behind the counter. The guy looked up as I entered and promptly dropped his cup of coffee on the floor.

  “Excuse me,” he said and disappeared through the door behind the counter. He emerged a second later with a mop and began to clean up the spill. He looked vaguely familiar but I couldn't figure out why. He was kind of cute actually. He was short -- he looked to be around five foot five -- and slim. His dark hair was cut short and did this cute little flip thing in the front. He wore a tight fitting VRU shirt that showed off his toned upper body. I would have pegged him for high school student if not for the shirt.

  Finally, he had the coffee cleaned up and he approached the counter. He was looking everywhere but at me. This was one high-strung kid. Maybe he'd been drinking too much of his own product. “So, uh, do I place my order with you?” I asked after a moment. His gray eyes snapped to my face and he blushed as I smiled. Hmm, unless my gaydar detector was malfunctioning I thought I might be picking up some signals here.

  “Um, yeah,” he managed after a long pause.

  “Someone recommended the double cappuccino with whipped cream last night. I'll take one of those.”

  He gulped visibly and turned away. He grabbed a glass mug which he promptly dropped. Poor kid -- he was an absolute wreck. He fumbled with the cappuccino machine for a few seconds before he got it working. He capped it off with extra whipped cream and brought it back over to me, still avoiding my eyes. He was looking quite pale.

  “Um, you ok?” I asked as he set the cup down and snatched his hands away like he thought I was going to grab him.

  “Yeah, um, sure, everything's Jake,” he said. I blinked in surprise. Did he know my name somehow? He still wasn't looking at me so I figured it was just an expression.

  “Cute.” I pulled a five from my pocket to pay him. He rang me up, sliding my change across the counter to avoid contact with my hand.

  I took my drink and retreated to the same table I'd sat at the night before. I was not having good luck meeting new people so far. My roommate was a brainless hunk of jock-flesh, Becca had turned out to be a monster bitch, and the first gay guy I meet is scared to even look at me. Or maybe he wasn't even gay; maybe he's just super shy. Then again, if he was that shy, maybe a coffee shop wasn't the best choice in jobs.

  I sat staring out the window while sipping my cappuccino -- it was as good as promised, if not better -- and feeling sorry for myself. The door burst open triggering a bell and interfering in my pity party. Two women bustled in, one was Marla from last night and the other a much larger women with dark hair.

  “Kody with a `K', you can go. We're back,” the larger woman called. So the kid was named Kody. Cute name. Cute kid. Just then, the large woman noticed me and flashed me a bright smile. The two women had reached the counter by now and were busily tying on aprons. Kody came out of the office looking like a timid wild animal that would run at the slightest provocation. “Kody, go on, get out of here!” the larger woman said.

  “Sure you don't need anything else done?” he asked.

  “I'm married and you aren't her type,” Marla quipped. The bigger woman swatted at her while they both cackled. They continued to talk, but in lowered voices now so I couldn't hear them. My thoughts slipped away again into the realm of self-pity. Watching Marla and her friend play around made me feel even more alone.

  “Did it live up to the recommendation?” someone asked me, snapping me out of thoughts.

  “Sorry?” I asked, looking up to find Kody with a “K” standing in front of me looking as if he might bolt at any second.

  “Your coffee, is it ok?” he asked, pointing to my glass mug.

  “Oh, yeah. It's great. Much better than that place on campus. Bitter, bitter stuff over there,” I said with a shiver.

  “Ok, good. Well, see you.” He began to edge towards the door.

  “Kody!” the large woman behind the counter called, and started giggling. The kid flushed bright red and turned around as if it pained him to do so. What the hell was going on? He slowly walked to a small table in the center of the room, snatched something off of it, turned his back to me for a second, then walked back to my table.

  “Um, they are hiring here, if you're interested,” he mumbled handing me a sheet of paper.

  “Excuse me?” I asked, not quite sure I was following. I glanced down at the paper and saw it was an application. Marla and the other woman were giggling behind the counter and I realized what was going on. They'd set the kid up to give me an application. He was probably dying right now. I looked up to find he'd flushed an even deeper shade of crimson, if that was possible. “A job, huh? Thanks.” The words had barely left my mouth before he was out the door.

  I watched him go and thought about what a weird experience that had been. Another day, another cute kid running away from me. And he was awful cute, in a shy, awkward way. I looked back down at the application. I didn't want a job right now, I wanted to settle into my classes first, but it might not be a bad idea later. I would probably need some spending money. I folded up the application and slipped it into my pocket. I finished off the last of my coffee and stood up. I left a tip on the table next to my mug and walked out.

  Chapter 2

  Breaking Masks

  Josh Aterovis and Dave Dabeagle

  © 2003

  "Kody"

  “It'll be good for you,” dad had said. “You'll be independent,” he had said. “It'll be such a great experience, all new things for you,” he had said. Well, so far -- not so different, I thought to myself as I wiped the countertop. I still worked in a freaking coffee shop -- not so different from the one dad owned for that matter.

  “Oh my God, I am so tired,” Max said as she came through the door. My manager was always tired whether it was first thing in the morning or the middle of her day off. “Did you make any hot chocolate?”

  “Yes, Max,” I replied. I had been working here for a week and I still thought it kind of funny the manager didn't drink coffee.

  “What time is orientation?” she asked as she moved behind the counter. Marla was waiting on a customer and Mike was cleaning up behind the counter. At nine o'clock the biggest part of the morning rush was over and drudgery would soon set in until shortly before noon -- just like home.

  “Ten, but I'll leave about quarter of since I've never been there before,” I replied as I, too, headed behind the counter.

  “That's fine. Did you make me a copy of your schedule? Thanks.” She turned from me to accept a cup of hot chocolate from Marla. They were a study in contrasts. Marla was petite with long blond hair streaked with darker shades, and Max was a large woman with long chestnut curls who smiled frequently, especially when Mike worked, though he appeared to b
e oblivious.

  “Right here.” I pulled the folded paper from my back pocket.

  “Good. You'd have been in so much trouble if you forgot.” She grinned and walked away to the small office in the back. Mike and I finished wiping down tables and refilling coffee pots while Marla waited on the straggler customers. At nine forty, I hung up my little red apron, tucked my shirt in, and waved to the rest of the crew at the Morning Rush before heading off to orientation.

  Van Rensselaer University of New York at Albany was my destination. I had been told that New York was humid in the summertime, but today had a nice breeze going and actually wasn't too bad. I strolled up Central Avenue

  , past a couple of bars that were closed and a couple of shops just opening up. Traffic was heavy and city busses groaned by, the sidewalks were covered in people bustling to and fro.

  VRU had been my dad's idea, and I thought it was great at first. I was away from home and away from him for the first time in five years, on my own in a new city with all sorts of opportunities. Sounds good, doesn't it? Well, after we showed up and found an apartment for me and got it all set up; it hadn't taken me long to break down and call him and my little brother, Charlie. I'd laughed at him when he bought the phone cards, but I guess he laughed last.

  I got a job in short order, and the coffee shop fit me very well considering all the experience I had at home. I seemed to fit pretty well at the coffee shop too, despite not being out or anything. No one questioned me, and I guess that's not really the sort of thing to say to someone upon being introduced.

  Dad graduated from VRU sometime in the Stone Age, and he thought it would be great for me to get my education where he did. I was beginning to think this was a really bad idea as I didn't know anyone and I didn't have anything to fall back on except for that little phone and the cards he gave me. I mean, if I am supposed to be independent I can't call home every fifteen minutes, can I?

  I mounted the stone steps in front of the main VRU Administration building but just as I reached for the door, it opened. I stepped back as a fellow student rushed by me with a quick apology and a flash of a smile. Did I say a flash? Time seemed to slow for a second, allowing me a glimpse of dark blond locks framing a strong face with a clear, smooth brow. His lips were rosy and full and only the white upper teeth showed when he smiled. He had some slight stubble near his chin, hopefully not growing one of those stupid spikes of hair some baby-faced guys were so fond of these days. Other than that, his cheeks were smooth.

  Then he disappeared around the corner. It took me a moment to realize that I was standing outside, holding the door open like the world's dumbest doorman. I tried to stroll in as if nothing had happened, but my heart was pounding and my palms were sweating just a bit. I proceeded, unsteadily, to the table set up for assisting with directions for new students and inquired about the location of the orientation.

  After crossing campus to the lecture hall, I looked around in vain for a seat. I had no idea you would need to show up early to get a seat to a freshman orientation! I leaned up against a break in the humanity lining the wall and studied the room. It was an amphitheater style auditorium with a balding man in a charcoal suit and maroon tie speaking about random crap concerning the campus and surrounding community.

  The room looked a little out of date. Shiny, mustard colored drapes hung over the tall windows, open to allow the summer light to drench the room and fall like a spot light on the hot guy in the next to last row.

  Holy shit! It was the guy from the admin building! He was a freshman too! I suppose it would be too much to ask that he be a Journalism major as well? Maybe he'd need a private tutor? I needed a new hobby -- or a hobby. Every time I started to take in some aspect of the room, my gaze returned to him, sunlight hitting his straight hair at the crown of his head, forming a silly little halo that shimmered every time he shifted in his chair, from boredom no doubt. This speaker could put a group of insomniacs to sleep!

  The guy shifted in his chair again, and tilted his head to scratch just under his chin. The motion revealed the tanned skin on his shoulders and neck as he dug just under the collar for whatever was irritating him -- outside of the speaker of course. From what I could see, there wasn't a blemish to be had.

  “So, if I could have attendance here real quick, we are going to identify you all by major by a show of hands. Accounting?” the speaker broke into my thoughts as he began counting hands. I paid attention as he moved through the majors, raising my hand at Journalism and watching in amusement as people made a sudden berth around those that raised their hands in response to Mortuary Science.

  My guy raised his hand as General Studies were announced, a toned arm with very smooth skin, nicely tanned. Ok, this was definitely unhealthy, as dad would say. If I let my imagination run from here we'd have me married with three kids, a mortgage, a second car and divorced before we leave the lecture hall.

  We were all dismissed finally, and I left having absorbed only that this guy had great skin and that he was in General Studies. I sincerely hoped that baldy hadn't said anything important. I was swept outside by the rush of people, which was just as well since I'd probably just stand and stare at that guy while people poured around me, like water breaks on the pylons of a bridge.

  Dad would laugh. I did this way too much. Well, not this time mister cute fella! I am not falling for your charms! I marched resolutely to the bookstore to grab some extra notebooks and possibly a paperback for that evening, as a distraction. I crossed the impossibly bright campus, down the brick walkways to the student union where the bookstore and other shops were located. I was about to walk in when I heard the distinct sound of video games, for which I freely admit I need a twelve step.

  The arcade was small. It just had a few out-of-date games, but I dropped some quarters in there, mindlessly succumbing to my addiction. I ran out of quarters a buck fifty later. I resisted the temptation to get more change, and headed back over to the bookstore. The store was smallish, with stacks of books in huge piles arranged by class number. I stepped in and came to a halt. Damn it! There he was! Browsing the books and holding a sheet of paper out in front of him as he compared numbers on his class schedule to the ones hanging from the stacks of books.

  I froze like a squirrel in the road, my body twitching between going in the store and turning and running. He glanced about him in frustration, apparently not finding the book he wanted. A couple of people brushed past me and I drifted on into the store, moving slowly over to the fiction stock they kept. I wanted so badly to go over and help him find his stuff, but that was way too close to being a stalker for comfort. Well, watching him, unobserved was relatively creepy as well, but justifiable.

  After all, this guy looks like he's almost six foot and probably bangs cheerleaders two at a time while chugging a pitcher of beer. God knows anyone who looks like that can't be a virgin -- unlike yours truly. He looked around for help, but the girls behind the counter were busy ringing up purchases that mommies and daddies were putting on their charge cards. I hesitated, thinking how just a bit ago I was pumping myself up to not get caught up by this beautiful work of art -- and yet my feet were already moving. Ever get the feeling some parts of your body turn traitor at times?

  I moved slowly across the floor, drawing ever closer to him as he appeared to be ready to give up his search. Then, quite suddenly, that's just what he did, exiting the shop in long strides that would have left me running to catch up to. I watched him go, as silent as I had been while watching from a distance. What was I supposed to say to catch his attention? “Hey, unbelievably cute guy! Need some help to find your books?”

  I walked back to the fiction section, paperback in hand and searched for where it belonged on the shelf. My father's coffee shop also sold books, so I was a little bit of a stickler for books going where they belonged. He was so anal about that sort of thing. I settled on a car magazine and left the student union, bound for home.

  It was only Thursday, so I had a
few more days before class started on Monday. There would be no sleeping in. Max had made sure to tell me that I would be opening every day that I didn't have an early class. I idly wondered if my newest crush liked coffee. The sun stayed high in the sky for a few more hours as I lay on my small couch reading from my magazine.

  Dad and I had gone shopping when I got here, but the furniture was all used. Dad says that's all part of the college experience, but I admit hitting garage sales and stuff was kind of fun. All my furniture was used, dented and scratched, with the exception of the bed. Dad said that no matter what anyone said, he got the creeps buying a used mattress, so he'd sprung for a new one. It was full size -- plenty big enough for me -- and simple in design. The mattress was heaven, though, with one of those little pillows laid across the entire top of the mattress. Yeah, baby! That's what I'm talking about!

  I had a battered nineteen-inch TV which was on my list to upgrade when possible, but no cable or internet yet. For now, I had to go to the school to use the internet, but I hoped Dad might be planning to send me a computer for my birthday. At least, I hope he read my not so subtle hints for one.

  I rolled off the mattress and switched on the PS2, the one thing dad let me take. Charlie, my little brother, fought like a champ; but I hid it in my suitcase. It didn't take long for me to switch it off, though. Thoughts of this guy were still messing with me. I hate it when I get like this. These temporary obsessions never work out.