Spree
2268 Words
“Am I not good enough for you to f*ck?” she asks all of a sudden!
Rubbing my eyebrows, I'm worried that the taxi driver is overhearing what we're talking about. He just acts like he heard nothing, nonetheless.
“I kindly ask you to stop talking about those things!” I whisperingly plead to her.
Closing her mirror, she says, “What are you freaking out for?”
“Freaking out? Who wouldn't freak out because of the way you act in public?”
She scoffs, picking her nose. “You're overreacting.”
“And what the hell? At least try to hide when picking your nose. It's disgusting.”
“Here.” She's going to wipe her booger on her finger to me!
“Don't! Stop it, you!”
I lean back to dodge but she keeps on nearing it to me. She laughs, drawing it back, opens the window, flicks it outside.
“You're like a girl,” she chuckles. “don't you know that?”
“I'm not! Anyone would be disgusted by that!”
“Yes, but the way you overreact is the same with a girl.”
She pulls out a tissue paper from her back and wipes her finger. Then uses alcohol to sanitize her hands. How dare she says that I'm acting like a girl that she's even sanitizing herself like that.
“You're the one who's acting like a girl.”
She turns her whole head and looks at me with a lip bite. “Maybe I am. So, do you want to find out?”
That was... a little bit seducing so I look away. “Just stop it,” is all I could say.
She laughs it off and pulls out her phone. I look at my phone too just to see some memes so that I can forget what had just happened. I'm still unsettled when she told me I'm like a girl. I'm not acting like a girl, I'm a man as ever! She was just joking. Yes, that was only a joke. I'll make her regret saying that. I'll show her when I finally have a girl for me.
Several minutes later, we have arrived. She pays for us then we got off in front of this fancy Japanese restaurant. Through the glass pane, I can see classy customers, some of them are Japanese, eating special dishes from Japan. The waiters themselves are so classy in the way they serve them. I feel out of place when we enter. There are chandeliers at the ceiling, original Japanese paintings on the wall, calm piano music, the mood is warm because of the yellow lights, and table sets that are minimalistic but look beautiful.
We sit at the table right next to the glass. I feel relieved that she chose it. A waiter comes to us and says, “May I take your order?” with a seemingly smooth and calm voice. He gives us the menu. We grab one each.
He's a Filipino but dressed neatly in a kimono. It's no wonder that he does because this is a Japanese restaurant, designed to make people feel that it is.
“I would like to order this one,” she says, showing and pointing at the menu. “and this one.” The waiter takes note of it. Then she looks at me. “Have you decided?”
“Uh...” I hurriedly look at the menu and I saw ramen—the food I always wanted to try. “Ramen, I guess.”
“Is that all?” asks the waiter.
“Yeah,” she says and I nod.
“Right away, madam, sir.” He bows at us before walking away.
She sighs, leaning back against the back of her chair. “I miss the taste of home,” she says.
“There are hundreds of colleges in Japan, right? Also, there are a lot of first-world countries with top-notch education to choose from. Why did you choose to come study here?”
“I just felt like it,” she answers, looking at her phone.
“It wouldn't make sense that you would give your all in studying, would it? You are already running multiple businesses and you're still studying.”
“Yeah, that's right. I can earn enough for myself even if I don't graduate.”
“You're incredible.” She looks at me and I realize that I'm complimenting her out of nowhere. To the table, I look down, hoping that she won't take it weirdly.
“Well, thank you,” she says instead. “But the businesses I owned is what my uncle gave me. I worked part-time on one of his businesses. There, I learned about many things until he made me a manager. Then when he died because of cancer, he wrote a will to give me all of what he had. He didn't have a family of his own so I was the only one he could trust.”
“Woah,” I awe, having no idea what to say. And she did mention that she runs maid cafes right? Is it possible that she was a maid before getting promoted? I would love to see that. “So,” I speak. “uh... did you work as a maid?”
She frowns, looking away from me. “I won't talk about that.”
“Okay,” I nod.
I stopped there because she doesn't want to talk about it. The way she answered and the way she reacted, shows that she really worked as a maid but hated it. She's a tomboy and a lesbian, after all. I don't want to make her uncomfortable. I'm quiet here but my mind is busy imagining what would she look like in a maid outfit.
Our order arrived at our table and I'm impressed with how they look and smell! She ordered a beautiful-looking row of sushi on two plates. My ramen in a bowl is looking pretty good with rich soup, toppings, and a piece of meat. This is gonna make me full, unlike those noodles I buy from the sari-sari stores. The drinks have been also delivered.
“Let's eat,” she says, putting her palms together before grabbing her chopsticks.
It's their custom so, “Let's eat,” I say too.
I'm not that good at using chopsticks as she does so it takes me a lot of time to eat. She already finished half of her sushi slices. This ramen is so good! Minutes later, she finishes and waits for me to finish mine.
“This restaurant is good enough,” she remarks. “It might not be better than the ones in Japan but it's understandable. They won't thrive in this country without changing the tastes of their food.”
“Different races have different tastes—they say,” I mention.
“Yes, it does. I learned that long ago. That's why I'm still in a dilemma about what food and drinks I should serve in my cafe here.” She looks through the glass pane to her right, watching the cars and people passing by. “What drinks do you think I should serve?” she asks.
“I don't think I can help.”
“Oh, just tell me.” She looks at me, ready to listen.
“If you insist,” I nod. I finished my ramen so I'm ready to talk more. “If you ask me, most of us Filipinos like cold beverages because it's always hot in here. But it slightly depends on the time of day or the weather. Milk tea and iced coffee are very popular among teenagers here.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” she lightens up. “You know what? Let's go and visit different cafes!”
“We could but we have to go back to the campus for attendance.”
“Nah, it'll be fine.” She stands up from her chair and calls, “Waiter!” He comes to our table and she gives her credit card to pay. After scanning, she looks at me with her bright eyes. “Let's go.” We went out of the restaurant and she asks me, “Where are the cafes at?”
“Hey, we really need to go back or the Student Council won't take us lightly if we have absences in school events such as the sports fest.”
“F*ck 'em and let's go.”
“You're not listening!”
“Just-” She grabs my wrist and pulls me while running on the sidewalk.
“What?! Wait!” I'm concerned that we may hit people because the sidewalk is so crowded! Some of them even look at us in disdain. She's crazy!
“We're gonna have a little adventure, bro!”
“I don't want that! We have to go back or-”
“Just be reckless for once,” she says, looking at me over her shoulder. The way her hair flows with the wind while she smiles is like... I couldn't describe it but she's just so bright. “Hang on!” she warns before running faster and pulling me.
She lets go of my wrist but my legs start to move on their own to chase her. From here, she looks like she's leaving me again. But she's within my reach. I run faster to catch up with her until she stops in front of a popular cafe.
Entering the place, she looks around, observing how the interiors look. It is “coffee-themed” as I could say because the walls and furniture are colored light brown and dark brown like coffee. The light bulbs above are warm-colored and the music is playing acoustic guitar without lyrics. It's very chilling here and my kind of place to chill out. She looks at the menu and the orders of other customers. They are mostly teenagers hanging out together and laughing. Most of them drink iced coffee and milk tea—as I told her. Only a handful drink warm and strong coffee.
At the counter, Eli orders, “I'd like to try your milk tea.” Turning to look at me behind her, she asks, “Do you want anything?”
“Nah, I'm good,” I refuse politely.
We wait for about a minute or until the lady at the counter says, “You can find a place to sit, ma'am. We'll bring it to you.”
“It's fine,” says Eli with an enthusiastic smile. “I'm gonna take it outside.”
“Okay, ma'am.”
Her order arrives sooner than expected. She drinks it on the counter as soon as she grabs it. Looking at the ceiling, she tastes the milk tea thoroughly.
“Not bad,” she comments then leaves it on the counter, barely even drinking it. “Let's go.”
“What?” I ask, confused. “You still haven't finished it.”
“You can finish it for me.”
I grab it and follow her to the door. Having a hard time finishing the milk tea and my stomach aching, I follow her around downtown, searching for other cafes. As I remember, there are at least a dozen of cafes around here. Don't tell me that she's gonna try them all!!
“There!” she points across the street. We wait before the pedestrian lane and cross as soon as the pedestrian signal turns green.
While walking at a fast pace, I didn't bother to finish the milk tea and just dunk it straight into the trash can nearby. I then found her entering the cafe without me.
“Eli!” I call. Oh, sh*t! The side of my body is aching! I'm gonna get appendicitis at this point but she's not feeling anything!
“Hurry!” she answers, entering through the door.
As soon as I enter, she's already ordering at the counter. This cafe is also popular but more popular among working people that like to have peace while working. Most of them are people in their twenties with laptops on their desks and mugs with warm and strong black coffee.
She tries that one drinks it at the counter right away, and coughs. “My tongue!” she cries in pain.
“You id*ot!” I scold her. “You aren't supposed to drink it that fast!”
“Okay, let's go!”
“What about your coffee?!”
“Finish it for me,” she says again, already walking to the door.
“I can't finish it, I'm full!”
“Then leave it.”
I can't believe her! She's being rude! I look at the man who is the cashier and apologize, “I'm sorry, sir. She's in a hurry.”
“Oh, it's fine,” he says with a smile. “She paid for it.”
I nod before following her to the door to catch up. Upon stepping outside, it took me a while before I could spot her to my right from afar, going through the crowd of people. I can't believe this! I should be on campus right now, getting my attendance signed for the day. Not chasing some tomboy on a cafe-spree around downtown! This is gonna be hard when we start to signed our clearance when the semester's over. We still have time. And argh!! My side is aching so bad! I gotta convince her to come back to campus before it's too late.
- Writer
