The Coffee Shop by Lauren Hunter Page A

raw.”
    He grinned at her sarcasm, and she looked away.
    “Oh you just heard that?” But then she laughed, bringing her hand to her mouth. “Forgive me for saying this, but sometimes the instructions they put on things like shampoo…Please tell me people don’t have to actually read them to figure it out?”
    Derrick burst out laughing.
    “That was awful of me,” she apologized.
    “No, it was funny.”
    “No, that was, oh, I am not normally like that. I don’t go around saying things like that. I don’t know what came over me.”
    “Probably the same thing that has come over me since you walked in the door.”
    She wasn’t looking at him, and an awkwardness came over her.
    “But when you think about it. Who do they get to write those instructions? I mean, when do you ever meet anyone that says, you know those instructions on the shampoo bottles? I write those.”
    Annie tried not to laugh, but the harder she tried not to the more she couldn’t control it.
    “Now I get it.”
    “What?”
    “What you were saying before, about being in a church…and laughing.”
    “Oh, you remembered that?”
    “Of course I did. I remember everything you said.”
    She took a step back. “Okay, I don’t know if that’s sweet, or creepy.”
    “It’s sweet. Very sweet.”
    “You don’t have like, oh, I don’t know, a closet where the walls are all covered with photos that have been taken of me when I didn’t know I was being photographed, do you?”
    He looked guilty and looked away from her. “How did you know?”
    For a second Annie wasn’t sure how to take that, but then he grinned.
    “Oh, you’re terrible!” she exclaimed.
    “Sorry, I just couldn’t resist.”
    “Yes, well, we’d better get cooking this meal if we plan on eating tonight.” She saw he already had water in a pot on the stove, and she looked for the knob to turn on the burner.
    “Here, allow me.”
    “Do you have a timer? I like to cook the pasta exactly twenty minutes. If you like it more al dente then you can take out half before that. I personally hate it too al dente. I know we are said to overcook, and over sauce, our pastas. But to be honest, I think just the opposite of those who do it the other way. They undercook and under sauce their pasta. I guess it’s all in what you’ve become used to. Anything other than that just doesn’t seem right somehow.” She turned to see him staring at her. “Oh, I’m babbling aren’t I? I’m sorry. I don’t — ”
    “No, you aren’t doing anything wrong. As far as I am concerned, you could never do any wrong.”
    She turned to face him. “Isn’t that a line from a book, or a movie, or something?”
    “If it is, I have, as of now, taken ownership of it. How does that sound?”
    She opened her mouth to reply but paused. “Okay, if you insist.”
    The water had started to boil, and gathering a handful of fettuccine she dropped it into the pot. Grabbing the saltshaker, she gave it a generous shake into the water. “I know some people put a bit of oil into the water, so the pasta won’t stick, but I never do. It’s fine without it, and I figure I don’t need all that extra oil in my system. And a bit of salt helps to give it some flavor, at least I hope it does.” He was staring at her again. “Oh now what have I said?”
    “Oh, for someone that claims to have no talent when it comes to cooking…”
    “What?”
    “Al dente, over cooking, under cooking, over saucing, under saucing?”
    “Well, I never said I was stupid, just physically inept when it comes to the mechanics of it all.”
    “You mean like two left thumbs?”
    “Now you see. Where does that expression come from? Did someone just decide one day, man, if I had two left thumbs I would be a total spaz.” She gasped. “Oh, I just did it again. I am a horrible, horrible person.”
    “No.” Derrick burst out laughing. “Annie, you are not.” But then his expression became serious. “Excuse me, but did you just