This ‘burrito place’ was actually a small stand about a block away from the office. It was tiny, but popular, with the best tortillas in the entire city — according to Room 3 anyway. Now, when it comes to burritos, I’ve had some amazing guacamole, salsa, sour cream even — but I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone gush over tortillas the way he did, but he swore they were the real star of the show. It was cute — in a he-sure-does-love-his-Mexican-food kind of way.
Our tortilla conversation came to a close as we reached a crosswalk and the space that was once occupied by our words, was now filled with nothing but the busy sounds of the downtown traffic. I could feel him looking in my direction, probably waiting to catch my attention, but I kept my eyes on the signal. Once the light turned red and we were given the go-ahead to cross, he did the same with our conversation — into a new, more personal, direction.
“So where’re you from?” he asked as we crossed from one sidewalk to the other.
His tone, made his question seem innocent enough, but that didn’t mean I was going to make it easy for him, especially since I was pretty sure there would be others — others, that had nothing to do with burritos. And this was not a date. Get-to-know-each-other questions were for dates — not burrito runs.
“What makes you think I’m not from here?”
“Just an observation,” he gave me another one of those smiles from earlier.
Observation? What kind of observation could he have possibly made during the ten collective minutes we’ve spent together? None, I’m sure, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.
“And what did this observation tell you?”
“Well…” he paused, probably to give himself time to come up with whatever bullshit he was about to feed me, “you’ve never delivered mail before so that tells me you haven’t been on the job that long.”
“That’s just a lucky guess,” I brushed off his findings.
“You could say that but then there’s the burrito thing.”
“What burrito thing?”
“When I mentioned the burrito place, you had no idea it existed.”
“So?” I shrugged.
“Soooo, I’ve never met an Atwood native who didn’t know about the burrito place,” he pointed over his shoulder at the row of buildings where we worked, “Especially ones that worked right around the corner from it.”
Okay. Maybe it wasn’t bullshit after all.
“So if I had to guess,” he continued his analysis, “you moved here recently, most likely around the time you started your new job and if that’s the case, you had to have come from somewhere so…”
Damn, he was good, but I was not willing to give him that satisfaction.
“Soooo,” I said in the same smug tone he gave me a few lines ago, “that’s a whole lot of observing for someone I don’t even know like that.”
“Ohhh, okay,” he laughed as if he had just struck comedy gold, “So what you’re saying is, you wanna get to know me?”
What? No! That is not what I’m saying! I can’t believe he’s twisting my words right now.
“No! I just meant—,” I struggled to get my words out, “if someone’s asking you questions and stuff— I mean you already know my— What I mean is— ugh!” I sucked my teeth, “Shut up.”
The stupid grin plastered on his face, let me know that my slight case of word vomit only enhanced his entertainment.
“Now if I do that,” he smirked, “how will we get to know each other?”
He thinks he’s so damn cute.
I rolled my eyes, picking up my pace, “I guess it’s a good thing I don’t want to get to know you then.”
“Ahh… that’s too bad. I was hoping to get to know you.”
See, this is exactly why I should’ve just stayed my ass at the job.