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a n a m n e s i s

[Greek]: To recall past events; a recollection.

IT COULD HAVE been a staring contest. A battle of the fittest, of some sort. On either side, we were currently attempting to tip the scale; to find a victor between agreement, as well as thorough refusal. And in our case, he was the green light, whereas my stance remained a bloody hell, no.

Per usual, when it came to the subject at hand.

His left eyebrow twitched. "Yes."

I beamed at him, feeling my lips stretch in nothing short of an impish grin. "Well, no."

My words seemed to fall like dust flecks off his shoulders.

"Personal assistant, secretary, creative director," he continued, listing off the positions like the ever annoying know it all he was. "I'll give you anything you want."

I snorted, and then leaned back into my chair. "Creative director, really? Someone's getting tragically desperate."

"Well, you're certainly giving me no choice," Cole clapped back. "I'm giving you options here. Coin clinking options." As though my brain was clogged, he deemed it fit to rub his fingers together for effect. "Especially since you're not agreeing to just sit pretty, and get a degree."

I shot him a cool look.

"You mean with the tuition fee you'll be paying? That one?"

"Details." He waved me off, before his look turned even more impatient. "Oh, come on, Cass. Enough is enough. When are you finally going to ditch this place and come work for me instead?"

His voice raised, and I immediately swat at his arm to shut him up.

"Shawn is going to have your balls if he hears your yapping," I hissed. "And we both know just how much your life depends on those two."

He seemed to take the hint, and simmered down with a roll of his eyes.

"Besides," I went on, offering him a pointed stare. "Quit hating on Haven. This is my base."

The blue-green eyes I knew far too well narrowed at my response, and he leaned in close to level my gaze. "I maintain, you are the most obstinate rat in the whole damn Metropolis."

I shrugged with a smile. "I try."

After he shook his head, and let out a chuckle, I knew he had caved in. At least, today. Well, just like he had for all the past, probably six hundred and something ones before.

Point, Cassidy. For the nth time.

My obviously much too arrogant friend, never failed to try to bribe me into leaving my job, nearly every day. Which was basically as often as he came here.

Honestly—and I would admit, that I wasn't exactly heavy on bucks by any standards. But the thing was, dear Cole was quite the opposite. As head of one of the most successful publishing companies in the country, his social status and monetary value was as good as Everest, compared to mine dancing carefree on the bottom soil of the mountain.

Made me wonder what he was doing with me, sometimes.

As I was about to tune in to whatever gossip he was currently rambling about, my eyes caught sight of a quite advanced looking man make his way into the restaurant. A woman trudged in behind him—glaringly younger, judging by appearance. She looked around my age, if I wasn't older.

His overall attire, consisting of his crisp and perfectly pressed dark suit, up to the shit-load of gel infused in his now silky gray hair, immediately let me know he was one of the privileged ones. As insignificant as it seemed, it was even down to the detail of the way he walked. Confident, imposing. It basically changed the air around him; turned it entitled, turned it his.

He wasn't one of our usual customers, that was a given. Still, one brief sweep of his eyes around the room with an elevated brow, made him slightly curl his lip in...satisfaction?

Better put, adequate pleasance.

Haven got a mix of different patronizers. Our location was comfortably, yet strategically settled close to a good number of reputable companies in Manhattan. Adding that factor to our business outlook, overall made us appeal to both the well off, and the average.

Not to mention, our prices weren't half bad.

The man finally selected a table not far from the entrance, and I watched him pull a chair out for his companion, before he moved to sit on his own. Now, in naivety, I would have smiled at what appeared to be a father-daughter date.

But that idea would certainly have been burned to ash, and quicker than I could blink. Especially considering the fact that the man's eyes had deemed it unnecessary—no, abominable—to leave the view of the girl's halfway open chest.

His finger found it's way there soon after, and he indulged in dragging down a repulsive line, leading into even more uncharted territory. Whether or not charted to him, I didn't care to know. But I observed the girl lean back with a rather forced smile, before rubbing her arms as she spoke to him.

My grip tightened on my glass.

"Hello? Earth to disregarding spaceship."

And of course, Cole decided that there was no moment better than this one, to start annoyingly snapping fingers in my face.

"What?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"Oh, it's nothing really." His tone was rather nonchalant, the rest of his response drawled out, as he gobbled up the last piece of pie on his plate. "I just love it when you zone out, and leave me talking to myself for minutes on end. There's really nothing I adore more than these conversations of ours."

I sighed and proceeded to play with my straw, releasing the anger that had begun to simmer beneath the surface. Attempting to smile, I decided to pacify him. "I'm sorry," I spoke up. "What were we talking about? Besides you trying to get me to leave my job as usual, of course."

He stayed silent, all of a sudden, finding some gritty TV show airing on the ceiling. I kicked his foot under the table.

"Oh, come on." I offered him a pout, pretentious, and in stark contrast to the pressure from my hit. "I said I was sorry."

"You're violent, and annoying." He rolled his eyes. "But fine. Stella and I broke things off."

Following a dramatic, and more than time wasting sip of my smoothie, I had my feedback.

"Gee, I'm in shock."

Cole scowled at my bland remark, before his deeper voice went several octaves higher in an attempt to mimic me. He tilted his head to the side in a manner that was nothing short of ridiculous, before he mocked me with my very own words.

I scrunched up my nose. As usual, he opted for being the sour sport. Because I, for one, actually had a normally textured voice.

I certainly did not sound like a chipmunk on cheap coke.

"And stop looking at me like that," he deadpanned. "She became chewing gum in my fucking hair. I could barely even talk to Harriett. For goodness sakes, the woman's my secretary, and she could almost be my mother." He shook his head, lips curling up in annoyance. "Most times, Stella's great, yes. But I can't. And I really did try—this time. If nobody else, at least you should know that."

"Oh, I know," I agreed. "I know that three weeks is much more than you could ever drag a committed relationship." He eased into his seat, arms folded, as he listened to me divulge the definitely more important information. "And of course, that you don't need to worry about your future, Coleman. A woman's gonna kill you. My only mistake is I didn't start working on the obituary ages ago."

Just in time, he let out a rather wistful sigh.

"If I die by feminine hands, then this glory of a man dies with honor." Cole placed a hand to his chest, before his eyes suddenly lit up like a child's. "Oh, and now, I'm curious. What would it say?"

My brain wandered immediately, words floating through my mind as I tried to hold it all in. The term man whore would probably make an appearance more than one too many times, and then the ending could fall along the lines of here's to jumping your bones for all inexistence.

That sealed the deal and I all but burst out laughing, but chose to keep the joke to myself and not respond to the latter part.

"Nothing you should know. The deceased don't get that privilege," I told him, a lingering smile on my face for sure. Remembering what he said first though, I scoffed. "And don't choke on it, Pitt."

I would have belligerently argued, and told my good friend that his face more than resembled the scrunched up can of soda I tossed in the bin a while ago. Still, there truly was no point countering him when he was truthfully, honestly, right.

I figured during creation, some people really did gain the better of the lot. But in all honesty, I would have to admit that Cole did look like he was taken very special time on.

He was nearly off the charts, and it was sad that I couldn't even gag admitting it. Because it was just that obvious. So obvious, it was irritating.

From the golden blonde locks crowning his head, his sun kissed skin, leading all the way to the lovely blue-green his eyes sported as their color (seeing as they never quite seemed able to decisively pick between both hues), Coleman strayed mere millimeters away from mortal perfection.

And adding all that to his sugary tongue and charm: lethal.

Although—and as much as I hated to admit it sometimes, he was much more than all of that.

Despite his looks, Cole also had his beaming personality going for him. He drew people in like swarming fish to a baited hook, and it was as though he carried the sun on his shoulders, just wanting to shine it all on everyone. Still, for me, I couldn't handle such things at once. I had learned, and rather preferred to soak up his rays in doses; little by little.

All of Coleman in one go would blind me.

"I'd say you're just being jealous," he stated. "But look at us, we're both darned aesthetic."

I let out a snort of a laugh.

"Yeah. Let's just keep the ball in your court."

"And why wouldn't we?" He immediately cut in. "All you wear is that branded T-shirt, along with many others I'm sure you've got stashed up in your closet. The rest, all four times your size, I'm sure."

I suppressed the urge to chug the rest of my drink at him, as I choked on further laughter.

But then, Cole's gaze turned somber and my wheezing gradually stopped.

I inwardly cringed, because I was more than familiar with what came next.

"You know," he began softly, "I still just hope that one day, you'll finally let yourself shine. Take a chance—the risk, and live your own life. You know I only want you to do things for you."

He took my hand, and I sighed.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with what you do. But we both know you are so much more. You want so much more than this."

It tugged at my heart, because in spite of everything, Cole was just as much the wonderful person he was when I first met him, nearly four years ago. Four years. It was odd how during moments like these, I needed time to to slow down, and yet somehow, it still felt as though it just couldn't move fast enough. Couldn't begin to dull the nostalgia and bleak memories.

I smiled, and gently squeezed his hand.

"This—" I gestured between myself and him or emphasis. "Like I've said a hundred times, this is all I need. Just trust me, and believe that for now."

He let out a frustrated breath, while I smirked.

"And if you want me to live the good life so bad, just keep the tips coming, chap."

"Sure, how gracious of you," he grumbled. "But fine. I'll take it. Maybe I'll just have to double those instead."

I bit back a scoff and patted his hand. The extra bills he already gave me were overly generous, and it was a struggle for me to even accept them on most occasions, so I couldn't imagine them doubled.

Still, I didn't want to push him further than I already had with my arguing. He was the rich one, after all.

"Cass!" The familiar yell sounded from behind. "Break's over. Rear it back in!"

I snickered, knowing too well that Gabby would waste zero time reining me back into her clutches. I must have been so absorbed in my conversation with Cole that I didn't even hear the clock ding.

"Well, that's my cue," I said to him. "Gotta go."

His eyes were cast down as his attention stayed fixed on his phone. Then, he nodded.

"Yep, same here," he told me, shoving the device back into his suit pocket. "Duty calls."

"So when do you get back?"

He stood up with an arched brow, before the apparent realization dawned on him.

"Oh, that. The trip was cancelled, so you'll be seeing this handsome face in about two days at the very least, sweetheart."

I shook my head at his signature moronic grin. Ironically, the one that usually earned him swoons. "Just when I thought I was finally getting rid of you."

"Yeah, you're gonna have to wait till we're using canes for that," he drawled. "And yours, obviously more hideous than mine."

"So disgustingly vain." I smiled and hugged him back, and he wrapped his firm arms around me. All before he intentionally put in more of his weight and added pressure, almost knocking out the limited breath I was already taking in.

"Get...off me, before I kill you."

He only rumbled a laugh and ruffled my hair. I irritably shoved him off.

"See you, baby cakes."

"Make wise choices!" I hollered at his back, and without turning, he responsively flipped the bird.

Then, out the door he went.

__________

"What's taking you so loong?"

I shook my head at the sound of her whiny voice through the phone. For someone who always opted for being the mother in our relationship, she sure as hell could be a two year old when she wanted to.

"Well, Gabby," I spoke up, handing our co-worker, Jenna, a napkin to use. "Some of us actually do have the night shift today. Which means, you know, we generally get home late."

"Okay, tone the smartness down a thousand," she retorted. "I'm hungry."

"Well, you could just start dinner without me." I cursed under my breath as the wet sponge hit the ground. Leaning down, I retrieved the damned item. "I'll heat up the rest when I arrive."

"Unacceptable." I could practically see her defiantly raised chin, and her bare feet pacing the kitchen as we spoke. "You're coming home, and we're eating together. Who else is going to stop me from hurling pasta at fucking Scar?"

I chuckled, remembering we actually did agree to do the thousandth rerun of the Lion King tonight. It really didn't matter how many times Mufasa died, or how many times we relived the damned stampede. Gabby would still toss any crap within reach at Scar's two-dimensional face, all the while cursing out like a heroin ridden sailor. Not to mention, she still often cried about it all.

Like, hid her face behind a throw pillow and full on ugly cried.

I added more effort into keeping the phone pressed between my ear and shoulder, while I rinsed off the last of the plates. "Aha...see? So you better wait up for me."

"Deadline."

"An hour."

"What?" She gaped. "The bus ride is twenty five freaking minutes. And you know that's plus the ten minute walk, if I might add."

I chuckled. "Fine. Be there in forty five—" Just as her complaints began, I quickly chimed in, "with dessert. Bye!"

Before she could say anymore, I had hung up.

"See you tomorrow, Cass!" I heard Jenna holler, as she walked out the doors. Only a glimpse of her blonde braid graced my vision.

"Bye," I uselessly muttered anyway. Knowing her quick feet, she would most likely be out in the streets already. And Darnell, who manned the cash register would undoubtedly be at her heels. Like a dog trailing the scent of bacon.

That left little old me in the restaurant.

Well, not if you counted Shawn, who would be counting the daily earnings in his office by now.

I hung the napkin on the rack, satisfied that another day's hurdle had been successfully completed.

Removing the net from my head, I felt my hair fall down in an overgrown mess of auburn waves. I quickly used my srunchie to pull it all into a swift ponytail.

I grabbed my bag, not forgetting to put the container holding the vanilla muffins in. It was quite a perk of being staff here at Haven. More often than not, we had leftover dessert, and after hours, Shawn gave everyone the freedom to take what they wanted home.

And if the treats were limited, well...it was a battle for the brave.

I turned off the lights on my way out of the kitchen, and was just about to head to his office to tell him goodnight. He apparently beat me to it though, as his tall—albeit, rounded frame came out from the opposite end.

"I figured you were still here."

I hummed in agreement, and silently observed the signature buzz cut never did fail against his dark skin. But the man only arched a brow at me.

"Checking me out now, Matthews?"

I rested my elbow on the counter, offering him a coy grin. "Always, Shawnie."

We both burst out laughing and he playfully flicked my forehead. But amidst our jesting, my eyes made a subconscious sweep across the room. My laughter reflexively died down, and my brows scrunched up immediately I realized it.

Or rather, realized whom.

Apparently, Shawn noticed soon enough as the atmosphere went silent. From the corner of my eye, I saw him follow my gaze to the figure of most likely a man, hunched over one of the tables.

"Dead customer, nine o'clock," I whispered.

"Oh, shut up, whack job," my annoying manager shot back. "He's most likely just asleep."

"Or dead."

Shawn shook his head. The situation was a tad bit humorous, but still, we couldn't help but be cautious. All of this might very well end up being pretence, and the guy could conveniently spring up with a gun at any moment.

Which certainly was not how I would prefer to spend the rest of my night.

"Stay here, and I'll go handle the situation," he instructed.

But just then, we heard a phone ring.

He brought the object out of his pocket, and cursed when he saw the screen.

"Yolanda?" I asked. It was an eighty percent chance I was correct, perceiving the look on his face.

"Yep, the ex wife," he confirmed. "Lola must want to speak to me. We agreed I'd call tonight, and my dumbass forgot."

I nodded. "Then take it. I'll deal with that," I assured him, jabbing my thumb in the direction of the stranger. "I'm really positive he's harmless."

"Well, alright. But confirm first, I'll be here."

Following his order, I walked around the counter and made my way towards the table. It was one of the ones situated in the corner. Not too far from either the entrance, or the register.

I wouldn't be surprised if Jenna and Darnell didn't even notice this man amidst all their blubbering.

Stopping at his chair, I took notice of his knocked out frame. He was slumped across the table, shoulders slowly heaving up and down while he slept.

His large form was clad in a dark suit, and only a very slight portion of his face was visible.

Still, considering all factors, it was more than clear he was no robber. Everything on him looked top notch, down to the designer watch curled around his wrist.

It looked like he actually had a higher chance of getting mugged.

I raised my thumb, signaling to Shawn that there was no danger. Sparing a glance in his direction, he nodded and let himself back into his office.

Which left just Mr. Stranger, and me.

My eyes strayed from his mop of black hair, and down to his outstretched hand. Despite being asleep, his lengthy fingers were clasped around his cellphone, still clenched as though he didn't ever want to let go of the device. As though all would be lost if someone managed to separate his skin from the sleek metal.

I figured we all had our lifelines.

Snapping back into focus, I took a deep breath. Okay. This really was no big deal. All I had to do was wake him up, tell him we were closed, and he would be on his way.

Child's play.

"Excuse me?" I gently tapped his arm. Unfortunately though, his ears didn't even twitch. "Um, excuse me, sir?"

More tapping, no responding.

Well, my death theory couldn't possibly be true since his lungs were working. I would just have to double this up. After all, I still needed to get home—tonight, preferably.

"Hello, sir?"

At my significantly increased volume, and the precise hit on his shoulder, the man shot up instantly.

It was just a shame I forgot how close I was leaning in.

His head forcefully bumped mine, and I yelped at the impact.

Instinctively, I began rubbing my temple, and hissed in irritation as his unsettled gaze shifted around until it focused on me.

Although it was honestly a struggle to focus on nursing my head as soon as his eyes met mine. Richly gray, and silver edged like clouds on a misty afternoon, the stare they gave was unwavering. It was no matter they were still hooded from sleep.

Well, I suspected the currently dim lights didn't help the situation either.

Alright. Safe to say, I did not expect him to be this good-looking.

"Sorry, uh, you slept off, and it's just—" Keep a lid on it, nitwit. I immediately pointed towards the glass doors in the bid to save myself. "We're closed. Yeah, we're closed."

His thick brows immediately raised in understanding, and he muttered a curse as he glanced around.

"Sorry about that." He let out a breath, and raked a hand through his now ruffled hair. "It was a stupid accident."

"It's okay," I quickly chimed in. "I mean, you just fell asleep. It could happen to anyone."

Although the tautness of his jaw, and how his lips remained set in a firm line, let me know soon enough that this was not a very likely position for him to be caught in. If ever.

I adjusted the strap of my bag, and watched him neaten up the slightly spilled out sheets of paper from the leather binder on the table. Once they were all properly restacked, he ran his palm along the length of its spine in one last act of precision. He tucked his cellphone in his pocket, and despite the admitted fluidity of his movements, I just couldn't help but observe how...tired he looked.

Like actual dead looking tired.

Don't speak. Don't speak.

"You know," my persistent mouth ran anyway, "sometimes, work really should just be left there."

His head turned in my direction as he spared me another glance. I actually half expected him to be rash, or say something along the lines of, and that's your business, how?

Because that didn't exactly sound far from what a regular person would say.

Still, he only smoothened out his suit, and stood up. I intuitively took a step back, considering how tall he actually was. His height was more than I had originally assumed, and I was already pretty decent at a five nine.

"That narrative doesn't exactly work in my field," he responded at last, his polished baritone cutting through the tranquil of the scene.

"Perhaps," I said to him. Although at the back of my mind, I wondered why on earth I was still unnecessarily speaking to someone I didn't even know. Telling him things he was most likely already aware of to boot. "But everyone needs breaks. An excessive stretch without one inevitably leads to burn out, and I'm certain you're no exception...I mean, what'll be the point of all the work then, if you can't even get it done?"

"Do you always advice people on how to carry out their activities?"

His brow was arched, supporting his question; almost scrutinizing, actually daring.

And so, I only squared my shoulders.

"No. I guess I'm just a nosy parrot tonight," I evenly stated. "And we both know you really don't have to take what I say. All I'm doing, is saying it."

"I can tell."

A few beats of silence passed, and the entire awkwardness of the situation nearly made the hairs on my neck stand.

Suddenly, his focus left my face and he looked out to the street. An imperceptible expression was set on his face.

"Is there a problem?" I asked tentatively. My focus momentarily shifted outside as well. "You almost look like...like you're hiding something."

Wonderful. My mouth just could not stay shut.

Still, why wasn't he leaving?

"Everyone is." I was a little caught off guard when he answered at last, as I already thought he wasn't even going to. His eyes were on me while he spoke. "And I'm certain you're no exception."

I full on stared at him as soon as the words tumbled out of his mouth. The irony of him replaying my words wasn't lost on me, but he said nothing more as he tucked the binder under his arm, before proceeding to walk away.

As soon as he was at the entrance, I noticed him turn the open sign close.

And then he was out the doors and out of sight.

I wasn't quite sure what just happened, and I truthfully remained conflicted about our little conversation. For a moment, I just stood in the restaurant, with nothing but the faint ticks from the large wall clock offering the slightest trace of sound.

I felt cold.

Taking a deep breath, I rubbed my arms and decided to ignore it. Ignore everything. I definitely couldn't afford to go there, simply by a few words from someone I just met. I was better than that.

Expertly, I blocked out the faint series of recollections threatening to come, and decided to finally go home.

Because there were just some things best left unacknowledged. Things far too costly to think about.