I have been hiding in the back of the cafe, occasionally peeking around the corner where Jackson and Daphne seem to be having a thought provoking conversation. It has been an hour and a half since they say down and have spent the latter of the time talking. I have been hiding, like a freak, doing all I can to avoid going back out there. Is there really that much to talk about? Couldn't they do this somewhere else?

I breathe a sigh of relief as the group abandons their seats, heading for the exit. I slink behind the wall as Daphne's eye scan the room for me. I feel bad for avoiding her but I have no interest in being forced to partake in their conversation. I envy Aaron and his ability to drown out the world simply by staring blankly at a screen for hours on end. It must be nice to have no worries.

"Omera," my boss Cameron calls from his office," Go ahead and take off for today. Casey is pulling a double and you've pretty much done your duties for the day. I'll see you Thursday night!"

He doesn't have to tell me twice. I swipe my time card and toss my dirtied apron into the pile by the door. I glance at my watch, seven p.m. For once I am off early enough to have some free time before my eleven p.m. curfew. I may be lacking a social life but that does not mean I don't enjoy having a few free hours each weekend to aimlessly roam the crowded streets of Portland.

In typical Oregon winter weather, it is a lovely 52 degrees outside. I bundle myself up in my hoodie, making my way through large groups of people as I head towards the bookstore closest to the shelter. A gust of warm air greets me as I enter the small building. The guy on duty looks up from behind the counter, his brows furrow at the sight of me. Yes, I think to myself, I am here again.

Tossing my jacket onto the old leather sofa positioned in the back the bookstore I flop down onto its soft cushions. I flip open the pages of Catcher and the Rye, my novel of choice for this week, letting myself sink into the corner of the couch. I place the headphones of my newly recovered Ipod into my ears, letting the music blast loudly.

"I'll try my best, how much do I invest. Like cardiac arrest, high voltage in her lips. I'll try my best, how much do I invest? Like cardiac arrest, high voltage when we kiss."

I nod my head to the soft beat of the song, allowing myself to finally relax. This place, full of books and the faint smell of old paper, is my sanctuary. Tourists come in and out of the building but never make it back as far as the Classics Section. They are too busy buying maps of the city and asking repetitive questions about the best places to eat. Here I am alone and unbothered. Here I don't have to pretend to be normal.

A shadow blocks the lighting as someone stands over me. I close the book, expecting to see the boy from the counter there to lecture me about never really buying anything here. I have not seen him here before so I am assuming he is not familiar with the fact that I will not ever be buying anything. The state takes just enough of my check to pay for the "essentials" of housing me, leaving me with about fifty bucks per check to either save or spend.

Life is not kind enough for it to be the register boy standing over me. Jackson stares down at me, sipping what appears to be a freshly refilled cup of coffee.

"What, are you like stalking me now?" I groan as I place the book next to me. He chuckles mildly and shrugs his shoulders.

"Pretty much," he answers. Okay, well that was blunt. I was expecting a much different answer and, now that he has responded, I am at a loss for words. I opt for the next best option, letting my mouth hang open as I gawk at him.

"Come to insult me again?" I ask as my mouth finally decides to corporate, "Or maybe you've come to tell me my kind isn't allowed here." Jackson frowns, taking a long sip from the steaming cup.

"Yea, about last night." He runs his fingers through his tousled hair. "Sorry about that. I had too much to drink. Dark liquor makes me mouthy."

Typical 'the booze made me do it' response. If I had a dollar for every time some guy tried to play off being a douche simply because he was drunk, I would have at least a hundred bucks by now. Maybe I should start charging per excuse.

"Is that all?" I ask, opening the book back up. I stare intently at its pages, hoping he will take the hint and go away.

"Your friend said you'd be difficult." I silently curse Daphne and her need to play matchmaker all the time. Of course she told him where to find me. She probably drew a detailed map just in case he got lost on the way.

"Let me make it up to you." Jackson takes the seat next to me, once again invading my personal space. I scoot over, putting some distance between us. "Let me take you to dinner or something."

I mull over the thought. My stomach growls in agreement with his offer. I did skip breakfast...and lunch. Shit, I cant' remember the last time I ingested something that wasn't coffee. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Worst case scenario, he turns out of be a bigger creep than I originally assumed and, in that case, I could always bolt.

"Fine," I agree. I grab for my hoodie, sliding it over my head. Jackson grins into his cup, taking another sip. "But I get to choose the place."

(song playing on the Ipod: Bad Suns "High Voltage")