v. in which oliver york finds himself in an interesting turn of events

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"ELLIANA, PUT YOUR clothes back on!" Mom's high-pitched yell resonated through the thin walls of the house. It did nothing to persuade my younger sister to stop running around, stark naked, as she continued mewling like an infant cat.

"Kitties don't wear clothes!" The eight year old retorted, her voice filled with utmost confidence in the fact. Though it was true, I didn't bother pointing out that she was a human girl and not a domesticated feline.

I sat casually at the base of the stairs, my legs tossed from one side to other, blocking entryway to the upstairs quarters. "Elli, listen to Mom." I called to her.

"Meow!" Elliana said in reply.

"Oliver, would you mind moving?" An exasperated voice had me turning to the right and glancing upwards. My father stood on the step above where I was sitting, his hair a mess of frizz and gel. Dressed in a casual suit, his red tie remained in a frenzied knot, looking like it would fall apart at any moment.

"I do mind," said I, reclining even further. "I'm quite comfortable right now." Grinning up at my father, he snorted but smiled in amusement, kicking my side gently but with enough force to push me onto the living room floor. "Hey!"

Shooting me a wink, Dad grabbed his briefcase off the table by the door and swiped his coat from the rack before heading into the kitchen to kiss my mother goodbye. I could still hear Elliana meowing two rooms down, the pitter patter of her feet against the hardwood jarring vibrations that I could feel beneath me.

It was a normal Wednesday morning for the York family, nothing out of usual, nothing out of place. An average life in a more than average world.

I picked myself off the floor, unwrinkling the hem ouf my Smashing Pumpkins tee. Waving to my dad as he passed by and left for work, I made my way to the kitchen. Instantly I was greeted with the familiar smell of lazy mornings. Bacon and eggs were sizzling on the pan my mom was situated behind, her hands both completely occupied.

In one hand, she held the handle of the pan while the other held the phone against her shoulder and ear. Her brown hair was up in a messy bun, and she was still in her pajamas, covered with a fluffy pink bathrobe. Reading glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose, falling by a fraction of an inch every second.

"Charlene sent an email; she says they're rescheduling the book club meeting to Saturday afternoon for brunch. Uh huh. Definitely- oh, good morning, Oliver, dear. There are some pancakes on the table, help yourself. Oh, no, Donna, you can't have any." The words came spilling out of her mouth, and it took a while for the sentences to click in my mind. Half-smiling at her constant disorganization, I nodded in greeting and drifted to a seat at the oak table.

"Oliiiiii!" A loud voice sang just as I was about to reach for the maple syrup just across the table. Glancing up, I saw Elliana barrelling towards my direction, still completely naked, but now decorated in my mother's eyeliner. She had drawn, or attempted to draw, whiskers on her face. Instead, it looked like Elli had been clawed by a cat. "Oli, do I look like a kitty yet?"

"Most definitely," I replied, my mouth full of doughy goodness. I took another bite of the pancakes. Swallowing, I added, "Did you know that cats actually wear clothes? It's called fur, but it's really just a soft carpet that morphed into their skin because they rolled in it too much."

"Really?"

"Yeah." There was a gleam in Elli's eyes as she absorbed my sarcastic information, though her little brain didn't pick up on it. Without another word, she dashed off towards the living room. I shook my head slightly and returned to the pancakes.

"Alright, well, that was Donna." Mom's voice sounded closer and soon she was beside me, sliding the still sizzling bacon and eggs onto my plate. The bacon fell into the excess maple syrup, just how she knew I liked it. I picked at a piece with my fork, glancing up at her as she went to place the empty pan in the sink.

"And what did Donna want?"

"She just wanted to know when the next book club meeting was." Mom returned to take the seat in front of me, folding her hands neatly on her lap. She leaned in close, adding in a dramatic whisper, "I think she already knew but she just wanted someone to talk to." I could understand why; Donna was nice, but she was a little weird in the head. And owning twenty three cats didn't help her case. Elliana liked her though.

"Well aren't you a saint?" I deadpanned.

Chuckling, Mom slapped my wrist lightly but it was still enough to make me flinch. I retracted my left hand, letting it fall limply onto my lap. The impact didn't hurt as much as it would have months ago, but it still had me reeling into unwanted memories.

Mom caught my now sullen gaze and bit her lip. Deciding that now would be a great subject change moment, she quickly asked, "Do you have class today?"

"Not until four." I replied, my voice cool and even despite the anxious wringing of my wrists. I was thankful that she didn't point out my reaction. "I'm meeting up with Cass after my shift."

Mom's smile immediately brightened. My mother adored Cassadee, my closest friend. Back when I was still in the band with my other best friends, though best friends no longer, she was that one chick that always tagged along to gigs. Our number one fan. After the incident, she was the only one that stayed by my side. And for that I was grateful.

"Will she be driving you home?"

I paused, like I always did when she asked about Cass giving me a ride. Managing a small smile, I just nodded but said nothing.

"Alright, well I'll leave you to getting ready. It's already quarter to eleven."

I widened my eyes and shoveled the remaining pieces of pancake into my mouth. "Already?" I asked incredulously through a mouthful of food.

Mom began to chide me on my eating manners but I was already flying out of my chair and up the stairs, a glass of water in one hand which I gulped down as I dashed up the staircase.

By the time I came barreling down, I was fully dressed in the usual white dress shirt and black slacks, and the usual green apron with the Java mascot and coffee kettle flung over my outfit messily. The strings at the back weren't tied yet, flying behind as I sprinted to the door. Grabbing my DC shoes and backpack at the door, I shouted a quick 'I love you, bye!' to my mom and ran out the door in just my socks.

Behind me, I heard my mom scream at my sister and the sound of a pan hitting the floorboards with a crash. "Elliana Marie York, just why are you rolling around on the carpet?!"

With a small smirk, I dashed down the sidewalk, hoping I could make it to my job in time.

I arrived at the entrance to the small, suburban café, breathless and cheeks tinged with pink from the late November frigidness. There was a small crowd huddled a little off to the side, a few checking their watches to see if the time was correct. At the head of the crowd was Christa, her gray hair pulled up tightly into its usual bun, her Java apron over her outdated, flowery dress.

She clucked disapprovingly as she saw me approaching with a sheepish expression, wagging a shaky finger. "Oliver, dear. We've been waiting out here for a half hour already." Her southern drawl was far more noticeable when she was irritated.

I gave a shrug and dug the keys out of my jacket pocket. Christa would have had an except replica if she hadn't lost it a few days prior. Though she was sweet, my boss was very forgetful. My keys jingled as metal hit metal, and I shoved them into the slot, unlocking the doors of my second home.

Christa turned to the small group of people, half patient, half impatient, and gestured them in with a warm smile. The smile disintegrated as soon as the people were inside and she had turned back to me.

"I'm sorry, Christa." I put on my best smile, with just the right amount of guilt and a tinge of sadness. It always worked with her; she could never say no to anything I said as long as I had that expression on my face.

"Oh, don't make that face at me, boy." Christa chided softly. I smirked; she always said that before she added, "Oh, dangflabbit. Just make sure it doesn't happen again."

I saluted her and nodded. She merely clucked again and strutted into the café, her walk a mixture of waddling and the grace of a former model. Following her into the café, the group of people from outside had already situated themselves into a line at the register. I swung around the back of the counter, taking up the spot in front of them.

The first customer was a large man, dressed in a dark business casual suit with a burgundy tie around his neck, tucked beneath the folds of the jacket. He dripped with professionalism and elegance, his dark brown hair slicked back, revealing a Bluetooth device tucked inside his right ear. He was a regular here, I recognized his attire all too quickly.

I put on my best, customer-worthy, dazzling smile. "Hello, and welcome to Java the Hut. May I take your order?"

The rest of the day was pretty much uneventful after the usual morning rush. Men and women in business suits scampering to and fro with cellphones pressed against their ears were Java's important customers. Later on in the day, the high-schoolers would come in to socialize and maybe get a latte or two. But overall, business was slow as usual.

Before I knew it, the clock on the wall over my head read four in the afternoon. I placed the container of whipped cream to my side and finished making a flower in the latte's foam before handing it to the frail, old lady in front of the counter. She gave me a smile, which I returned, before turning to head back to her booth. The bell above the threshold chimed, making me look up and spot André making his way inside.

He entered the café, his white, wool jacket enveloping him and making him look like an obese polar bear. André's head was covered by a large hat that covered his ears and his dark skin glowed with perspiration from the sudden heat of the room. André waved to me, throwing his jacket off onto the coat rack by the door. He was my other co-worker, besides Christa and Myra, a sixteen year old who needed some extra cash for a new car.

Giving him a wave, I began to untie my apron as he began to strap his on. "How's it going, Dré?" I asked, bumping fists with him as soon as he got within distance.

"Eh, not much. The kids still keep me up at night. Jenise makes me go into the nursery to change diapers at three in the morning." André replied, his Jersey accent evident in his drawl. Father of newborn twins, André was well in his early thirties but needed the extra cash to help take care of his family. It was a pretty noble thing to do considering he worked two other jobs.

When I was in class, he was at Java. When I'm at Java, he's either at home or at his other jobs: being a mechanic and waiter. He was pretty much my partner in crime despite the thirteen year age gap.

"You going to class?" André asked, ducking under the counter to get to where I was standing. I nodded in reply, heading to the backroom where employees clocked in and out, and kept their stuff.

When I came out with my belongings and my normal get-up, André was already busy with a customer. I gave him a wave and told him to tell Christa I had clocked out, and then I was out the door.

As soon as the bell chimed overhead and I was hit with an autumn breeze, a familiar figure was already waiting outside.

Her long, light blonde hair, colored like thick honey, was intricately braided, falling neatly down her back. She had on a wool trench coat, a pink scarf wrapped around her neck. An indigo backpack was around her right shoulder. Her cheeks were tinged with pink and her nose was bright red. She hadn't noticed me exiting, so I snuck up behind her and grabbed her shoulders. "Boo."

With a small gasp of exclamation, Cassadee flinched from the sudden fright and when she whirled around accusingly, I saw the warning look in her emerald eyes. The hidden amusement was still clear in their depths - Cass had always been an open book anyway. "Oli," she started, punching my elbow with more force than necessary. "I thought I told you I hated being scared."

"Cass, I told you I loved scaring you and I wouldn't stop any time soon." I countered nonchalantly, taking a step back and shoving my cold hands into the pockets of my jacket. She stuck out her tongue childishly, reaching into my right pocket and grabbing my hand.

"Come on, we're going to be late," Cassadee chided, tugging me along behind her. I let her hold my hand, mindful of the warmth. She swung our arms nonchalantly, going on about mindless chatter consisting of the topic of scholarly females in her Accounting class. "Tiff is pretty cute, don't you think?"

"Her eyes are too big. Like they're staring into your soul and trying to absorb your energy."

"Shut up," Cass rolled her eyes, releasing my hand with a look of betrayal. "I think they're just darling."

"You're the one into her, not me."

"It was wrong of me to assume that you could give me advice on your opposite gender."

"I like girls. I'm not one."

"I like them too, which is why I'm asking for your opinion."

"If you're a girl, then shouldn't you already know what your gender is into?"

"I can't tell if you're being homophobic or sexist right now."

"Neither. I'm like Switzerland. Neutral." She let out a small hmmph and walked ahead, making sure to kick the back of my shins before she did. Shades of red leaves crunched underneath our feet as we made our way down the few blocks to get to our community college: Raritan Valley Community College.

It was actually Cass who introduced me to the college; she was already enrolled when the accident happened. As I mapped out the future after it, I decided to go to community college while I saved up enough to get into Stanford. Though while my family wasn't that poor financially, we still couldn't afford the tuition.

She swung our intertwined hands as we made our way. I yawned, staring up at the grey sky over our heads. Fluffy cumulus clouds floated lazily by and the sun managed to slip through small cracks in their exterior.

By the time we made it up the steps leading to the school's entrance, I was thankful as soon we were in for the warmth. I drew my hand away from hers and gave a wave, "I'll see you in Psych." Cass gave a small salute before darting off to her own group, and leaving me to wallow in my eminent loneliness.

Walking down the hallways, I already missed having Cass, or anyone really, by my side. Besides the Java employees and my best friend, I had no one else. I constantly felt alone in a crowded room. Even as people shouldered past me to get to class, and the loud clamoring of socialization erupted around me, I was lonely.

It had never been that way in high school. I used to have the world in my palms and glory illuminating from my fingertips. I would walk down the hallways and people would part like the Red Sea, as me and the guys would cockily make our way down like royalty. Everything changed though, and karma bit back.

Now I was just... me.

With a small sigh, I adjusted my backpack's weight on my shoulders and flanked right, heading into my first class, Sociology.

I went through the usual cycle; pay attention, do classwork, take notes on the lecture, then finish class and meet up with Cassadee at the end of the day.

Pretty soon, Cass and I were making our way back to Java where I would finish my double shift. Due to the lack of employees and the fact that I was in college, Christa and I compromised that on class days I would work a six hour shift in the morning and then finish the last three hours after class, switching out with either Myra or André. Christa was kind enough to pay me a little extra for the inconvenience, but I never really minded the routine.

I wasn't kidding when I said Java the Hut was my second home. I was there more than I was actually at my house.

We opened the door, making the bell ring then parted our usual ways. Cass took a seat at the booth next to the stage, while I went to get changed in the backroom. After I was back in barista mode, I went behind the counter and started filling out Cassadee's usual order, a strawberry banana smoothie.

Everything was going by exactly like I expected it to. Living an average life like this, the days were a countless cycle, a never-ending circle that was so used to the same routine that when something completely out of the blue happens, it messes up the entire system.

And that's exactly what she did.

After eight until closing time at eleven, hardly anyone showed up at the quaint little suburban café cleverly named Java the Hut. Except her.

The bell chimed, echoing around the desolate room. I glanced up in surprise, my hand freezing its motion from the blender I was currently cleaning out.

She walked in with the grace of a panther, confident and unabashed. Everything about her screamed outsider, but she still had an aura of familiarity with the way she held herself, as if she knew this city inside and out.

The girl let the door behind slam shut, the breeze from the impact jostling her long, wavy locks of brunette, letting it settle messily around her shoulders. In an oversized Ramones tank top that was styled as a dress on her and had the sleeves cut off, it adorned her body, just showing off the lacy black bra underneath. I felt heat inflame my cheeks as I quickly looked away.

I focused on her legs, covered in fishnet stockings leading down to dark combat boots hitting against the tiles of the floor, getting closer and closer to where I was standing frozen behind the counter.

Quickly I darted my focus back to the blender, rinsing out the remaining strawberry bits and forcing the color to leave my cheeks. The footsteps stopped but I didn't dare look up, busying myself with drying the electronic.

I didn't know what was wrong with me; she was just a girl that I had never seen around before until now. Perhaps it was because Somerset was such a small, provincial town that everyone knew each other and each other's cousins, but the feeling of difference in the continuity of my life had me uncomfortable.

"Oi," Her voice graced my thoughts. It was low and gritty, naturally hoarse in a threateningly sweet way. I glanced up, setting the blender down rather roughly behind me. The girl had on a pair of expensive looking aviators so I couldn't tell her expression, but her one eyebrow shot up at my lack of customer service. "This joint is still open, right?"

Even the way she spoke dripped with confidence and attitude. Suddenly irritated by my uncalled nervousness, I put on the usual customer-worthy smile and asked through gritted teeth, "Yes, it is. Welcome to Java the Hut, how may I help you?"

The girl glanced over her shoulder as if she thought she was being followed. Turning back, she inspected the menu board over my head, raising a black-nailed finger to point at one option. "Give me a medium caramel latte, extra whipped cream, caramel, and sugar."

I punched in her order in the register, replying, "That'll be $3.99, please."

Holding a finger up in the universal sign for 'hold on a second,' she reached into her bra and pulled out a wrinkled bill, setting it down in front of my bewildered gaze. Noticing my expression, she gave a one-shouldered shrug, as if to say, 'I can't help it.'

"I can see that." I muttered under my breath, but apparently not low enough for her not to hear. She chuckled, a throaty laugh that was hard to tell if it were fake or sincere. Unfolding the bill in my hands -and trying not to think about how it touched her boobs- I almost gaped at its value.

"By the way, you guys have change for a fifty, right?" The girl yawned as if she were bored. "I only have hundreds and fifties with me right now. And unfortunately," she pointed to the sign over my head. "You don't take credit as a payment option."

I arched an eyebrow at her. No one in Somerset would carry around bills of that value just because it's all they had. That was absurd. "Of course not," I said slowly. "This is a cafe, not a state bank. You'll have to go somewhere else, er-"

"Quinn," she finished, straightening herself. After a bit of contemplation, Quinn just shrugged. "You know what? Keep the change, I just really want my fucking coffee."

"Are you sure?" I asked skeptically. Fifty dollars was a lot of money. Was she insane?

"It's only fifty dollars." Quinn replied like it was nothing, an arrogant scoff followed. Only fifty dollars? That had me bristling, crumpling the bill and shoving it into the cash register.

"Only fifty dollars, eh?" I hissed out in irritation. My anger came in two ways: pent up irritation or rage exploding without warning. The latter seemed to be in effect. "Well I'm sorry not everyone can be as rich as you. Some people actually have to work to get that much money in a month."

That brought a smirk to her ruby lips, as if she was enthralled by the prospect of an argument. "What? People like you?"

"I don't like what you're implying."

"I don't like Obamacare, but hey, we can't always get what we want."

"Are you always this rude?"

"For first impressions, yes. It's a game I like to call, 'how fast can I make people hate me?'"

"What's your fastest time? Zero seconds?"

"Bingo, hotshot."

"You know what? Just take your attitude and shove it up your ass."

"Gladly. Want to help me?" she smirked, leaning in close over the counter. I held my breath; she was so close our lips almost brushed together. I could see through her glasses now; her eyes were a startling shade of smoldering gold.

Pushing her away, I scowled, absolutely disgusted. Any positive thought I had about her from her entrance was now dissolved. Her natural beauty did nothing to hide the ugliness inside. Without another word, I turned my back and quickly prepared her order, deliberately forgetting the extra whipped cream and all that stuff.

"Here." I grunted, sliding the coffee over to her so roughly that some of the contents spilled out and splashed against the counter. She took it and didn't bother inspecting its terrible condition. Quinn blew a sarcastic kiss in my direction and looked down at my chest, focusing on the name tag.

"Thanks again, Oliver." Quinn laughed cynically, and then she was gone.

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#taygetsthegay

Also, the song on the side is Chelsea Dagger by The Fratellis. c:

-Isabelle