The two sat in their favorite café, Peace & A Cup of Joe. It sat next door to an outpatient clinic and an abandoned refrigeration reclamation center. There were two flags with the location’s name dangling from the windows and seating outside for sunny days. The café was located on West Pratt St on the Inner Harbor Side of MLK Blvd.
On the second floor, Rob sat on a tan couch, with pillows stacked behind him, facing a 50 inch LED television tuned to a muted soccer game. Jennifer sat curled up next to him, his arm around her shoulders, and her feet tucked up under her. She reached up and touched his face, lightly caressing the white square of gauze on his cheek. He glanced down at her with a faint smile on his face. “You did good, Jennifer. With the werewolf, Soul Eater and the first aid. I’m proud of you.”
She returned a small smile of her own. “Of course you are. I’m amazing.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed. “That’s my little ego maniac.” She giggled, but before she could respond, the owner of the café brought up their lunch order. Jennifer had ordered The Power Plant, a sandwich with mushrooms, avocado spread, red onions, assorted bell peppers, sun dried tomatoes and field greens. She’d requested a side of fresh tomato slices as well. Rob had went the decidedly less healthy route – according to her – of The MLK sandwich. It consisted of grilled sirloin covered in a savory marinade, topped with cheddar cheese, sautéed red onions and assorted peppers, bacon and dressed with a chipotle aioli sauce. The owner had his name on a tag, but neither needed to read it any longer: they were long time customers of Themar Long’s establishment. The tall owner asked if there was anything else he could get for them. Jennifer smiled and shook her head. “No, Mr. Long, I think that will be all for now. Thank you, sir,” Rob said.
“All right,” Mr. Long said in his melodious voice. He then went through the door at the top of the steps and back downstairs.
She waited until Rob had taken a bite of his sandwich and stole one of his chips. He responded by gently poking her in her ribs. Hitting this ticklish spot caused her to giggle and spray partially chewed chip on her plate. “You asshole.”
He chuckled and took a swig of his soda. She poked his ribs, hoping for the same reaction. He swallowed and groaned instead, reminding her too late of his bruised side. “Oh, shit, Worth! I’m sorry! I forgot!”
Rob chuckled through the pain. “Gee, thanks. I love you, too,” he said dryly.
“Shut up,” she said.
She tugged on his chin until he locked his dark eyes on her lighter ones, then she kissed him. After several seconds, she pulled back with a smile. When he made to kiss her again, she held him back with her hand on his chest. She noted that he didn’t lean too much into her. “Now you should feel no pain.”
“A second not kissing you is like a year without rain,” he said, misquoting a Selena Gomez song.
She rolled her eyes. “Now I have to take your man card.”
He laughed and pulled Jennifer to her feet. “It’s in a pocket at the back of my neck.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. Rob dipped his head to kiss her again when someone came through the door at the top of the stairs. “Aw. Isn’t this cute,” a deep, raspy voice said, causing Jennifer to turn away in embarrassment. Rob glared over at the interloper. Jennifer titled her head to see who he was giving such a dirty look to.
He was a rangy, ruggedly handsome guy with dark chocolate eyes and a huge grin. He had shoulder length, whiskey colored hair and a well-kept Vandyke. He was dressed in a black leather duster, scarlet dress shirt, ebony Lagna Beach jeans and onyx Lucchese 1883 cowboy boots. This outfit was topped off with a dangling silver skeleton earing in his left ear and a platinum necklace with a stylized wolf pendant.