Wait to get dressed and go get some coffee.

Grabbing a decaf caffe mocha, with whipped cream and chocolate syrup (hey, what can I say, I'm all girl), I sat down at a corner table and checked out a dog-eared copy of the newspaper. Anyway, I was just idly reading about the Milwaukee Dodgers or something, when I heard a soft voice coming out of the photograph of Michael Jordan.

"Hi, mind if I sit here? The place is pretty packed and strangers have to share tables." I looked around, and except for the girl making coffee, the place was devoid of bottoms to sit in the many empty chairs. I looked around Michael Jordan, and saw a 20-ish brunette with really short hair, and an outfit more or less like mine, except a green top to my blue one. And a big, cute, grin.

"Uh, sure, go ahead," I said. She settled herself, and stuck out her hand.

"Hi, I'm Jeanette. Jeanette Royston," she said.

"Uh, I'm Annie, uh, Barlow." I took her hand and shook it. Nice firm grip. And warm, too.

"So, what brings you here?" she asked. "I'm here to get some studying done, can't do it at my apartment, neighbors. Too loud. Know what I mean?"

"Uh, yeah, I know what you mean. I'm just trying to relax a little before I go out later tonight," I replied.

"Huh, I would've guessed differently, if you don't mind my saying so," Jeanette said.

"Really, like how?" I said.

"Well, you've got a really pissed off look on your face for one thing. For another, you look like you just got out of bed before you came here. My guess would be that you're pissed off at your boyfriend. Or girlfriend," she continued.

"Boyfriend," I said. "I don't go the other way."

"Too bad," she said. "I do. You wouldn't be leaving my bed pissed off." I guess my face turned really red, because she then said, "There, I've gone and done it again. My big mouth. Look, I'm sorry for butting in…"

"No, it's okay. Yeah, it's a boyfriend problem. He's a crappy lover, and I'm more mad at myself for settling. But, what did you mean about going the other way? Are you a, uh, lesbian?" I had been kind of curious about that whole thing, and I didn't know any gay girls, or at least didn't know any who were openly gay.

"Well, probably, but I have been bi in my recent past, so I guess that's what you'd call me. Bi. But, why don't you call me Jeanie?" She flashed me a lovely smile, and I noticed her light green eyes, turned up nose, and light splash of freckles across her nose. She looked like a nice person, and talking to someone nice, even if gay, was more attractive than reading an almost day old paper.

"If you don't mind my asking, what's it like to be attracted to girls?" I ventured, but even as I asked my face was turning a shade of light scarlet again.

Jeanie didn't seem to notice, and answered my question seriously. "It's not really different than being attracted to guys. Only, you're looking at other things, like breasts, and cute face, cute butt-, no, that applies to guys, too, uh, how she dresses, how she smells, a superior sense of humor-"

"Okay, I get it, I think. Gays aren't really different, just attracted to different people, huh?" I said.

"Yes, I think that's about it," Jeanie replied, with a cute grin. We went on like that for some time, and I was pleased that I'd met someone that I could talk to, who was funny and smart. We exchanged numbers, and I thought that I'd made a new friend, not easy to do in this urban area. I said I had to get back, and said goodbye. She looked a little wistful as I walked out the door.

I was beside my car, looking for my car keys in my jeans pocket, when I suddenly saw a bright light in the back of my eyes, followed by a sharp pain in my scalp. I half turned around, and saw a dirty, unshaven man, maybe 40 years old, holding a stick and getting ready to hit me with it again. He was mumbling something I couldn't make out, when I saw a flash of light green flying across the parking lot, then the man going flying. I slumped down against my car, and the next thing I knew, Jeanie was holding my hand, and gently patting my cheek.

"Hey, Annie, are you okay? Did that guy hurt you?" The look in her eyes was one of concern, tempered with anger. "I'll call 911, just sit tight." The paramedics and police came, and took our stories, though I don't think I was much help. Apparently, this vagrant had been haunting the neighborhood, and bashing women and stealing their purses. I had no idea what he thought he'd get from me. The ambulance took me to the hospital, where they pronounced my injury "not serious." Jeanie had come along, for which I was grateful.

After I was discharged after one hour's observation, I was at a loss as to what to do. I felt like I should go back to my boyfriend's, but didn't feel like explaining how I came to be somewhere other than his bed. My only other option was to go back to my place, and make up some story tomorrow for him.