Cathy and Mike

"You’re not from around here, are ya?" The girl asked, making conversation.

"Yeah. Lived here all my life. We got a place out back of Trona."

"How come I never seen you before?" She leaned over the counter in front of him, wiping it with her rag.

Mike’s mind went into overload, for she seemed to like him just a bit. Hearts are sensitive to that sort of thing.

"Nah. She is just bored out here, nothing to do but talk to a dumb kid for a customer." He thought to himself. He was trying to get his hormones under control here, and be a gentleman, --and especially to control his rising blush in her presence.

"-So, who’s Mac?" He lamely asked.

"He’s my uncle. But he hardly ever comes out here anymore. Pete runs the place, along with his gas station."

"Why are you here?" Mike then almost blushed, as the overly direct questioned popped out of his mouth.

She only grinned. "My name is Cathy Ruggles, thanks for asking, by the way. I work out here ‘cause it’s a summer job, and there aren’t any in town right now. ‘Sides, I know the owner, so its not too hard of a job."

"I’m Mike. . . Stafford" It was all he could say, as he held his cup with both hands, wishing he had more experience talking to a girl. He really felt awkward. He wanted to say more. A lot more. Yet like so many kids, he just didn’t know the words.

"That’s a really nice Mustang you got there, Mike. It’s brand new, isn’t it?" Cathy grinned again, partly because she liked how red he was turning every time she did. They were about the same age, she figured, but she instinctively knew she was much older than he was, and she liked having some control over their little situation.

"Sure. I just bought it. You wanna see?" Mike put his cup down, forgotten. He didn’t drink coffee anyway. He began to walk to the door.

Cathy saw the old guy in the booth, reading his paper, his plates empty. He was the only other person in the café. "He wouldn’t be needing anything." She shrugged, and took off her apron, walking around the counter to follow Mike outside.

Mike stood proudly beside his car, glad he had just waxed it and had it cleaned out inside. He tried to lean against the fender like some cool movie hero, crossing his arms, but he just felt awkward inside, and thought it showed.

He watched her as she walked around the Mustang, looking in. She cut a fine figure, he thought to himself. The only light was the bulb up on the utility pole between the café and the gas station, but it caught the reflection of the bright yellow paint of his car, and her soft red hair obtained a sweet glow from it.

"You can sit in it if you want. I got a stereo. You like the Beatles?" Mike wore a big happy grin, as he opened the passenger door for her.

Cathy smiled, but shook her head. "I got to work some more tonight. -But I get off soon. Maybe you could take me for a ride. I like new cars." She also wore a grin. One that had Mike’s adrenalin pumping and made his throat dry.

"Sure." That was all he could say.

Pure hearts know, don’t they. Somehow they know when they meet someone else of a pure heart. Love happens all too easy, but that is supposed to happen that way, when pure hearts meet. Nothing need to be said, and nothing said ever matters that much. The heart just knows.