Names

Short Story- Part One

Jade

An 8-month relationship in high school is different than an 8-month relationship when you’re 27. Don’t think so? Let me explain why. When I was in high school, I dated this girl for that amount of time give or take. I wasn’t committed, kind of liked her most of the time. But I had options, hell I was only 17. But when I was 27, I broke up with a girl because I thought I still had a lot of options. After months went by and I realized I didn’t, I crawled back to her. When she didn’t take me back, I was terrified. Not only did I ruin my chance with her, but I wasn’t exactly finding anyone to replace her. Well, until hopefully now.

I yanked open the door to my local coffee shop and stood in line. I scanned the menu, or at least pretended to. I wasn’t a fan of coffee, but I couldn’t just stay here for hours without buying anything. There was barely anyone in here; a few tired customers, two baristas, and of course, her in the back.

My order was a simple black coffee. If I was going to try to talk to her for a few hours, I had a feeling I would need something stronger than the mocha that I’m sure was in her cup. I could feel her eyes on me while I waited for the overpriced coffee. I’d make glances back towards her here and there, show her I had some interest while not being too overbearing. She was attractive enough. Cared a lot about her appearance and did everything she could to get a few minutes of attention from guys. I was a few feet away from her, yet I could still tell she had fake eyelashes, dirty blonde hair that had extensions, and clothes so tight they left nothing to the imagination. She tried to stand out, but that’s what drew me to her. She was a try-hard, so I wanted to show her why she wouldn’t do that anymore.

I grabbed my steaming cup and sat down in a booth a few away from her. Her attention was peaked, her eyes glancing above her laptop to see what I was doing. I sat around for a few minutes, casually sipping on my bland coffee while scrolling through my phone. Her eyes kept darting up, and after the fifteenth time in ten minutes, I got up and slid into her booth. Her pens and papers were scattered across the grimy table like she was trying to seem busier and more intelligent than she actually was.

Her eyes widened underneath the fake prescription glasses she had on. She slowly took them off, setting them on a stack of paper on the table before she said. “Can I help you?” She was confident, blunt, and probably was annoyed that a more attractive guy didn’t sit down and that I did instead. Hogging up her booth, when in actuality there were no other guys in here other than the male barista in the back. But he was paying more attention to his phone than the orders. And with how many times she looked in my direction, I knew it wasn’t a coincidence. She was playing hard to get when we both knew that wasn’t the case.

“Just saw you across the room and had to come over.”

“And why is that?” She leaned back against her booth, dragging her drink along the table before taking a long swig of it with a smirk.

“So, what brings you here to this coffee shop, Jade?” Jade narrowed her eyes before I pointed to the label on the side of her drink. She got a pumpkin spice latte. Looks like I guessed wrong about the mocha, but just from that I could tell she was more basic than I originally thought she was.

“Work.” She said simply, uninterested in divulging anything else. I nodded and just stared at her, hoping the prolonged awkward silence would spark her to give me something else to work with. I could tell she was still debating whether or not to kick me out of her booth, but as I said before, she liked attention, so she asked, “Now, what brings you here, Sam?” She was proud of herself, playing the same trick I did on her. She crossed her arms across her chest, glancing down at her unlocked phone that’s buzzed more than several times since I’ve sat with her. She was the type of girl who would talk behind her friend’s back. At least that’s what her text messages implied. Gossiping to one friend to another, running the thin line of accidentally texting the wrong one. I suppose that gave her a rush because that’s all she did on that cracked phone of hers in between waiting for my long-anticipated answer.

“Trying to get some inspiration.”

She perked up at that, her eyes lighting up as she focused her attention on me.

“What for?”

“Work.” Two can play at this game, this frustrated her a little bit. But not enough as she probed, “And what do you do?” she asked, I clicked my teeth, shaking my head.

“Gotta tell me what you do first, only fair.” She mocked me and shook her head with a smile.

“I’m a writer…” She trailed off as though I would judge her.

I feigned interest and widened my eyes. “No way, really?”

She scooted forward and tilted her head slightly, before saying, “I work over at Daily Journal a few streets over.”

“What a coincidence. I work over at Wiley and write some articles for them.” I rolled my eyes internally. Did I really work there? Of course not. No, that’s what she wanted to hear. All girls want is someone they can relate to; it makes them feel more at ease to trust a stranger. That’s how you hook them in, and from the looks of it, it was starting to work on her.

Now, I didn’t even have to ask her any more small-talk questions, she wanted to lead the conversation. “I generally work as a freelancer, but right now I’m contracted at the Daily Journal for the next few months.”

“Seems like you must be a damn good writer to be a freelancer.” I responded. She had a slight blush spanning her cheeks with this comment, but I could tell she was willingly bringing heat to her cheeks to seem modest. In reality, she was more than likely a bragging bitch that likes to gloat about her small, and I mean small, accomplishments she’s had in recent years. I know it looks like I’m making a quick judgment about her, but hey I could be wrong. She laughed me off, waving her hand around as if she was letting her guard down to me.

“I’m sure you are as well.” She winked.

We went back to her apartment a few minutes later, she eagerly packed her things up, crumpling her papers up in her small pink purse as she scooted out of the booth, linking her small arm around mine as she directed us there. Her apartment was about what I expected it to be, quaint but vibrant. Pictures all over the brightly colored walls, a cluttered but neat mess with random decor on the shelves along with a few meaningless awards that caught my eye. Okay, they didn’t really, but I knew she would make a fuss out of it if I didn’t at least bring it up. So, I pointed at the awards she presented so proudly on those tiny shelves and asked, “Where’d you get these from?”

“Oh those?” She plopped down on the couch, drinking the last bit of her coffee as she sat with her legs crossed, a grin playing on her delicate face. She explained each one in excruciatingly long detail, the grin on her face widening as it took all that it was in me to not scoff at her narcissistic monologue. They were basically departmental awards, encouraging her to stay in her shitty position, and praising her for work that high school students could do. But they’ve worked for her this long, I guess. I kept eye contact with her, portraying interest while I was feeling anything but.

My fingers ran along the random assortment of books she had lined up while she glanced up at me, curiosity playing across her green eyes. “So, why is today the first time I’ve seen you at that coffee shop?” She asked, wrapping her arms around a pillow that was lying on her chest, her eyes motioning for me to join her instead of across the room like I had been. I sat down carefully, the fading brown couch clearly not big enough for the both of us as my legs and ass half hung off, while she sat with her legs crossed underneath her, much more comfortable than I was.

“I was sick of sitting at my desk back at the office, I guess. It’s an old stuffy building, with no scenery whatsoever. So, I thought what better place to change things up than a coffee shop to people watch? Maybe gain some inspiration rather than staring at a white wall for eight hours a day.”

She sat up, giving me more room as she moved her legs to the side. “That’s why I go there too. But I used to work here at home, and I couldn’t get anything done and be productive. I’d just lay in bed and fall asleep.” She laughed, leaning her head on her hand that was resting on the couch.

“I could tell you liked that coffee shop; I’ve seen you there for the past few weeks.”

She narrowed her eyes and scooted farther back onto the couch like it was supposed to give herself some distance. But in reality, all it did was signify that she was closing herself off from me. I sighed internally. Dammit, I might have blown it. I quickly backtracked, seeing the gears in her brain close off more the longer I remained silent. I sucked in a breath and let my pride loose by telling her that I’d walked past it a few times. Nobody but her was really in there or looked quite as beautiful so I noticed her, considering she sat in relatively the same spot. After that embarrassing cover-up, she still looked nervous. So, I continued on babbling that I was nervous around her and spoke before I should and that’s she beautiful. I can’t really go wrong with complimenting her twice.

Here’s a quick tip, don’t raise suspicion like I did. Try to reassure the best you can, but sometimes you’ll just have to cut your losses like I was about to. Luckily, she bought it and perked up again once I complimented her and called her beautiful. Twice. Which wasn’t a lie at all, but I wasn’t expecting her to forget what I said not even a minute before and throw caution to the wind and kiss me.

But there you go, that’s how you fix it. Compliment her.

She pulled away a few minutes later, both of us a little too out of breath as a wide smile grew on her face.

I stayed for a while, a lot longer than I was expecting or hoping. She kept talking about herself like I thought she would. After what must’ve been only twenty minutes but felt like hours, she seemed at a loss of what else to brag about. Her personal life wasn’t exciting, so I could see why she chose to sit in the coffee shop for hours on end. And if you wanted to know, I wasn’t wrong. She went on and on about her career “accomplishments,” but really only consisted of her coworkers using a Word doc and searching for certificates, and those trophies were store-bought and still had the tags on them. She’s got some confidence though; I’ll at least give her that.