by Ellie Danes
Chapter 6
Kate
Fucking Starbucks. I felt like the place was starting to feel like a bad dream.
Everything was the same. Same smell. Same crowd yelling at someone keeping up the line; which was ridiculous, just like always.
I wasn’t even sure how we’d ended up there, to be honest. I knew he wanted to accompany me back to my apartment, which was sort of sweet, but also maddening. I was a grown woman and perfectly capable of making it home on my own. Not that I minded Craig’s company. I didn’t. I minded the fact that I was still upset and had to come up with things to say when, in all reality, I just wanted to say nothing. To be alone. I just wanted to be inside my own head. Especially because I had no idea what I was feeling and all I wanted to do was figure it out quickly before I went insane.
Craig was a good-looking, successful, sweet guy. Best of all, he wasn’t full of himself like a certain asshole that weighed on my mind. No, Craig was the kind of guy women wanted to bring home to meet their parents. I had wondered many times how the guy was still single. Until I realized that he’d wanted to ask me out, but couldn’t just get to the point. He wasn’t confident enough. But maybe that was a good thing… at the moment, the last thing I needed was Craig asking me out. My heart was in too much of a mess as it was.
“What do you think Claire’s feeling about all of this?” The sound of Craig saying Claire’s name brought me fully back from the thoughts whirling about in my head.
“Uh…” I stammered. I had no fucking clue what he meant. What was he even asking? Feel about what? Part of me felt angry with myself for not having any idea what he meant, another part felt completely embarrassed. “I’m so sorry; could you repeat the question?”
“We can do this another time, if you’re not feeling well…” he trailed.
I smiled faintly up at him. “Now is fine,” I assured him. I felt bad that I wasn’t paying more attention to what he was saying. I felt worse for why I wasn’t. Damn Ian Cross and the hold he had over me.
“What can I get for you guys?” The gorgeous blonde cashier asked, glancing up with a pleasant smile.
“Grande Mocha Latte,” we both called out.
“Two?” she asked, a wide smile. “Or one?”
“Two,” Craig said.
We’d ordered the same thing — at the same exact time. “So much for ‘Ladies first,’” I scoffed jokingly, trying to get back in the conversation and in the present.
“You’re an independent type, didn’t think you’d care about that sort of thing,” he laughed, throwing a wink at me.
The lady at the register smirked, “You guys are cute,” she said. And immediately I felt a blush rush to my cheek, and I looked at him, and I could tell that it’d done the same to him. “Names?”
“Craig and Kate,” he said before draping an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close.
I stiffened.
I didn’t know what he thought it was accomplishing. I didn’t know if he’d been suddenly granted more confidence by the cashier girl or if he wanted to give her a show… but whatever the reason, it was freaking me out.
I cleared my throat and bundled away from his arm, under the pretense that I was gathering a sleeve for my coffee.
“Thank you, for making sure I got home safely,” I said to him through what I could only guess was vaguely unfocused eyes. But I wanted to change the subject. I wanted to avoid the fact that I’d very much just pulled away from contact with him.
“It wasn't a problem,” he replied. It seemed like he was fighting a smile.
“It's really nice of you. Really,” I said. It was. It was nice of him. The nicest, actually. No matter how much of a wrench it’d thrown into my plans of going home and going to bed early.
“Truth is, I had my reasons. Have you been okay?” he asked. “You seemed sort of spacey at the meeting… and that’s not like you. You’re always very proactive when it comes to Claire.”
He was right. I wasn’t being myself. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately,” I replied lamely as we shuffled through the swarm of people. There was one table off in the distance where a couple was just starting to stand up to leave.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked sweetly as we sat down. His tone was soft, innocent and caring. I could see how he was a therapist. “Free of charge…”
I smiled. “That would be a first!”
He brought the grande-sized cup away from his lips and clutched at his heart with his free hand. “That hurts!” he said in a false offense, his laugh betraying him.
“What does that say about me, Doctor? That I’m trying to hurt others because I, myself, am hurting?” I smirked.
“Are you hurting?” he asked, his tone getting serious as he leaned forward in his chair.
“Nice try, therapist!” I laughed. “But seriously, about Claire, what do you think the best option is?”
“Well,” he said, bringing the cup to his lips once again to take a small sip. “I think you’re doing everything right. We’ll just continue to be proactive and work with her, see if the private tutor works under the supervision of the school’s therapist.”
He set his coffee cup down and smiled, “And we’ll continue to have sessions every week; and we’ll see what’s going on beneath the surface.”
“Is there anything that jumps out at you?” I asked, taking the first drink from my own coffee. It was like chocolate heaven. I fucking loved Mocha Lattes. I hadn’t been to a Starbucks since Ian sent me that text.
“I can’t talk about our therapy sessions,” he laughed.
“I know. But I can’t help but feel that maybe she feels like I’m abandoning her by moving across the country.”
“Do you feel like you’re abandoning her?” He leaned forward again, his stare set on me.
“Wow, you can tell you’re a therapist! Do you ever answer any questions?” I was amused, I had to admit, but also a little annoyed. I sincerely wanted to know if my moving would affect her. I’d talked to her about it before, and she’d told me that she knew — out of everyone — that I’d always be there for her. But if that was the case, then why had she felt the need to cut herself for attention?
He laughed. “Do you want me to answer questions?” I wasn’t sure if he was flirting or if he was just being funny, but I couldn’t help but smile.
“Maybe…” I honestly wasn’t sure if I was flirting either. Maybe, deep down, I needed a little flirting. Maybe I needed a little self-imposed therapy and the good doctor was just the man to fill the prescription.
Chapter 7
Ian
“I really need some fucking coffee,” I slurred out loud to myself after downing an entire fifth of whiskey in just over half an hour
I walked over to the coffee pot, pulled the K-cup cartridge open, and reached for the container of pods just next to the machine. Only, there weren’t any.
I sighed. “Fucking forget it…” I groaned as I lazily stumbled and fell onto the couch. I pulled a thick blanket from the back and eased my head onto a pillow. I needed to lie down for a second…just one…second.
I wriggled a bit, attempting to get comfortable, but I knew it would be impossible.
I was never completely content with the size of the ultra-modern sofa my dad had purchased. It was comfortable, and it might have been big to some people, but it wasn’t nearly big enough for my liking. I smirked, I was actually really surprised Kate and I had done so well on it the night we finally made love.
My smirk turned to a wince at the memory... I hadn’t laid on it — or even sat on it — since that night, and now, as I nuzzled the pillow close, I caught a whiff of an unfamiliar, yet completely familiar scent.
I nuzzled the pillow again and sighed happily. Kate. It was her shampoo. I was sure of it. “Goddammit…” I grumbled as I drifted off. I couldn’t get that damn redhead off my mind.
The next thing I knew, I was being jolted awake as a loud noise echoed through my empty apartment.
I sat up, alert, eyes scanning the darkened room. There was nothing there.
I contemplated the likelihood of being able to go back to sleep; to sleep long and hard until morning, but I knew that my attempt would have likely been in vain. It was still fairly early in the evening.
Now I really needed coffee . . . and painkillers for the massive headache from the whiskey.
I was about to go in search of the painkillers when my phone vibrated. My drunken — and incredibly heavy — body moved quickly to it. I swiped at the screen, my heart full of.
A text message. From Janice. Reminding me of everything I needed to do tomorrow.
Part of me was hoping for it to be Kate after seeing her in the lobby. I should have known better.
I groaned. I desperately needed that coffee. And since I didn’t have any, that meant Starbucks. I glanced over at the LED read out on my DVR. It was still open.
I didn’t even really remember getting ready. I just remembered walking — or rather, partially stumbling — down the street, without a coat or anything. By the time Starbucks finally came into view, the cold had brought me out of my fog a little.
Part of me wanted to see her standing on the curb just in front of it, waiting for me. I wanted things to be right in the universe and I wanted to not have been such a dumb shit by letting her go. But that part of me was an idiot and the rest of me knew that was never going to happen.
I made my way to the front door through the crowd of coffee-drinkers standing around outside and grabbed hold of the handle. I sighed, pleasantly, and a smile finally started to form on my face. That oh-so-familiar aroma of coffee hit me as soon as I pulled the door open and took a step into the warmth of the building. That wonderful, roasted smell of the coffee bean was almost nostalgic; and sure as hell something I’d grown accustomed to. The aroma alone was almost enough to sober me up a bit. I’d made the right call. Coffee was exactly what I needed.
I was starting to somewhat gain at least a semblance of a level head. At least, enough so that I could finally start to think more clearly. And now that I was, I honestly couldn't believe I’d actually gotten to Starbucks completely unscathed.
I took another deep breath, savoring the smell once again. It was almost like that smell was what I’d wanted all along; like that was what it was that I craved. And if I were being honest, that wouldn't have been a stretch. I missed the smell. It intoxicated me.
Just like the scent of her shampoo on my pillow, the smell of roasted coffee beans reminded me of her. I took my place in line and focused on the person straight ahead of me until it was my turn to order.
“What’ll it be, sir?” the young kid behind the counter squeaked in what seemed like a hardly pubescent voice.
“I’ll have a Venti Caramelized Honey Latte with 1% milk, extra hot, extra foam, two pumps of caramel, one pump vanilla, extra whip, cinnamon and extra honey on top.” Honestly as soon as it left my mouth I remembered how much of an asshole order that was, and was pretty surprised that I was even able to communicate that much information in my whiskey induced state.
“You got that?” I asked the boy still writing on my cup with a black sharpie at lightning speed.
“Yes, Sir,” he smirked, a little more confidently than I’d expected. He was so young looking; it looked like he’d shit himself if someone asked for anything more complicated than was on the menu. But he’d written quite the list — only problem, it was in Starbucks language.
“Read it back?” I smirked, challenging him.
He did. Precisely as I’d delivered it.
I smiled. “Nice!” I replied, finally able to smile at something for the first time that night. I held my hand up for the young man to give me a high-five, and I didn’t care what kind of idiot it made me look like. I was impressed.
He smiled wide, as if no one had ever complimented him on anything, his cockiness faded, and followed through on the high-five before he asked for a name.
“Ian,” I said before I slid my card and walked over to wait on my drink. While I was waiting, I did something instantly wished I hadn’t.
I looked to the back of the coffee shop, hoping to find a free seat. I didn’t need to venture back out yet. I needed to sit my ass down and drink a couple of Venti coffees before I headed back home.
But when I scanned the back corner, I immediately felt my heart stop.
She was there.
At our place.
With her date. The date she’d told me about earlier that night.
Chapter 8
Kate
Craig sipped his coffee and sighed almost pleasantly as we continued to rehash the meeting from less than an hour earlier.
“So, I found out I’d gone out on a date with a friend of yours the other day,” he laughed.
My brows rose. I didn’t have many friends. “Oh?” I asked, uncharacteristically curious.
“Your friend, Megan. We went out for coffee,” he mused, gesturing to our cups. “She’s a bit of a social media nut. So, while we were sitting at the table, she pulled out her phone and added me to Facebook. Turns out, we had you in common. She noticed that and our entire ‘date,’ if you could call it that, shifted gears.”
“Really?” I asked. “How so?”
He leaned forward, a confident smirk suddenly visible on his face. His eyes squinted playfully to look at me as if he was honing in on something, and his smirk turned into a devilish smile. “Well, the rest of it was spent talking about you.”
“Whatever she said I did, it’s probably a lie,” I giggled, almost flirtatiously. Megan was always a bit of a drama queen; but I knew she’d never say anything bad about me. After all, there wasn’t a whole lot to tell. “Okay, fine,” I rolled my eyes playfully. “I guess some of it might be true.” I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I was about as straight of an arrow as they came. There was no way in hell she had anything on me that I actually cared about getting out — not anything true.
“She didn’t say anything bad about you, actually,” he chuckled. “I guess I sort of steered the conversation towards you…if I’m being honest.”
I blushed and crossed my arms protectively across my chest. I wasn’t sure what he’d meant, or what my body language meant. I didn’t know if it was my subconscious telling me to tread lightly because I’d just had my heart broken and was vulnerable, or if I was completely against his advances — which is what I could tell they were.
I doubted that’s what it was though, if I was being honest. Because I’d actually started the flirting. I’d honestly engaged him. And the whole time I’d been waiting on him to make some sort of move.
I mean, what the hell? Did I want Craig? I didn’t know. I did know one thing, though. Even if I had wanted Craig’s attention, sadly I wanted Ian’s more.
Craig was actually a strong, sturdy, good guy. I’d only thought that was the sort of man Ian was. But Ian was a coward. There was nothing strong about him.
“I really needed a drink by the end of the date, anyway,” Craig laughed, rubbing his temples as if recalling the date was starting to bring back negative feelings.
“Why, what happened?” I wanted to laugh, but part of me was nervous. I wondered if he’d already told me what happened and I’d just been far too busy inside my own head to notice.
It was honestly a little weird even so much as thinking about talking about his date with a friend of mine. I wasn’t sure if it was just the fact that it was nice to hear a therapist talk about his own issues, or if it was the fact that I was trying to obtain any sort of distraction from my own fucked up thoughts — Ian. Craig. Claire. Claire’s school. Guilt about telling Ian I was on a date. Guilt about how terribly sad he looked after doing it. Anger at Ian for causing all of this confusion.
And more Ian.
A lot more Ian.
“Well, to start, she messaged me through Facebook, while we were on the date — instead of actually talking to me face-to-face,” he explained, which meant that he, thankfully
, hadn’t told me. It also meant that I needed to stop thinking and listen.
He was giving me juicy details into his life instead of prodding into mine and that was something worth paying attention for.
“Seriously?” I wanted to burst out laughing. Megan always was attached to her phone. I just didn’t think it was quite that bad.
“She definitely did,” he cringed, visibly.
“Are you saying that didn’t do it for you?” I feigned shock.
“Umm, no,” he laughed. “Believe it or not, I’m actually really big into proper communication.”
“I guess I can see that, considering communication is your job,” I took another sip of my coffee and shifted in my chair, my back aching from hunching over. I must have been listening more intently than I knew.
“Ha…” he laughed. “Not only that, though. I got into therapy because I do really just enjoy conversing with people, working through issues, and dealing with matters head on. I’m not a fan of passiveness…especially when it’s a question regarding sex and intimacy.”
A blush rose in my cheeks. So that was what she was talking about via Facebook message.
“Please tell me she didn’t,” I begged, my eyes wide in disbelief.
“She definitely did,” he sighed, twirling his cup in his hands. “She sent me messages the whole night. They got sexy pretty quickly. I even got some photos, which was honestly pretty surprising.”
“Wow. Okay then,” I replied “I don’t know why I’m even talking about this with you… I’m so sorry!” His cheeks turned crimson.
It was clear he hadn’t meant to turn the conversation to this.
“Oh no. Go ahead. You’ve already started now,” I teased. I didn’t know why I was so interested. But I was. I guess it was good to know that someone else’s love life sucked, too.