by Sana Abid
HOPE'S CAFÉ
Sana Abid
Hope's Café
© 2019 Sana Abid
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Dedicated to you. Keep hoping.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 1
The rain was pouring, people rushed to get out of the way, and the streets became empty; only the patter of heavy rain-drops pelting down remained. Large puddles filled the empty spaces of the street, glimmering under the yellow light of the tall street lamps. The light was faint against the small storm, so it was hard to see the shop in the corner street—a beacon of light— called Hope's Café.
Its blue neon light flickered and hummed against the rain. Like a moth I followed the light, closing my umbrella behind me as I yanked the front door open. I heard laughter, chattering conversation, and classical music playing somewhere in the background. Hope's Café was effervescent, a stark contrast to the dead world outside. Nobody minded me as I rattled my umbrella next to me to shake the excess water out. No one cared about the puddle on the floor, created by the dripping from the end of my dress. Leaving my black umbrella by the entrance, I headed deeper inside where the chattiness grew in volume. It was as if the whole town had ditched their homes and decided to meet up at this very place. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.
In the center of it all was a counter with the register, a tall mason jar labeled "tips", and a metal organizer filled with plastic utensils.
"Hi, what can I get you?" The barista smiled when she saw me seated, putting down the drying towel on the counter.
"Just black coffee, thank you," I replied as I took my coat off and set it on the counter.
"Sure thing." The barista went to do her thing, which left me feeling awfully alone. Our brains were so weird sometimes. Here was a room full of people, yet I felt lonely. The irony! But the sad part was, it was just me. It was just me feeling that. For sure. Everyone else was caught up in a conversation, throwing his or her head back laughing when something was funny, nodding his or her head when one of them agreed to something, snuggling, kissing, enjoying. I bit my lip, tapping the tips of my fingernails against the wooden counter until the barista came back with a white porcelain cup.
"Here you go. That'll be $2.50."
I handed her a crisp five. "Keep the change."
"Thank you," she replied with a smile. "If you need anything else—"
"I'm good." I nodded, picking up the cup and blowing on it. The steam rose and vanished between my brows, smoothing out the tiny crinkles on my forehead. Oh, it felt so good that I vanished with it away from everyone in the room, closing my eyes to let the warmth comfort me.
But it didn't last long as someone's deep voice hinted towards me. "You're going to just sit there or are you going to drink that?" My eyes flung open, and I turned to find a man next to me staring. His eyes were a milk chocolate brown, their long lashes enhancing their features. Such nice eyes, I thought, utterly lost in them for a moment.
"Um," I started but stopped myself. Who was this man butting into my business? He had no right to do that, and I had no obligation to answer him.
"Just saying. Black coffee gets cold easily," he said with a shrug before going back to his book, a thick novel that seemed insanely painful to read.
"Gotcha." My voice was bland. I took a sip, not because of what he said— I couldn't care less about the stranger— but because I wanted to. Pft. The coffee wasn't as hot as I had expected it to be. Coincidence, I thought, the barista must have not let the water get too hot.
"You're waiting for someone?" It was that man again, only this time his book was closed and his body was turned, so he could see me without looking over his left shoulder.
"None of your business," I told him. Maybe I should leave. Getting soaked in the rain didn't sound as bad as I thought. This man seemed like a talker and having a conversation was the last thing that I wanted at the moment.
"Well I'm sure you are," he said with a smirk. A tiny dimple formed a crater on the left side of his cheek. I ignored him, bringing the cup to my lips. Couldn't he take a hint?
"Hey, Jay, you want anything? You've been sitting here all day reading that book." It was the barista. I watched Jay from my periphery as he shook his head.
"Nah, I'm good. I'm about to go anyways, Lisa." Thank God.
"Okay, call me if you change your mind." Then to me she said, "Anything I could get you?"
"I'm good," I replied with a shake of my head. The barista left. Jay went back to reading whatever nonsense he was reading, which left me alone in my thoughts yet again. Instantly, loneliness crept up on me like a long stretching shadow. I felt like that one piece that was too out of place to fit in with the rest of the puzzle, the odd one out. I fixed my dress. I tapped on the porcelain cup. I brushed my hair out of my face. Then, worrying others would be able to see me more clearly, I pushed a few strands back to where they were. I tapped on the side of the cup again
"Something's wrong with you."
"Look, Jay," I snapped, "just leave me alone, okay?"
"Oh, so she remembers my name." He smiled. It made me roll my eyes.
"Just stop."
"What is it?"
"What's what?"
"What's wrong?" he asked raising his thick brows.
"Nothing." I averted my gaze, focusing on the stain that the coffee was leaving on the sides of the ivory Chinaware.
He shook his head. "You're a terrible liar."
"And you're annoying." I slapped my hands over my mouth, instantly regretting my lack of manners. "I'm sorry."
"It's cool," he reported with a shrug.
"No, really, I'm really sorry. I don't know—"
"It's okay." Jay chuckled. "I don't get offended easily. Plus, it was the most real thing that came out of you."
I faked a laugh before going back to my coffee. An awkward silence settled between us, well awkward on my end. Jay went back to reading, leaving me to wonder how the hell could he understand me so well. He was no more than a 10-minute stranger, yet he was already using all sorts of his communication skills to gather up information about me. Was my body language a flashing neon sign? Could he tell that my eyes were heavy, that my head hurt, that I felt like I was a damn tuna out of water— goldfish were overrated—because of my anxiety. I was sure he wasn't that good of a guesser. I'd been masking my irritation with myself longer than I could remember. No one had ever asked me if I was okay and that wasn't going to change now.
"You look like you're about to pass out."
Taking a sharp breath, I blinked, turned to my right, and faked a wan smile. "I'm leaving."
"Hey, don't do that." He cocked his head in disbelief. "I won't bother you."
"It's not you. It's just, uh, never mind. I just have to get out of here."
"You'll get sick out in the rain," he told me.
"I'll take my chances."
"If you want an
escape, I know the perfect place."
I put my coat back down. "Excuse me?" What the hell did he mean?
"You look like you need an escape," he repeated.
"No."
"Upstairs—"
"Look here, Jay," I said, anger taking place in my head, making me forget about my anxiety for a moment, "I'm not a stupid girl that shitty men like you can exploit."
"I know," he said.
"I won't be taken advantage of," I continued, ignoring him.
"I get that."
"Men like you sicken me! It's always about finding the girl who seems a little off, sounding all cool and stuff, then bam, next thing, you're convincing her to sleep with you. It's so sick, so, so sick. Good day, jerk!" With a big, bad wolf puff, I snatched my coat from the counter, hopping off the barstool. To hell with the rain.
"Lisa?" I heard Jay call out. "Where's the library again?"
"Oh, come on, Jay," the barista's voice came out from a distance. "We all know you already know it's upstairs. It's your shop." I turned around and found Jay staring back at me with a smug look. Amused was not even enough to describe the expression on his face.
"Sorry," I mumbled, my cheeks burning from the embarrassment. "I thought—"
"Yep." His smirk deepened. "I think I understood what you thought."
"Well you made it seem like—"
"Look, the rain isn't about to stop, so I suggest you make yourself cozy here or…"
"Or?" I stepped back as he got down from the barstool, turning out to be way taller than I imagined, a good seven inches taller than me. He picked up his novel using his thumb as a bookmark as he shut it closed.
"Or come upstairs." With that he left, never once looking back to see if I was following.
CHAPTER 2
Jay was right. The minute you stepped on the second floor, the din of laughter and conversations fainted in the background. Finally, I could at least hear myself think. The library wasn't as spacious as anyone would imagine it to be. It was about the size of a master bedroom in a house. On the left, there were five computers lined up against the wall, each with their own wooden chairs. The shelves reached the ceilings, not a gap between the books. Encyclopedias mostly. There were three shelves in the center of the room that created small aisles for one to walk through. The shelves were as tall as me, so anyone taller would have been easily spotted. Where did he go?
I kicked my black stilettos off, leaving them right by the staircase before inching towards one of the center shelves. The smell of old paper was so acrid in the air that my eyes watered from it. I sniffed, blinked, and sneezed from the dust.
"You get used to it," a familiar voice said. I detected it coming from the back of the room. "Bless you."
"Thanks. How can anyone enjoy being up here?" I asked as I made my way towards him. The beige carpet was soft under my feet, probably the only thing good up here.
"It's an acquired taste." He smiled at me once I found him sitting on the floor with his back up against the wall and a book on his lap. His legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed. It was just absurd how comfortable he had made himself in a place like this. "Nice color," he said.
I looked down at my toenails. "Thanks."
"You can sit down if you want." He gestured to the floor.
I shook my head. "I don't think so."
"You already took your shoes off. Might as well sit down." He was right once again. No one forced me to be here; I came of my own accord. I let myself wander up the stairs and follow a stranger who was nothing but an irksome, cheeky guy. What was wrong with me? I asked as I mentally cursed at myself before lowering myself to the floor.
"I'll leave in a bit," I told Jay, who went back to sticking his nose behind the book. The title read Summer's Silver.
"You're not bothering me," he replied. Then, there was a flip of a page.
"I know." I glared at his nonchalance.
"Then? Stay as long as you want."
I fixed the hem of my dress that was threatening to rise above my thighs, then I picked at a thread. It wasn't even a loose piece of thread; I just picked it out of boredom. Leaning against the wall of books behind me, I tipped my head back to read the title on the spine of each book that was on the shelf in front of me. God, there were so many. I sighed.
"I'd say take a nap, but you'd probably take the fun out of that too," Jay said out of the blue.
"Were you staring at me all this time?" I rolled my eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be reading?"
"I am."
"Oh, yeah?" I raised a brow.
He nodded. "Here."
"Hey! I don't want your book," I complained, but he shoved the tiny green novel on my lap before clearing his throat.
"'What do you want, Lance?' 'Nothing,' he said before staring out the window. The sun was setting, turning the sky dark with a dab of orange and pink, here and there…"
I narrowed my eyes in confusion. What the hell was he talking about? Jay closed his eyes, those thick lashes brushing up against his fair cheeks. His breathing slowed as the words flowed randomly out of his mouth. Then it hit me. I lowered my gaze at the off-white pages to find the exact words from his mouth on a lengthy paragraph. Time froze for me as I concluded: this man had the whole book memorized. I looked back Jay, who still had his eyes shut, only now he seemed different in my eyes. Incredible, was how my brain categorized it. His hair was tousled all over the place, brown and wavy, a little combed to the right. The black long sleeve shirt suited him well, his skin complimenting the ebony.
"You're staring at me," he said, cracking a smile. His eyes flung open.
"Oh, no." I blushed, tearing my eyes away. "I was just— you have the whole book memorized?"
"Changing the subject are we? Clever." He smirked. I pushed the book back to him, thanking the dimness of the room for covering up the fire across my cheeks. "I like books." Jay shrugged.
"You have more memorized?" I gasped, my mouth hanging wide open for any fly to enter.
"Maybe."
"I'd never do that," I told him.
"I see we're getting personal here."
"Really. I'm just saying, it's insane to have books memorized, word for word."
"You must not be passionate about anything, I'm guessing." Amusement lit his eyes.
"That's not true," I snapped back. Who was he to make such an assumption about me? "I'm just not into books. Books are kind of dumb."
"All books?" He raised an eyebrow.
"All books." I nodded without hesitation. "Most of them are just so unrealistic and the ones that are realistic are just so painful to read, so I put them down."
"I see," Jay said as he rubbed his chin.
"I'm just saying," I continued, "like I don't think people should be reading books. Instead of reading about society's problem, shouldn't we do something about it?"
"You're right. We definitely should."
"Exactly."
"Well, now, hold on a minute. That doesn't mean I agree with the whole 'books are dumb thing.'"
"Of course not." I rolled my eyes. "You're one of those who gets persuaded by words easily."
"I am."
"You believe in idealistic ideas like the world has a happy ending just like how books do."
"Perhaps."
"And you like it how it gives you an escape right? And all that crap."
"Wow, you know me well..."
"Vivian," I said.
"Well, you caught me red-handed, Viv," he continued. Jay put his book down on the ground and his eyes were intensely staring at me, a flicker of interest behind them. Something changed about his aura as a wolfish smile crept over his lips, the corner of his mouth twisting upwards. I bit my lip, a response to the awkward silence. Damn it, I started to fumble with my fingers, play with them, but nothing I did helped my nerves to calm down. "Why are you all dressed up?"
I was taken aback by the question. "None of your business."
"Looks like you dolled up for a date."<
br />
I blinked away. "I don't have to answer you."
"You don't. I'm just creating conversation."
"Well, don't," I retorted.
"Books are dumb. Conversations are dumb. Whoever it was sure broke your heart today."
I felt hot with anger, remembering the night suddenly and how it went down: me ending up in random café all by myself. "Leave me alone," I said, but he did the exact opposite by scooting in closer to me. It caught me off-guard, so I ended up bumping my head against the wall behind me, an action that got a slight chuckle out of Jay. He smelled like French vanilla, a hint of aftershave, and a soapy scent that I really didn't know what to label as— maybe the scent of a spring shower? It was all too much.
"What— what are you doing?" I took in a sharp breath.
"Nothing. Just trying to figure you out."
"Reading me like one of your books." I rolled my eyes. "How original."
"You've got quite the sass." He marveled, probably finding me entertaining like a paperback.
"And you have some nerve to invade my personal space like that," I said with a growl as I attempted to shove him back, failing because of his strength. He grabbed my hand and held it tight, a surprising gesture that took my breath away. No one treated me like this in my entire life; I didn't let them.
"Relax." He smiled.
"How can I?" I whispered as my eyes searched his for an answer—why was he coming onto me like that?— but all I got was pleasure wrapped up in his glossy irises, dark under the dim light.
"Like this," he said and inhaled sharply before letting the breath go.
"It's not as simple as that," I mumbled.
"Because you don't want it to be."
Groaning, I angled my head back. "Can you stop talking like that? You're making it seem like I'm my own worst enemy."
"Because you probably are." He shrugged, cocking his head to the side. Was that a frown on his face?
"And what? You're someone who magically achieved self-actualization with your pathetic inhale and exhale mantra? I think I better go—"
"Come with me," he suddenly said.
"No, thanks. I don't know why I should trust you. I don't want anything to do with you." I narrowed my eyes at him. "What's your deal anyways? You're a good-looking guy who seems to be smart with all your books and stuff. Why are you alone in a café? Are you a serial killer or something?"