Bury My Love ➳ A BajanCanadian Fanfiction *EDITING*

i'm sorry (Chapter 5)

From inside the almost empty Starbucks, I see Jess' car pull up to the curb. She pays for parking and then walks inside to see me standing by the window. Upon her face is an expression of both relief and nervousness, and I could tell that she was in a rush to see me.

        The next thing I know, she's in my arms. Her dark brown hair smells faintly of strawberries, like always. Soon after the embrace, she looks me in the eyes. Her beautiful brown eyes.

        And then she slaps me.

        "Where the hell have you been Mitchell Hughes?" Her voice is strict, her eyes filled with worry. The barista looks over at us, but probably assumes it's a relationship problem.

        "Just..." I begin, trying to formulate the words, "let me buy you a drink."

        "Don't think you can buy me out..." she hesitantly says, but eventually gives in.

-

time falls away

but these small hours

these small hours still remain

all of my regrets

are washed away some how

but I cannot forget

the way I fell right n--

My finger begins to throb from how hard I pushed the power button on my radio. With my eyes temporarily averted from the road, I hear a loud horn from behind me.

        The light is green. I press on the gas and my vehicle lurches forward, leaving the perpetrator of the honk in my steam.

        It just had to be that song, huh. Because that is the opposite of how I feel.

        I HAVE SPENT COUNTLESS HOURS; DAYS ON END WHERE I DIE INSIDE. THE HOURS HAVE INCLINED. But what's worst is....

        ...I regret everything.

        It's all my fault.

        Everything.

        I quickly pull over to the side of the road. I don't know why. I stare out onto the road in front of me. Cars speed past me beside the shoulder. The sun is high in the sky, not a cloud covering the baby blue. I stare into my mirror, getting a glimpse of my face.

        My disgusting face.

        Filled with hatred and cluelessness. My eyes hold that of a snowball. Ice. Everywhere.

        I can still hear Jess in my mind. Sipping at her latte. Averting my eyes. "Mitch I'm only..." "I don't... I'm..."

        "Please..."

        I hit my steering wheel so hard my palm is red. I gently rest my head upon it, being careful not to honk my horn.

        And I shed my first tear in 27 days.

-

"What have you been doing?" She asks me, her voice more worried than demanding. We had sat down at a high table on the east wall. The place was pretty much empty; only the baristas and two teenage girls sit at a table across the room. I'm not pointing fingers, but I could've sworn they were look at me and giggling.

        In Jess' hand is a 'tall Chai Tea latte with one pump of vanilla'.

        I got a 'Mocha Frappachino'.