His only reason (Emblem 3 fanfic)

His only reason (Emblem 3 fanfic - Chapter 14)

We were mobbed. And when I say mobbed, a group of girls were camped out in front of the hotel ready to strike and attack the boys at any second. I wasn’t touched-thankfully- just had my face pressed against the glass windows of random stores every few blocks when the girls caught up to our brisk walking pace.

The cold air nipped at my nose, and Wesley placed a small knit scarf around my neck to keep it warm. His arm was wrapped around my shoulder, fingers toiling with the loose ends of the grey wool.

Once we reached the ‘surprise destination’, the chaos finally settled and my hearing slowly returned. I hadn’t really realized how loud and obnoxious younger fans could be, even when you ask for a few days off from being in the spot light.

On the corner of 7th was a small Spanish deli, which sold an array of items randing from arroz con pollo to a wedding cake, you could order pretty much anything. “I’ll grab a table,” Drew offered, leading us inside the stuffy building. There were only 3 tables, and one was occupied by an elder man, silently sipping a cup of steaming coffee, eyes gazing through out the morning paper. “Keats, grab me a large coffee, no sugar only milk.”

The counter was dusted, and short, like the man working behind it. He was frail, and his eye bags nearly begged for a break from his long hours. His skin was a golden shade of brown, despite the temperatures outside nearly dropping to the mid 30’s. His accent was broad and thick, like the mustache coating his upper lip.

Wesley’s hand crept to my waist, and his head rested on my right shoulder, nuzzling at the tight scarf. “Two green teas. No sugar, it’s too early for that.” I blushed, but shook my head at the order, as he cocked his head to the side. I sided on a yogurt parfait, and glass of water. “I thought you liked green tea,” he muttered, hands leaving my side. “I do,” I responded, unsure of his quick remark.

“I’ll have the same,” Keaton broke the silence, smirking back at Wesley before heading towards the table Drew held for us. Wesley caught the look and his right arm slid back over my shoulder, while he escorted me to the table for four.

I sat next to Keaton in the corner of the small booth, nearly being squished by the lack of space, forcing our legs to be intertwined. Through out our waiting period, and conversation, our feet playfully jousted at each other’s, until we were practically in a knot. Keaton would pretend to drop a sugar packet, but instead of picking up the splendid, he’d quickly untangle my shoe lace, coming up with an obvious grin.It wasn’t long before both of our shoes were untied and out of reach. Drew and Wesley ignored the obvious flirtatious signals, too drowned in a deep conversation of how they ‘missed surfing’ and would do anything to return back to Huntington Beach.

Our orders came shortly, served to us by the same stumpy man who’d taken them previously. One green tea, one large coffee, and a single yogurt parfait. He was wearing a stained white apron, which was painted in different ketch-ups and spices. I reached out for the parfait, as did Keaton, and our fingers touched at the brim of the plastic cup the fruit was in.

I glanced at him, confused, and took back my hand as he dragged the cup to his side. “Why did he only give us one?” Keaton asked, just as confused as I was.

“Maybe it’s because we’re not supposed to be eating parfaits, Keaterpan.” Drew answered, lips pressed up against the side of his steaming cup. It was true, as Keaton said before, they were supposed to be on a strict diet. “Want some tea?”

He pushed the cup over to my side, accepting Wesley’s cup and sipping it cautiously, but burning his tongue on the very tip. “I just burned my tongue,” he spat, throwing the cup back at Wesley. Half of the hot liquid poured down his buttoned down flannel, the other half splashing onto the table.

He sprung out of his seat, pushing back his chair and nearly knocking over our table. “You’re joking,” he yelped, trying to dry up the liquid pouring onto his jeans. “I’m sorry!” Keaton whined, getting up to comfort Wesley, his arms flailing up and down his burned body.

“You’re a joke!” He spat, pushing him out of his way, nearing back towards the counter for napkins. “What the hell are you doing?” Drew muttered back, squinting his eyes, before getting up to assist Wesley.

I silently sat, eyes turning back to Keaton, who’s mouth was hung open and eyes slightly watered. His confusion hadn’t left his face from before, and he turned towards me, expression remaining the same. I offered him sorrow, and he returned back to his seat, staring down at the spilt tea on the table among us.

“I know it was an accident.” I whispered, placing my hand on his back, stroking his spine. He stayed silent, eyes still widened at the scene. “Keaton.” His breathing was deep and slow, his blond hair fell over his eyes so I could barely acknowledge the fault he exerted. “He doesn’t mean it,” I whispered again, leaning my face towards his, my nose caressing his cheek.

He stopped his breathing, and stayed stiff, until finally turning his head towards mine, our noses connected but lips exchanging small breaths. “Thank you,” he whispered, before getting up from his seat, and silently walking to the exit of the deli.

The old man whom was sat beside us, raised his view from the paper, and lent me a sweet smile, adjusting his round glasses sitting on the brim of his nose. “You need to choose, you know.” I stared back, awaiting for another word of advice, but receiving nothing. He leaned in one last time, and grinned again. “You love him more than you intended, don’t you?” He got up and left the cafe, I never saw that gentleman again.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for being patient. I have my french final wednesday-friday and my spanish final monday-wednesday, so I'm beyond stressed out right now. I'm going to try my hardest to get the next chapter up by saturday/sunday, promise. Not sure if she loves Keats or Wes ;)