Tip Toe [Sequel to Could only Imagine]

Chapter 1

Emily POV

Every time that we move, Alex and Gabe both insist that I don't get a job. They say that they have plenty of money and I don't need to worry about money. That's not why I get a job though. I get a job to well, get a job. To have something to do. When we came to LA, I easily got a job at Starbucks. Alex and Gabe don't know about my job yet. I decided to just say I was shopping. They are my friends, I do love them, but sometimes I just don't feel lie arguing. So, I just do. I am at my job now. Getting orders at the counter. That is when I see him. I could swear that I have seen him before, but I'm not sure how, or where. When he finaly gets up to order, I somehow guess what he is going to buy. I don't know how. I just well, know. I run my fingers threw my now short hair, and ask, "Who will this be for?" like I always do. 

"Cole," He says. My heart stops. It is just another guy named Cole. There was 3 Eric's in your year in school. This means nothing You tell yourself.

"Last name?" I ask. He has a golden rewards card. He should know that we need the last name.

"Pendery" He says. My heart skips a beat. The world stops turning. It is Cole. It is really Cole. "Are you going to write it down or just stare?" He snaps. I snap out of it and write it down, handing it to Kim, my fellow worker.

When Cole goes to sit down, Kim goes, "Ugh Cole Pendery. He never gives his last name to just anoy us. He thinks that everyone is lower than him." This doesn't sound like Cole, like my Cole. 

When the drink is ready, I call out "Cole Pendery!" He takes his time getting up, and I feel slightly annoyed. He takes the drink and sits on the counter, watching me. Does he recognize me? Does he know who I am? 

"Whats your name pretty lady?" Cole asks. Well I guess that that's a no. 

"Sophie," I say quietly. I don't know why I don't tell him outright who I am. I feel like this isn't my Cole though. 

"Well Sophie, do you have any plans for tonight?" He asks. I feel a stab in my heart. He just asked someone besides me out. Well, technically it is me, but he doesn't know who I really am. No. I shouln't feel this way. At least he isn't unhappily missing me like I am him. 

"No," I say truthfully. His stare doesn't seem like the same gentle one that greeted me when I was crying, or when I played my music and felt embarrassed. His stare seems commanding. I feel like I have to say yes. He slips me a piece of paper with an address and phone number.There is a time too. He walks out then. I stare at the piece of paper. I have to go now. He didn't even ask. It was a demand.