Skinny Dipping -H.S

Oat Milk Latte.

A/N: Um... Surprise.

SCARLETT'S POV:

I've never been particularly fond of Wednesday's. Not because anything bad ever happened on a Wednesday. I think if something did I'd maybe like them a little bit more. Then I could at least have some type of reasoning behind my blind hatred. I think it stems from the fact of nothing. Nothing ever happens on a Wednesday, and all you have to think about is the rest of the week you've got left until the weekend.

    I guess it really depends on what kind of a person you are. Glass half full, or glass half empty. I'm the ladder. Always have been.

    Every other day of the week entails something a bit more special. Sunday is something fresh, and somehow gives you a bit of a push to do the shit you've been putting off all week. I always do laundry on Sunday, or clean something that probably doesn't need cleaning. Monday, the start of the week, and though it isn't too exciting it's still something. Tuesday wouldn't be special, but I make it special. I watch whatever shitty movie I feel like and make myself pasta. It's a single girl's heaven, who doesn't love pasta? Thursday's have a special ring to them in my opinion. Bars always have specials on Thursday because they've had a drought the whole week. No one pays them any mind during the week because they're working, or babysitting. Bars get desperate, and I love desperation.

    Friday and Saturday need no explanation on why they're the best. But Wednesday's fucking suck. Maybe it's the unconstituted silence, or the lack of motivation to do anything. Maybe it's because all I have to think about is the shit week I've already had, and my complete lack of interest in making it better. Maybe it's because rent is due, and my roommate has left me to pay it all on my own so she can live out her sunset daydream with her shitty boyfriend. Maybe it's because my job is quite literally worse than stepping in a steaming pile of dog shit before class. Speaking of... That happened this week too. Moral of this endless rant. I hate Wednesday's no matter what.

    Not even Jimothy can make it better. Jimothy is a weird name, I know that's what you were just thinking. Maybe that's why I like it so much here. It's actually Jimothy's not just Jimothy. I like referring to this small coffee shop as if it wasn't a place but a person. Because that would make it even better. If this coffee shop was named after some odd, wrinkled man named Jimothy that just wanted to make coffee, and give people striving to live their favorite tumblr aesthetic a space to feel welcome. I think of him with a weird monocle like that guy from monopoly. Maybe a cane too. He always wears fun sweaters, and corduroy pants.

    That's what I'm currently looking at, a hand drawn picture of my own Jimothy. I have at least a hundred of these, all with different unique and fun outfits. I like it here not only because of the weird old man I envision in my mind but also because the wifi with Jimothy is top tier, beyond measure. Starbucks could never, and Jimothy knows it for sure. No one bothers me here, mostly because in L.A no one is really in the mood to bother anyone. You're either someone who loves that or feels drowned by it.. I like it. A lot actually.

    Normally I wear headphones wherever I go in the city, don't want small talk, or men to helplessly fall at my feet. I don't know what it is about headphones but they seem to keep the men off. At least that's what I tell myself when I think about the fact that I'm single. It's the fact that I wear the only boy repellant I know. I'm not wearing it now though, mostly because I like the noise of coffee shop's. I like the sound of the machines, and the clinking of ice to cup, and the names I hear called out. I love hearing Darren the casual barista talk to his co-workers in his calming voice, all while I draw my unique Jimothy everyday, and work on designs when I find the time around my very tight Jimothy drawing schedule.

    "Oat milk latte, Harry." I hear the order, and the name and I don't look up. Mostly because I feel like oat milk latte's are very common, especially now. So is the name Harry. It's always been common, I'm not just making that up so I don't have to check and see if he's here, and save myself the embarrassment of seeing him. But I know deep down I am lying and that Harry is not a common name here, and I have to look. There's no chance it's him but... To my dismay I see a thick head of curly hair. It's shorter, but I know it's his, and I  can't help but notice the littering of mismatched tattoos, and I tell myself to look away from the beautiful ink that wasn't there the last time I saw him. I don't want to stare, but I can't help it, and now I'm not looking at his tattoos, I'm looking at his eyes, and he's looking at mine, and now there's no way in hell I can play this off like I wasn't staring at him.

    "Scarlett?" He asks my name, and the way it sounds in his accent, it's thicker than before, he got it back while he was gone I guess. I don't want to seem surprised to see him here but it's taking everything in me not to let my jaw drop to the floor that he's here right now.

    "Hi." I swear I can hear myself squeak. I clear my throat, and look down, and shuffle through my Jimothy sketches to something a bit easier to explain. "Hi, how are you?" I ask the simple questions, knowing it'll be easier than starting with the hard hitting ones.

    "I'm.. I'm good. How are you? How's your sister?" He asks casually as if he's spoken to any of us in so long. Not that it's his fault.

    "Oh you know... Sierra is being Sierra." I shrug, trying to brush off the shitty year both of us have had. I hate how awkward this feels, it shouldn't but here we are, and I want it to end.

    "I can imagine... What are you doing here?" He asks, and I shrug, looking around the cafe, and shake my head.

    "I never moved.. I feel like maybe I should be asking you that question. But not about the coffee shop, about the country." I make my question clear, and watch as he clears his throat, and I get a really good look at him. His hair is perfectly kept. Literally perfect, and his skin is clear. His lips are the same perfect pink, and he wears a sweater, one I could sometimes imagine Jimothy to wear. He wears his with jeans instead of corduroys, and boots. He looks incredibly good, and I hate it.

    "I moved back.. I debated on if I wanted to move closer to the city, or back to our old town, and I decided somewhere in the middle was perfect... I see you decided the same." He tells me, nodding his head to me, his oat milk latte still in hand perspiring as he talks to me. My stomach flips at the way he says our old town, and right as soon as the feeling comes it leaves, just like he did.

    "I can't think of why you'd want to come back." I don't mean it to come out as it sounds, but we both feel the tension the one sentence has left us.

    "I missed it, every bit of it." He announces, and there's weight in his words. Silence drifts over the both of us, and I look at his perfectly sculpted features, waiting for something.. Anything. He of all people should know I hate small talk, not only because it's awkward but because I'm incredibly bad at it.

    "Well I-"

    "This was nice I-" We both speak at once, and I nod my head to him as he stands in front of me where I sit. "This was nice.. I was going to say maybe we should do it on purpose at some point." He offers up time with him, and a large part of me wants to nod, and smile, and pretend to say yes, but avoid him at all costs. No matter that large part of me, the small part wins.

    "We should.. My number is still the same.. If you still have it." I throw it out there, wondering how he'll respond.

    "I do." He nods, and part of me wants to ask why he never used it, but I don't. "I'll see you around Scar." He nods to me, and walks away, finally taking a sip of his oat milk latte, and I resist every urge I have, keeping my head turned back towards my notepad. I feel such a heavy weight lay on my chest hearing the old nickname and I can't tell if I like it or not.

    That was the most unexpected thing that could have happened. I feel a rush of excitement, then a rush of guilt, and another rush of excitement, then fear. All at once I feel every emotion, and lastly I feel rage, and anger. I feel mistrust, and a bit of bitterness towards him. I thought I had rid myself of those emotions years back, but here I am feeling them once more without notice, or preparation. I had no time to think of what to say, or what to do. It's a random week, out of a random month, and he's back after so long.. And of course it's a fucking Wednesday.

———————————————

A/N: um hi! There's really no explanation besides the fact that I got an idea and I said fuck it and wrote it out. Welcome back to the shit show.

I imagine Scarlett as Zoey Deutch! And Harry is in his 2017 Era!