Scream 4

Chapter 12

You ripped your attention away from the spot by the windows in the very corner to instead locate the source of the voice. It came from over the counter and belonged to one of the waitresses, clipboard clutched in astoundingly long-nailed fingers. Her question was meant for you both, but the woman's attention quite obviously was only aimed at the journalist who she was making bedroom eyes at.

At least, that's what you thought at first, until her big doe eyes with flawlessly done eyeshadow flicked over to you, and then slitted like you were a target.

The honey blonde-haired woman looked like a plastic doll with her stylish messy bun. Her apron that had the coffee shop's logo on the center reached over her square-patterned skirt, short enough to be teasing, but ugly enough to be a boner killer. You were shocked that her breasts hadn't popped out from underneath the apron yet.

You felt a tad bit uneasy by the way she was glaring at you and elected not to say anything, letting Jed take the wheel by doing the talking instead as you shifted from one foot to the other.

Jed's expression revealed little as he looked at the woman through the square lenses of his glasses before looking down at you, pausing to see if you were going to order. You didn't. And oh, you sensed that he was holding back a chuckle, having long dissected your reaction in his head.

A hint of amusement spiked in Jed's voice as he turned to the waitress, whose name—according to the name tag pinned above her left breast—was Mariette.

"Please, call me Jed."

"Mariette," she replied flirtily.

"Beautiful name. Two capuccinos and we'll be on our way, thank you."

"Two capuccinos, comin' right up handsome!"

Your eyebrows rose at the exchange. You shook your head to get rid of the image of the wink she sent after him, what did it matter to you?

Brushing off the flirting, you headed through the maze of tables, settling for the one in the far back even though the handful of people present were too immersed in what they were doing to even spare you a glance as you passed them.

You undid the knots of your jacket, depositing it on the empty spot next to you before sliding into the booth, watching Jed shed himself of his coat and shoulder bag before sitting down in front of you with a flawlessly straight posture.

...

Unlike before, there was an unspoken tension brewing in the air. Not the bad kind, but the kind where neither of you broke the silence. You were looking everywhere but directly at your companion, and you were sure he was already aware. Jed was observant like that.

Maybe if you played with the salt and pepper shakers long enough the awkwardness would fade-

"Did the barista trouble you?"

...Or not.

Darn it.

With your hopes of avoiding the topic now squashed, you slowly put the salt shaker down, pushing it back to its original spot with your index, inch by inch as you not so subtly stalled time; anything not to meet that damning inquiring gaze.

You were, however, very quick to deny the question with a short and solid, "No."

"Hmm." He paused for a moment in false consideration, sounding like he did not believe your bullshit for even a second. The manner in which he leaned back and folded his arms and legs seemed to reflect that. "So I am to understand that you glaring daggers at the girl like she stole your favourite lipstick must be a figment of my imagination, then?"