Coffee Conversations

22- The Sun

I sigh heavily, sinking against the arm of Ledger and Everett's sofa. It's long. Very long. With both of them being so tall, it's sort of a necessity, but it still feels absurd. I'm the shortest of all my brothers, but at 5'10" I've never really been described as short. This sofa was made for giants.

I watch my toes wiggle, smiling to myself faintly.

It's so nice to be away from everything. To just relax, and be myself, and enjoy a cup of coffee without pressure, stress or the confusing, scrutinising gaze of a blue haired barista, whose opinion seems to matter far more to me than I had hoped.

My moment of peace is suspicious, and silence from Ledger is almost certainly a bad sign, but I make the most of it while it lasts. I close my eyes, leaning my head back as I await the inevitable.

An odd clattering sound is what finally draws my attention, and when I open my eyes, it's to a very shirtless Ledger. The scene doesn't phase me, but the disturbingly large tub of vaseline in his hand bothers me a lot.

"What are you doing with that?" I demand.

He glances at me vacantly.

"I'm going to cover myself in it from head to toe and slide around on the floor." He says simply, as though this is a normal activity for a Monday afternoon.

"Slide around on the floor." I repeat.

"Slither. Like a slug." He confirms, nodding absently.

A pained sort of moan escapes my chest as I heave a very heavy sigh.

"What do you want to do instead of doing that?" I ask, knowing he'll have an ulterior motive, and the mischievous shine in his eyes is nothing but confirmation.

"Starbucks." He demands, like some sort of terrorist making negotiations.

"Why?" I ask despairingly.

He has coffee here.

"I need to get out. I need...something else. And lightning. Bean juice. I need..." He trails off, snapping his fingers around his head, as though I'm supposed to know what that means.

"No." I counter, shaking my head.

I have spent far too much of my life in that place, and my head can't take another dizzying moment of Blue's stare. And Ledger does not need caffeinating further.

"Yes." Ledger argues.

"No." I say firmly.

Forty minutes later my non-existent will power is made all too apparent as Ledger sits opposite me, mug in hand and grinning like a naughty child. I sigh, irritated at the sight. Instead, I find my gaze fixated on the blue haired man behind the counter. The image causes an odd, heavy sensation in my heart.

I don't know what's going on with me, but it's not good.

The guy hates me. I know that. In fact, that's putting it mildly. He literally told me that the sight of me makes him feel sick.

So the butterflies in my stomach? Completely inappropriate.

But as I watch him smile half-heartedly at something that Priya says, I can feel my heart flutter. He didn't bring up my impromptu shift here when we were ordering. In fact, he has hardly glanced at me.

I frown dejectedly at that. Even his insults are decidedly better than being ignored.

I want to be on the receiving end of that heart-stopping smile. I purse my lips, shaking my head at the thought. It's completely absurd.