Psychic

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'Then why are you keeping me from getting your stuff?'

She groaned and lowered her head until it bumped on the counter. I could hear her annoyance. Hear her head throb at the impact, though she made no sign of showing the small amount of pain. I ignored it though and turned to the coffee maker.

'Clair.'

'What?'

'What if you consider this my early birthday present?'

I paused for a moment. 'Really?'

'Yeah.'

'It would mean that much to you if I came tonight?' I still wasn't facing her, I put the finishing touches on the cappuccino, and moved over to the display cabinet that held all the pastries, and meringues, and baked goods.

'It really would. Does this mean you'll come? Please?'

Something occurred to me then. I kept quiet though, waiting until I'd placed her order in front of her and taken her change out of the register. 'You aren't planning to set me up with anyone by any chance are you?'

'What? No, no. Of course not. I learned my lesson.' Lie.

That was a lie, I could hear it. The moment she said it, the second before she said it, I heard her body tense, a tiny sweat patch broke out on her palm. Pitch had always been a tell-tale liar, though to anyone else she could lie flawlessly.

The lesson she had supposedly learned, was the last date she had set me up on. It was with this guy, Chad, who proceeded to spend the whole time telling me of his time in battle. He had volunteered to become a soldier in a war going on a few countries over. He wanted to help our countries allies win the war. Noble. Heroic even. He told me how he'd pulled a fellow soldier to safety, seconds before a grenade was thrown. If he'd been only a millisecond slower, I wouldn't have been spending that evening with him. He showed me a few of his scars. All in all, it had been a nice night. We'd been having dinner almost entirely alone. Pitch had been thoughtful of my, 'hating sound' and booked us into a less commonly known restaurant. That of course still had other customers, but didn't bombard me with sounds. Other than what I could hear from the kitchen of course.

I would have liked to become friends with Chad, had he not turned ugly. Of course, I don't mean physically ugly. From the moment he'd spotted me, to the moment the night went sour, I could hear his arousal. I'm not saying I don't appreciate a man who likes what he sees. I'm saying that I don't appreciate a man who thinks he's entitled to that which he sees.

He offered to give me a lift home, and I accepted.

The night ended with Pitch having to pick me up from the side of the road, and letting me sob into her shoulder. It had been too late to get away when I finally began to pay attention just how aroused he was. He had turned down a street that was unfamiliar to me, and ignored my every confused word, telling him he was going the wrong way. He'd pulled over, pulled me out of the car, and I don't think I need to clarify what he tried to do. I fought him, managing to kick him between his legs and ran. And ran. Until I finally fell, and pulled out my phone. Pitch found me there, only two blocks away from home, bawling my eyes out. That was one of those times when she admitted I was right for not needing a handbag, and keeping my phone in my pocket.

'Pitch. I'm not going on anymore dates.'

'Clair, please. Just one. You won't be alone with him for a second.'

I shook my head. 'No, Pitch. I'm not doing it. I didn't want to go on that date, and I don't want to go on this one.'

She frowned, I could almost see the cogs turning in her head. 'What i–'