Maybe It Was Fate

Chapter Thirty-Two

Sunlight streamed through the curtains like ribbons of light and warmth reaching out from behind the window. The light danced along my face, pulling me from sleep.

The numbers on the clock beside my bed switched every second, reading numbers of the early morning. Beside me, Chris slept, his back facing me.

I toss the blankets from my legs, allowing the cool air to replace the warmth, caressing my bare legs. The cool August air urges me to slip a sweater on, concealing the warmth between the soft fabric.

I slip out of the bedroom, taking feather light footsteps to keep the noise to a minimum. Through the translucent white curtains, the sun sits low against the horizon.

Throwing a coffee together, I allow the warmth of the mug to seep into the palms of my hands, erasing the cool feeling. Outside, the balcony sits quiet. A wooden chair and table sit unoccupied, waiting for me.

I take the seat, tucking my feet beneath me. Soft tendrils of steam arise from the coffee along with the bittersweet aroma, filling my nose. For that moment, it is the little things that matter most in life.

I bring the mug to my lips, supressing a moan of delight when the taste bursts over my taste buds. Drawing the mug only centimetres from my mouth, I look over the mug to see Chris walking out, mug in hand.

"Morning." He whispers, allowing the quiet atmosphere to remain.

The occasional car would whizz by, disturbing the peace for a mere moment, before it settled once again.

"Good morning." I smile, a feeling of happiness residing in my chest.

"Couldn't sleep?" He asks, huskiness coating his voice.

I shrug slightly, watching the wind blow loosely through the trees. "Didn't want to."

He nods. "You can never go wrong with an early Sunday morning."

As the time goes by, the sun rises and the coffee in our mugs drains away. The chatter between us is soft and gentle, not once straying to a topic outside of music and sweet nothings.

The smell of breakfast pulls me from my chair, drawing me across the balcony. I look below, people hustle around tables and chatter between mouthfuls of delicious food.

"That food looks incredible." I say as Chris walks up beside me, our arms brushing slightly.

Less than an hour later, food that looks just as incredible is sitting in front of me. Mouth-watering avocado on toast and scrambled eggs fill my plate, a glass of orange juice filled to the rim.

This Sunday couldn't get any better.

But... it could get worse.

I place my glass of juice on the table as the little bell by the door chimes. I look up, my gaze drifting past the dark hair boy sitting in front of me, focusing on the green-eyed boy walking into the restaurant.

"Allie?"

I snap my attention back to reality, refusing the urge to look at Charlie. He has a great perception of awful timing.

"Everything okay over there?"

"Hmm?" I hum, nodding.

No matter how hard I try, I can't keep my eyes focused on Chris. He shifts in his seat, facing the boy my eyes keep drifting towards.

Dread clogs my throat, waiting for Chris to turn back around. That however, doesn't happen until Charlie catches a glance of us.

He grins and waves, heading over. "Morning guys."