Benefits

Ch. 21: Hard To Explain

"Jake?"

"Hm." He hums.

"I just want to say thank you, and that you didn't have to-"

"We're here." He cuts me off from my thank you. He hates thank you's.

It's the same coffee shop from last time. He opens his car door, as I follow him inside. We sit inside, instead of out because of how cold it is this morning.

"Hello Mr. Dennings, your drinks will be done in a minute." Says an older lady behind the cash register.

I sit down across from him, quite confused; it seems I'm always confused with him. "@Did you already order?" I ask him.

"Yeah, I ordered for us over the phone before I picked you up."

"You don't even know what I like."

"Caramel twist, with an extra pump of chocolate syrup.

Shock feels me, I mean it was an easy drink to order, but it seemed unlikely of him to remember a drink I ordered a week ago. The lady behind the counter comes to our table and hands us the glasses. "How are you guys this morning?" She's the same lady that gave us our drinks the first time I came here. She was much quieter last time, probably quite intimated by Jake, but now she was yippy all around.

"Good." Jake gives her a small smile, and I smile at her as well as if saying a quiet good.

She smiles at us and starts walking away.

Automatically our table becomes cold, and I still have no idea why Jake wants to talk to me. "So what did you want to talk about?" I ask him, ready to get down to the point.

I see him glance up at me from his coffee. He seems well aware that I want this meet and greet to end, but he stays silent just staring at me for a moment longer.

I'm still not getting any answers, and his stare has made me feel uncomfortable.

Then, "What happened last night? Why are there stitches and staples in your head?"

My breath catches in my throat for a second as I try to register in what to say to that. How did he know? "What?" I feel my head subconsciously trying to feel the stitches of each one.

"The stitches Dawn. Why do you have them?" His voice becoming stern in a way.

"How do you know I have them?" My voice is becoming just as hard as his.

He doesn't say anything for a moment; he ays back in his chair again with a heavy sigh. "Last night." He starts. "When I was holding you, I was holding your head." His voice has dropped to something that I can only perceive as sadness in it." I was putting my fingers through your hair, and I felt it. I've felt them before, but I didn't think of it till now. Why do you have them?"

"It's none of your business." I look down at my drink.

"Goddammit, Dawn!" His voice is growing in volume. People around the coffee house are taking notice of our dispute. "I need to know!"

"No, you don't!" I clench my teeth. It is none of his business, nor will it ever be.

He scoffs, mumbling something under his breath. "You are a raging hypocrite."

"No, I am not-"

"Yes, you are! You expect me to open up to you, to tell you about why I wear glasses, yet you shut me out the minute I am way too close to finding out the truth." Again, his voice carrying volume, and I'm scared to be overheard by people.

I look around the room, scared for people to know about the situation that happened to me. He realizes that himself. "Mind your own fucking business!" He barks out to the crowd. Some of them roll there eyes at Jake, while some cower away to there own conversation. But as a whole, the coffee house starts talking again rather then staying silent to listen.