Pyromaniac

Chapter 7: Out of Here

            When she dropped her Frappuccino on her way out of the town’s coffee shop, Estella decided this might as well have been the worst week ever to blemish her life. For the first time ever, she had said yes to extra whip cream, deeming herself deserving of the extra calories. Apparently, God didn’t agree, because she watched her coffee splat on the sidewalk when she klutzily tripped out of the door.

            Not only had people from inside seen the whole incident unfold, but she now had a predicament on her hands that she didn’t have any idea how to handle. The coffee had landed whip cream-first, the cover snapping off easily, leaving Frappuccino all over the concrete. That was going to leave a stain.

            Did she pick it up? Leave it there? And if she did pick it up, how would she clean up the mess she left on the floor? Just as Estella was deciding to screw the rest of the world—she was fed up with everything and everyone—and walk off, Lady Luck came through and crossed over to her side. A young man with curly black hair bumbled out of the coffee shop with a fistful of napkins.

            He quietly bent down and scooped up the plastic cup, wiping away the mess with the napkins. Estella stared at him for the longest time, too dumbfounded to turn her heel and stalk off. It wasn’t until he was finished cleaning up the coffee that she returned to reality’s grip.

            He stood up, barely standing on equal grounds with Estella. Although, measuring their height wasn’t exactly fair because Estella had on the only wedges she owned in her closet. They were hideous, but more comfortable than platforms. They were the first thing she saw when she left the dorm this morning. She hadn’t really obsessed over her appearance because she was just craving a Frappuccino badly. It didn’t seem like she was going to get one, though.

            His dark green eyes flicked to the stains that Estella had predicted. “Those’ll go away someday,” he said with a joking smile. “I’m Ric—”

            “I don’t care,” she cut him off brusquely. “If you’ll excuse me.” Then, she turned around and sauntered away.

            “Do you want another one?” Ric-whatever called out after her, clearly unaffected by her rude and abrupt words.

            Yes. She did want another one. She really wanted her Frappuccino, damn it! But there was no way she was going back there and waiting for another one with all those people in there staring at her. That was too embarrassing. So, instead, Estella sucked it up and headed towards her brand spankin’ new Porsche, unlocking it with the press of a button and sliding in. She shoved her key into ignition and hit the road.

            The past week, she had gotten more attention than she had ever imagined or wished for. Girls kissed the ground she walked on and boys were now unrestricted to hit on her. However, Estella had still gained some haters, dare she call them, from the usual girls who disapproved her behavior and some new girls who had some intense crushes on Stephen. Estella thought they would have been happy she dumped his pretty little ass; now he was single! But apparently not. Well, you can’t please everyone.

            Stephen and she were the talk of the school. She figured the gossiping would die down eventually. She certainly didn’t want to deal with it for very long. The worst thing was she didn’t even remember what she did to him at the party. All the stories being passed around were growing increasingly worse, but Estella got the main gist: she was playing a game and kissed someone (Jonah was the name that won out). The stains on her shirt she had found the day after were undoubtedly beer stains from when Stephen poured alcohol on her for calling him a name. What a baby. The conclusion that everyone reached was this: Beauford’s sweethearts were over.