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I heard Cherry call out my name, but the door swinging shut after me acted like a protective shield from your world, instantly cutting off her calls of confusion. Afraid that she'd run after me, I quickened my steps and pulled my thin cardigan tighter around my body.

California was its usual sunny self today, but somehow the realization that you lied to me brought a chill to my body. My feet felt heavier and my heart ached inside my chest.

They knew. They knew. They knew.

Why would you lie to me, Sean? Why did you choose to keep me in the dark when all that you promised was light?

Without a second thought, I strode toward the nearest establishment I could find; mind still hazy from the turmoil that had been going on in my head. It was then when I pushed open the heavy glass door and the scent and sound of brewing coffee permeated my senses, that I realized that I was inside a Starbuck's branch.

Taking in my surroundings and the jampacked coffee shop, I blinked; wanting to laugh at myself. Back then, I made a pact with Imogen that we would never be caught dead inside Starbucks. And now here I was, standing by its entrance, looking every bit disoriented and overwhelmed.

Apparently, meeting you, Sean had made me break a lot of self-imposed rules. No wonder Imogen didn't like you. I barely knew myself anymore.

"Oh my god!" A loud shriek accompanied by a hard shove against my shoulder had startled me. It only took seconds before the sensation of cold liquid splashing against my legs followed. I let out a loud gasp, taking a step back and almost stumbling against another customer.

"My scarf!" A dark-haired man with a bright colored scarf wrapped around his neck looked up at me with misty gray eyes. "You ruined my scarf!"

My eyes fell to the scarf around his neck that was now dripping in brown liquid. Whipped cream was smeared across his black shirt. I reached out to wipe the cream off but he pushed my hand away. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! I'll just pay for it."

His eyes rolled, sharp jaw grinding. "This is Hermés. Now can you pay for it?"

Airmess? I opened my mouth but no words came out. The gorgeous man stared at me expectantly, a hand poised over a jutted-out hip. To say I was confused was an understatement.  There was a brand called Airmess?

"What?" he asked, snapping at my lack of reply.

"Oh goodness, Gary!" A dark-haired girl came running toward us, a tall guy following after her. "What happened to your shirt?"

"Well, if it isn't obvious to you, Phoebe, I bumped against this woman over here and now my Hermés scarf is ruined! This one's my favorite."

The girl turned to look at me. I instinctively took another step back. She was watching me so closely, her gaze unwavering and her brows furrowed as if she was in deep thought. "Hey, I know you."

My heart began to hammer against my chest. Couldn't this day get any worse? The last thing I needed was someone recognizing me. And from my previous experiences, anyone who claim to know me was either someone I owed money to, or a successful classmate from high school that was packed with inquiries on how was I now. I needed to get away from here—fast.

"Uh, I think I have to go." I turned to the guy who I now knew was called Gary. "I'm really sorry about your scarf. I don't know how much an Airmess scarf costs, but um—" I dug into my bag for a pen and found an old receipt. I quickly jotted down my name and number, "—here. Here's my name and number. I promise to pay for your scarf."

Gary hesistated for a fraction of a second, before letting out a loud huff and ripping away the receipt from my hand. The three of them huddled over the piece of paper, eyes squinted. The taller one of the guys raised his brows in surprise. He looked up at me and did a double take.

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