Black

XLIV

To my luck, Harry didn't address it all.

I lifted the tissue in my hand, wiping my runny nose as my eyes ran over the tables.

Such a small, simple place that holds a lot of stories.

The story of the sad girl with the headphones and head leaned against the wall. The story of the stressed mum trying to calm down her crying baby. The story of the boy who shook his leg nervously as he looked around, evidently waiting for someone.

The story of me falling gradually into insanity's arms.

I clenched my free hand, digging my nails as deep as I could into my palms.

Maybe I should have agreed to Harry's offer of staying in the coffee shop after all.

Maybe once I would have looked into his green eyes, my mind would have gone blank again--the good kind of blankness.

"Black," someone called.

I turned my head to Niall who cocked his head subtly to something in front of me.

Shifting my eyes back to the cashier, I found a man in a suit looking like he was in his early thirties.

How long has he been standing there?

I cleared my throat, "Good afternoon, are you ready to order?"

"Yes, in fact, I already stated my order, but you clearly have better things to think of," he said sharply, his features screwing up in annoyance.

Do not snap at him. Do not snap at him. Do not snap at him.

I looked down, "I'm sorry, what's your order?"

"An espresso with an extra shot."

I nodded as he slammed the money on the counter and walked away.

"Someone replace his espresso with a cup of calm the hell down," Ruby said from my left, her low and husky voice that didn't match her honey-like features taking me by surprise.

I huffed, moving my hands over my face, "Concentrate, Black," I whispered.

"Don't upset yourself over him, New Yorkers are sort of rude sometimes," Niall said, pressing his hand to my back.

Even though I knew he was doing it for comfort, my body tensed under his touch.

I nodded, faking a smile as he returned it with a genuine one and went back to work.

Five customers later, Niall told me to leave the cashier and help him with serving the orders since the place started getting too crowded.

I picked up a tray of two coffee cups and a plate of cookies, reading the number of the table to which the order belonged.

Looking around, I recited the numbers of the tables Niall had told me about a few minutes ago and walked to the one in the middle.

Table number 8.

The tray shook slightly in my grasp, making me hold it tighter as I looked out for every step I took.

I stepped towards the table where the boy once sat alone, now accompanied by a brunette.

My eyes fell on the table behind it and froze.

A guy wearing a hoodie occupied the table--a gray hoodie with its hood over his head.

My heart dropped, then everything started happening so quickly.

My attempt to restrain my hand from shaking was forgotten once I saw that guy, and so one of the coffee cups fell on the tray; the hot liquid biting the skin on my hand off.