Arc-en-ciel

Chapter 01: Caramel Latte

Ethan has the nerve to give me a look of mock hurt.

"It's literally the most interesting conversation you could possibly witness," he says, his eyes wide, "We're talking about enjoying the mean-girl drama."

In short: we love seeing you get hassled by the bitch.

"You can go fuck yourself," I tell him- narrowing my eyes, before I decide to be a little courteous, "You lot want anything to eat? I'm grabbing myself a coffee."

"Look at him being nice to us," Tyler sighs, putting his face in his hands and gazing up at me with adoration, "It looks like it's physically hurting him."

"I take back the offer," I turn around, kicking my chair back into its place with an eye roll.

"A blueberry muffin will do!" I hear one of them call.

"I said the offer's off the table," I snap back, without bothering to turn around.

Now I had half the mind to buy the damn blueberry muffin and chomp on it in front of him to spite him.

When I make it to the line, there's already a girl in front of me. Judging by the way the cashier was trying to flirt her pants off, I knew it was going to be a while before it was my turn.

"Here's your drink," he says, with what was supposed to be a charming smile. It looks like a sleazy smirk more than anything. "Great choice for a great girl."

Fuck's sake. I glare at him impatiently, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Thank you for the caramel latte," I hear the girl say, and for a moment there- I'm almost taken aback by how genuine and pleasant she sounds.

I brush that thought away immediately, eyes darting up to the board to distract myself.

But then, the worst possible thing happens.

This girl turns around, walks smack into my chest- and spills half her fucking caramel latte onto me.

I inhale sharply.

Very slowly, I tilt my head down to survey the mess.

The one time I had decided to wear a lighter sweatshirt, someone had decided that it would be the perfect fucking day to ruin it.

And she had gotten some on my shoes too. Fucking perfect.

I can hear her gasp, as she backs up and no one else in the cafe notices, but I was pretty sure they would soon.

Because I was two seconds away from losing it.

"I am so sorry," she begins- her voice trembling in the slightest, "I am so, so very sorry-"

"Oh, are you?" I half snarl, still looking down at the mess, "Are you fucking blind?"

"You were behind me!" she says defensively, but her voice sounds a lot more distressed than before, "Dude, I really didn't mean to-"

"Dude?" I repeat, almost scoffing in disbelief, "I am not your fucking dude-"

I pause when I look at her.

Okay. Fuck.

She was pretty. Really fucking pretty.

Wide blue eyes meet my grey ones, apologetic and half scared all at once and for one tiny moment, I'm pretty sure I forgot what I was going to say next.

Then, I scowl. Pretty didn't mean she got to dump half her drink on me.

She shoves a bunch of tissues in my direction before I can get another word out.