Seraphina wanted nothing more than to leave work and take a long, peaceful nap, but the only things that prevented that from happening were the five hours left on her shift and a tray of cookies she had just dropped on the ground.
"What was that noise?!" She heard her grandmother call out from the front of the café, questioning the loud clang of the metal tray hitting the ground.
Sera quickly threw on an oven mitt—the one she had forgotten to slip one when she went to grab the cookies out of the oven initially.
"Nothing!" Sera called back, hoping that she wouldn't come investigating.
It was the third time something like this had happened to her that day. Earlier she had accidentally overfilled a coffee mug, and not long after that she caught herself almost putting salt instead of sugar into the cookie dough.
The main culprit behind her distractedly careless actions were her own thoughts. They had been focused on anything and everything but whatever task she was performing, mainly centering on Miles and the possibility of him showing up at work with a bouquet of roses and another speech about how great of a boyfriend he would be to her.
And if they weren't focused on Miles, then Charlie was at the forefront. They often liked to replay the scene of him lifting up the car, detailing about how nearly impossible it should have been for him to do that.
She had researched about it the night prior, finding out that a car her size weighed roughly 3,000 lbs, and estimated that he had to have lifted about 1,500 lbs—all without a single sign of strain.
"Oh gosh, how'd you manage that?" Krista asked from the doorway of the kitchen, snapping Sera out of her thoughts.
Krista looked down at her friend, who was on the ground picking up hot cookies with her mitt-clad hand.
"I forgot to put on the oven mitt," Sera explained, lifting up her wounded hand. The tips of her fingers were burnt and tight, a crisp, red line running down her palm where the edge of the tray had seared the flesh.
"Go doctor your hand," Krista offered, grabbing an oven mitt from on top of the counter, "I'll clean this up."
Sera muttered a "thank you" and scurried towards the break room where the first aid kit was kept.
She was becoming increasingly frustrated with her wounded hand, realizing that working with a wound like this on her dominant hand would be very painful.
Minutes later, when she had her burns slathered in cream and wrapped in various bandaids and gauze, she emerged from the break room to see Krista picking up her slack.
"All good?" Krista asked, eyeing the wrapped hand.
"Yep, though it's going to be brutal trying to anything from now on," Sera complained. She leaned up against the counter as Krista slipped a fresh batch of cookies into the oven. "Please tell me Miles called in sick today . . ."
Krista turned her back to the oven, shooting her friend a sorry look before shaking her head.
Sera groaned aloud.
"He actually should be here any minute," Krista informed as she turned to observe the clock on the oven.
As if he had heard her words, Miles made his grand entrance into the kitchen, an unfamiliar black duffle bag slung over his shoulder.
"Hey, ladies," he greeted happily before his eyes narrowed on Sera, "Seraphina, you look beautiful today."
All Sera could do was muster a pained smile and watch him disappear into the break room.
As soon as he was gone, Sera turned towards Krista, who was already staring at her with wide, amused eyes.
"What was that?!" Krista whispered. "Girl, I don't think he listened to anything you told him on y'all's date."
"No, he heard me, he just chose to ignore everything," Sera seethed, "he still wants a second chance."
"Well shut him down, and make sure he doesn't try for a third."
Sera went the rest of her shift with that mission in mind, tensing up and preparing herself to tell him whenever he was around her, waiting for him to make a move.
It was only five minutes after closing when he finally approached her after not speaking to her throughout their shift, catching her off guard by sneaking up behind her with a basket of candy in his arms.
"Hey, Sera," Miles started, waiting for her to spin around and face him. Once she did so, he held out the basket. "These are for you, I made sure to ask around and find out some of your favorites."
Sera looked from him to the basket of goodies and then back up to his hopeful face, her shoulders slumping when she realized what she needed to do.
"Thanks, Miles, but—"
"Go out on another date with me," Miles cut her off, "I'll make sure it's much better than the last one."
Sera began to shake her head. "Miles, I'm sorry, but I-I don't want to go out with you again. I still don't feel that way about you."
She felt horrible when his brows lowered in sadness, but the feeling lessened when his features suddenly turned hard in anger.
"Look, all I'm asking for is one more chance, okay?" He asked, visibly irritated.
The irritation rubbed off on Sera. "I know that, but I'm telling you that 'one more chance' isn't going to make me feel any different towards you. I'm sorry, but I don't like you—and I don't think anything is going to change that." She turned away from him and back towards the countertop she was cleaning.
Seconds later, she jumped in alarm when he slammed the basket onto the ground, sending her a sharp glare before barreling through the kitchen door with enough force to send it flying back into the wall with a bang.
• • •
Seraphina was dead on her feet when she went down the canned foods aisle of the grocery store later that night, her body so exhausted that even pushing her shopping cart was wearing her out.
She leaned up against the cart as she tried to find the exact soup that she liked, the one that her mom would always serve with cheesy bread on days when Sera didn't feel good.
A bit of childhood nostalgia would be beneficial to her, helping her to remember carefree times when she didn't have to worry about stupid grown up problems . . . or grown ups acting stupid.
She should have cherished those times more.
"Sera?"
Every cell in Sera's body froze when she heard his voice.
Matt.
"You're so beautiful, Sera."
"I've got to be the luckiest guy in the world."
"You're perfect to me. I wouldn't change anything about you."
It took exactly five awkward, long seconds for her to gather up enough courage to turn around, looking him right in the eye.
Matt Holden stood with a jug of milk in his right hand, wearing his typical gym outfit—basketball shorts and a muscle tee that showed off his tan arms.
She felt her heart clench painfully in her chest at the sight of him. Being so close to him made the craving of physical comfort nearly unbearable.
The habitual urge to reach out and grab his hand arose, and it hurt more than anything not to act on it. It was just as painful not to have him sling his arm around her shoulders like he always did when they were out, or kiss her on the cheek to get her attention.
"Hey," Matt greeted, throwing the ball in her court.
Sera's brain scrambled to figure out what to do, desperately throwing out options for her to choose from.
How should I act? Calm? Friendly? Angry?
Even after a few seconds of this, she still hadn't come up with anything. Instead, she just stared at him.
Matt was looking at her with too many emotions in his dark eyes, the top two being surprise and . . . pity?
"Uh . . . how are you doing?" He asked cautiously, as if he was worried that she would explode at any second.
"I-I'm good," Sera said.
"You sure?" He pressed. He was obviously not buying her lie. "I know me being around you is probably really hard for you."
Sera bristled at his prideful remark, holding her tongue. "I'm perfectly fine."
"Good," he smiled.
Sera hated how her heart fluttered at the sight. Even though she wished it weren't true, she was still very much in love with him, no matter how much she didn't like him in that moment.
"Uh, I see you dyed your hair," he commented, his expression giving away his blatant dislike of her new color. "Is that really what you wanted?"
He couldn't at least pretend to like it?
Sera wasn't surprised by his actions. He had always been very blunt and opinionated, telling her exactly what he was thinking no matter how mean or rude his words could be.
"You don't look as pretty as normal. What'd you do differently?"
"I'd like to rate you a 10, but you're just not there yet. Maybe you should try self-tanning."
"You look a lot better with makeup on."
Sera just nodded, feeling incredibly self conscious and, well, ugly. "Yeah, I guess I wanted something a bit different."
"Well, looks like you got it," Matt joked. He didn't have a single clue about how much damage his words were doing to her.
"Yep," Sera murmured, smiling painfully as she looked at the ground.
"You know, Tessa is real good at dyeing hair. I'm sure she'd be able to fix that."
Sera couldn't believe him—that he had the nerve to bring up the girl he left her for right in front of her.
Anger burned in her chest, and she wanted nothing more than to let it all out, but she held it in. Getting mad at Matt would just provoke Tessa, and Sera didn't like drama.
"Um, I was gonna wait a while before I did anything else to it," she told him, looking away from his scrutinizing gaze.
Matt made a face. "Really? No offense, but I think you should just go ahead and get it fixed."
Sera nodded dumbly, still looking anywhere but at him.
Matt spoke up before silence could settle between them, probably knowing that it would be incredibly uncomfortable if it did. "Um, I should get going."
Sera didn't say anything, refraining from looking at him when he passed her. She turned back to the canned soups when she knew he was gone, her heart clenched in pain and her stomach in knots.
She felt so incredibly alone as he walked away, her lips pressed into a thin line as she looked at the ground.
She kept looking at the ground even as she walked away from the aisle, heading towards the entrance.
Her journey was halted when a large hand grabbed her wrist, yanking her back into a solid chest right before she could collide into a display of spices.
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1,854 words!
Question: What is your dream vacation destination?
Mine would have to be somewhere in Europe. I really can't decide between Italy or the U.K. or Greece or . . . you get the point.
PLEASE VOTE AND COMMENT TO MAKE ME SMILE!!!