Chapter song: I hear a symphony by Cody Fry - flying
C H A P T E R T W O
Clarity's POV
"Here, you can use this," Olias says, passing me a black jacket from his trunk, leaving him in his gray sweater. He shuts the trunk close once I take it from him.
I pull it over myself and I'm immediately consumed by it.
It's long and big, but warm and smells like... coconuts? Whatever the fragrant smell is, it's amazing.
I look over at Olias on the other side of the car, watching me adjust to his sweater, his eyes lazily falling up and down my frame.
"Does it look good?" I question, pulling my hair out from underneath, letting it fall over my shoulders.
He only nods, "Just don't fuck it up," he says, getting in the front seat. I look down and zip the jacket up. He should just let me have this. I like it better than anything in my closet. But I know he wouldn't, so I don't ask.
I go to open the door to the seat beside him, but it's locked. I bend over, knocking on the glass and smiling.
Starting the car, he looks over, a dimple forms in his left cheek. He reaches over the seats and pushes the door open for me.
I hurry into the car sitting in and bringing my knees inside the jacket and to my mouth, "Trying to get rid of me already?"
"I'd never," he says, but I sense sarcasm and humor in his tone. He looks over at me, "Legs down, seatbelt on."
"Okay," I respond and do as he says, buckling my seat belt in. He adjusts his rearview mirror and then starts to drive into the streets of New York.
"Address?"
I tell him the location of the Starbucks and he makes his way there. For the entire car ride, I look out the window, the wind taking my hair up and around in every direction possible. The lights of downtown Manhattan blur together as he drives, and I even encounter a dog with his head out the window on the way there as well.
Stopping at the Starbucks, I get out and meet Olias by the door. He opens it for me, and I'm immediately smacked in the face by the scent of coffee beans, vanilla, and fresh pastries.
I hum as my second favorite smell (right below the scent of new book pages) fills my lungs.
"What drink do you order?" He asks me. I turn to face him.
Below the well-lit light, I can see him much clearer. The dark circle around his eyes, his broad frame, an awkward stance.
His imperfect-yet-perfect features make him look as pretty as his name.
In a platonic way, of course. I wouldn't do that to Jonah.
I inhale, "I order a Strawberries and Creme Frappuccino, sub classic because I like white mocha, three pumps of raspberry or one for a small whip cream on top and bottom, double blended and second time blended with a splash of black tea."
He's staring at me like I just said the ritual for summoning a demon.
I knew that would happen. And I only laugh, "Got all that?"
He brings his hand to the back of his neck and scratches, "All of that is one drink?"
I nod.
"Okay then." He raises his brows in acceptance.
I go to grab my wallet but realize I'm not carrying anything on me. My face drops as I look back up at Olias.
"I don't have any money."
He digs in his pocket and pulls out a twenty-dollar bill between his two fingers, "As if I were letting you pay anyway. Go find a seat and I'll be back, okay?"
I can't help but smile and nod. We part ways, and I sit down beside a window. My attention is instantly caught by a small dog that crosses the window. It's golden and fluffy, its tongue hanging out. An older woman walks him, and I pucker my lip in awe at the pup as he leaves my sight down the street. I want a dog.
Moments later, I hear my name. More like a slightly different version of it, "Clare, repeat that monstrous drink one more time."
I grin, repeating my order across the store. He points at me and looks at the cashier, "Yeah, everything she just said."
The cashier laughs as he gets down my order.
Several minutes pass before my gaze through the window is interrupted by Olias. He places my drink in front of me and then a simple small mocha for himself.
"Thank you," I say.
"Mhm."
He sits, leaning back in the chair as I pick up the drink and sip the straw.
I hum as it travels down my throat, the sweetness filling my dead battery inside. I'm such a Starbucks addict.
Taking off the cap, I reveal the whipped cream—my favorite part.
I lean down and lick some, the sweet white cream pressing onto my lips. Looking up, ready to call for Olias attention, I laugh, knowing full well there's a white whip cream mustache on my top lip.
But he's already staring at me with a smirk, his eyes doting around my face.
"I think you got a little something," He teases, tapping his mouth.
I giggle, playing along, "Oh shoot, I think so." My thumb goes to my mouth, scrubbing the cream off and onto my thumb, licking off the rest, and popping my thumb out of my mouth. The cream's gone now.
My gaze shifts back to Olias, whose lips are parted slightly, his eyelids low as he looks at me through his lashes. As if startled at me looking up at him, his gaze breaks, and his jaw clenches.
"Aren't you gonna drink your mocha?" I question, poking my finger in my cream and scooping some more to eat.
He clears his throat, "Yeah— I mean no, I'm not. I don't drink coffee, actually."
I stop myself, "What? So why did you agree to go here? We could've gone somewhere you liked also."
Selfishness falls over me. To begin with, I should've asked if he liked coffee. All I did was think of myself.
He shakes his head, "You wanted it, and I wanted to give you whatever would make you happy after everything."
I stare at him, blinking at his consideration. "Oh," Is all I manage to come up with, my cheeks no doubt glowing.
"Do you want my drink? It's still hot," He leans up.
Hell freaking yes I want it. That's what I wanted to say, but I just take it silently, nodding, and going to sip it. The warmth floods my body immediately.
***
Walking out of Starbucks with a stomach two drinks fuller, plus a croissant, warmer than ever, I look at Olias.
He takes a breath and looks down at me, "Where do you live? I'll drive you home."
My body runs stiff.
I shake my head, "No, I don't want to go there. At least not yet." My voice is quiet and soft.
He scratches the nape of his neck, "Okay... you can always just come back home with me. You could sleep in my sister's room. She doesn't... live there anymore."
I try my hardest to stop my excitement, but my eyes widen.
"Yeah, I'm cool with that." I bite my lip, hiding my soon-to-be wide smile. I've always wanted to have a sleepover with a friend. Except he's a stranger. Good enough.
He nods his head and begins to walk towards his car and I follow.
"Wait," I start. "How do you know I'm not a serial killer?" I ask Olias, pausing my walk.
He opens his car door for me, "I do actually because the only thing I see you killing is my cereal in the morning."
My mouth drops at his literal accusation, "Depends. Do you have Frosted Flakes?"
He pulls a toothpick out of his pocket, sticking it in the corner of his mouth, "Get in the car already, will you?"
I laugh and do as he says, getting in the passenger seat: he shuts the door and walks his way to the driver's side.
I know I shouldn't trust people as easily as I'm trusting Olias, but there's an aurora to him that screams safety to me. Someone I can count on. Someone who doesn't know of my life and can't judge me, or expect anything of me. He's a friend, maybe not one I'll ever see after tonight, but still, I was right.
He is the perfect company.