Serendipity (noun)
Finding something good, inevitable or irresistible
without looking for it.
Destiny (noun)
Finding something good, inevitable or irresistible
because the universe conspired for you to find it.
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KATIE
DECEMBER // WEEK 1
If I told you that I gasped after spilling coffee all over Mr. Abercrombie's pants, I would be lying. If I told you that I apologized, I would also be lying; because honestly, what do you say to a totally hot guy that is now covered in coffee from his perfectly chiseled chest down? Maybe... 'Umm, sorry I spilled coffee all over you; I think you just became hotter.' That wouldn't go over very well.
If I told you that I laughed, would you believe me? Believe it or not, I laughed so hard I thought my knees might buckle. I felt like I was going to explode from the rate my lungs were working—I was gasping for air like Nemo did when he was flushed down the toilet. So I might possibly be exaggerating slightly... but I know that I hadn't really laughed like that in a long time. I turned to face him again and tried to stop laughing. Amanda was watching me with horror plastered all over her face, a look I should have been wearing.
"Uh... wow... I am so sorry..." I apologized quite awkwardly, if you asked me. "I can't believe I just did that." I looked away from the disaster that I created, which would consist of my mocha twist puddling around his feet. The rest was all over my ripped King High track sweatpants. I noticed one of the coffee cups in my peripheral and sighed. Please don't press charges. Please don't...
Mr. Abercrombie just stared back at me, his icy blue eyes determined to burn a hole through me. His eyebrows were raised and his mouth was open, probably due to the torture of the two-degree burns I'd just given him. Despite this, he began to laugh with me. I assumed that he just had a pretty messed up night if he was standing in a coffee shop at 3am, laughing after a stranger spilled coffee all over him. If someone had just dumped their searing hot coffee all over me, the last thing I would be doing is laughing. But it didn't happen to me, so I found the situation very, very comical.
"Are you alright?" I managed to choke out.
"Yeah, I'm alright." His voice came out quiet yet relaxed. His lips curved up into a small smile. I felt so bad, so humiliated, and he was mocking me. I was never going to live this down, that's if anyone found out. But I had a hunch that no one would find out because honestly, hockey prodigy, whose name I could care less about, wouldn't be caught dead with a nobody like me. Everyone on the hockey team at King High was basically a godsend to make my father's life easier, so it was safe to say that Mr. Abercrombie was, without a doubt, a superstar—on and off the ice.
If I stood straight up against the wall, I bet you I could be invisible and just blend right in. I was thankful that I wasn't one of the "it" girls, then everyone would know who I was and my situation. People wouldn't make the connection between me and my dad, the famed hockey coach. As far as they knew, we just had the same last name by coincidence.
"Can I make you a little cleaner?" I asked him as I felt my face heating up more. I didn't think that was possible. I bet I looked like an overly ripe tomato, or a red tractor that ran into an even redder paint factory or something.
"Nah, you don't have to do that." Mr. Abercrombie's voice wrapped around me like a boa constrictor, sucking all the air out of me. Breathe in. Breathe out.
"Please, you're about two steps away from looking like hell." I told him in a no bullshit voice. My mother doesn't just look like hell when she comes home trying to find the bathroom because she's about to throw up in .2 seconds... She is the definition of hell. This kid looked pretty close to that though. Shit. I didn't just say that out loud, did I? I think I did. I hoped he would just overlook that little comment of mine.
"Well, if it's really that obvious, then be my guest." He gestured towards the bathroom. Thank you, your Majesty. Once we were inside, he locked the door as I grabbed the only hand towel, ran it under the faucet. I turned around to wipe his shirt only to find that he had taken it off. He was standing there holding it, looking like he had just walked out of a magazine. My eyes trailed over the hard planes of his stomach and the only thing stopping me from touching him was the fact that I was holding the hand towel. I clenched my jaw and managed to get most of my mocha twist out of the bottom of his shirt.
I was about to move onto another coffee spot when he placed his hand over mine, closing his fingers my wrist almost delicately. "Here, let me." I wasn't sure that a hockey player was capable of being delicate. Ever. Because after seeing the hockey guys ram their victims into the boards until they forgot their names made me sure. I thought of my father and couldn't help but involuntarily glare. Thankfully, I was looking at the ground. When I looked back up at Mr. Abercrombie, my anger was somehow intensified. This guy, this beautiful guy standing in front of me with his hand around my tiny wrist, was a product of my father. My father had a part in making this person who he was today and I resented that.
Mr. Abercrombie slowly tugged the wet towel from my grasp and threw it aside onto the counter, before backing me up against the cold, tiled wall.
"I'm sorry," I told him. Something told me I should be concerned with being backed up against the wall, but for some strange reason, I wasn't. Of all the things I could tell him at that moment as he was staring down at me... I told him I was sorry. Maybe it was because when I looked up into his eyes all I could see was pain. I apologized for his pain, not for spilling coffee. I already apologized for that. Twice.
"It's gonna be alright," he replied in a low voice, pulling me closer to him.
"What if it's not?" I asked him, not being able to restrain myself. I knew I shouldn't have asked because he and I were definitely not about to have a conversation.
"I don't wanna talk about that right now," he whispered as his head tilted down towards mine. He took his time, giving me a chance to say no. I couldn't take waiting any longer, but I was too afraid to do anything about it, so I suffered a few more agonizing seconds until his lips crashed onto mine. Ooops.
My nights didn't usually go like this, but then again, I wasn't really sure how my nights were supposed to go anymore. There I was in a bathroom, pressed up against the cold, creme tiled wall, kissing this insanely hot guy. His lips were like magic, moving completely in-sync with mine. It was totally automatic. I didn't have to think, worry about, or fix anything at all. I was close to forgetting about what I was doing—that's how good this guy was. I slowly reached up and began to run my fingers through his hair, which resembled the color of almonds. He stopped what he was doing for a split second and clenched his jaw. His hands on my hips pressed me against the wall more with more force before he continued like it had never even happened. I froze, my fingers still tangled in his locks of heaven. That was a good thing, right? I let out a shaky breath as he broke away from my mouth, reluctantly it seemed, and trailed his lips down my neck, until he reached my collarbone.
The only time I have ever kissed a guy before this was when I kissed Nate Simmons, at a party thrown by Ava Castleton my freshman year. Or should I say, when Nate Simmons kissed me. He was drunk out of his mind and didn't even remember shoving his tongue down my throat the next day. Thank, God. Nate Simmons was not a good kisser shit faced drunk and I can't imagine that he would be a better kisser stone cold sober either. And the only reason I was at that party was because my best friend, Isabel forced me to go. I didn't realize I was smiling until Mr. Abercrombie brought his lips back up to mine. I wondered if he did this often, ya know, make out with girls in bathrooms at 3am... I had a feeling that he didn't. I suddenly had this urge to be closer to him—as close as I possibly could be to a perfect stranger, because in reality, that's what Mr. Abercrombie was—a perfect stranger.
He must have read my mind because before I knew it, my feet were no longer touching the ground, instead they were wrapped around his waist. His hands were cupping my ass, holding me. I let one of my hands slide up to touch his cheek. It felt like he hadn't shaved recently and I felt the tips of my fingers tingle while a warm feeling spread through my stomach. I really didn't care when he had shaved last. All I cared about was the fact that I was in his arms, with my hand on his face. I wanted to take away whatever pain he was feeling. He was too beautiful to be in that much pain. He didn't deserve to be in that much pain.
After what seemed like a few moments, though it was probably much longer, he set me down, both of us breathing deeply. I could feel my heart fluttering around inside of my chest like a hummingbird, struggling to break free. He brushed a bit of hair out of my face that had escaped the hold of my ponytail. Biting my lip, I looked up into his hard, icy blue eyes; they softened immediately. My breath caught in my throat, noticing that his eyes weren't so full of pain anymore. I reached up and placed my small hand on top of his very much larger one, holding it to my face for just a little longer. I needed to savor this moment a little longer because right now, everything was perfect. I wasn't the girl with the drunken mother and the father who left her. I was simply Katie Hawthorne. No... I wasn't even that. I was just Katie.
Mr. Abercrombie's other hand slowly moved across my stomach and came to rest on my right hip, as he stepped in close to me. I closed my eyes, ready for a kiss that never came. Placing his forehead to mine for a brief, fleeting moment before turning and leaving. He didn't look back. But I guarantee you, if he did look back, he wouldn't have left this bathroom. Once he left the bathroom, all the pain that I somehow managed to take away, enveloped him again. He didn't smile, though I wish he did. He didn't say goodbye, but then again, why would he, seeing as we hadn't spoken two words to each other since I spilled coffee all over him.
I don't know how long I stood in the bathroom after he left. Maybe I was trying to put some distance between us or maybe I was afraid what would happen if I saw him again. I looked down at my running watch, the only memory of my track days, besides my sweatpants, and nearly choked when I saw the time. I had been in the bathroom with Mr. Abercrombie for almost an hour. Holy hell.
I turned on the faucet and let the cool water run over my fingers, before splashing some on my face. I looked back into the mirror after drying my face with a very rough paper towel. I would use a hand towel, but the only one in this bathroom was now slumped against the mirror, drenched in coffee. So, I was left with the shitty brown kind of paper towels they gave you as a kid in school when you needed to blow your nose. Every kid started out with a runny nose and ended up with a bloody nose. Here honey, just blow your nose on that nice piece of sandpaper. I tried to be as gentle as I could. My fingers clenched around the edges of the counter before I exhaled and ripped the bathroom door open before walking back out into reality.
"Oh, hey there, Katie. I was wondering when you were going to reemerge from the depths of Hottie's hold." Amanda smirked at me before sliding three new coffees across the counter to me.
"It was a one-time thing, Amanda." I told her, but I wasn't so sure of my answer.
"Whatever it was, he was hot, and even that's an understatement." She couldn't help but laugh slightly. I picked the tray of coffees up and snagged a new bag of bagels before calling some goodbye over my shoulder. With that, I walked back out into the cold, windy night. I cringed as my feet hit the cold, solid pavement. I almost forgot I was wearing polka dot socks. I gritted my teeth and walked home.
Twenty minutes later I stepped into my house, if that's what you want to call it. Because, last time I checked, a home is where someone can feel safe. Here, at my "house", I was always on guard. In a home, there are people to take care of you and love you. I was certain that I was the one taking care of my mother and the whole 'love' part, was questionable. I set the tray of coffee and bagels down on the counter and peered over towards the clock on the wall which was surprisingly still working. 4:38am. While looking at the clock, I noticed that the strange man was still passed out in my grandmother's rocking chair. I checked the clock again: 4:39am. Time for him to leave. I had homework to finish, and that would be a little hard if this man was here.
I tentatively walked over to the man and nudged him with my foot. He didn't stir. I might has well have been a fly that just landed on him. I nudged him a little harder. He let out a series of mumbles that I couldn't understand.
"Hey! Buddy!" I was shouting now, "Time to get up!" I grabbed the broom that I keep by the door for this specific reason. I jammed the broom handle into his ribcage. His eyes shot open as he looked around. Yeah, I'd be a little scared too if I was rudely woken up like this in a house that wasn't my own. I wondered if this man had a wife and a family that was home alone tonight. I wondered if this was normal for his family... if he even had one.
"You have twelve seconds to get out of my grandmother's rocking chair and take this coffee that I am offering you nicely before I purposely dump it all over you and shove this broom handle somewhere very unpleasant." I growled at him. I was tired of unknown, drunken men coming into my house. My mother really needed to get her act together. I thought about what my dad's reaction would be if he found out that I was living like this. Would he care? Probably not, seeing as he walked out and didn't take me with him. I wasn't angry at him for leaving, because that's what I wanted to do every single day. I was angry at my dad because he didn't take me with him.
The man stood up, slowly and took the coffee out of my hand. I stepped back immediately from him, very uncomfortable with how close he was to me. I could smell the alcohol on his breath and instantly felt like I was suffocating.
"Thanks, darling. That was real kind of you, picking me up a coffee and all. I'll see ya 'round sometime." His smile was sweet as candy, which gave me the chills. My mouth hardened into a firm, straight line as I felt my spine go stiff and my breath catch in my throat.
"Get out, now." I demanded as my grip tightened around the broom handle. The nameless guy wobbled left and right as he wandered out of my front door. He didn't even have the decency to close the door. What an asshole. I slumped down in a chair that was somehow still intact, my adrenaline leaving me. I put my head in my hands trying to calm my heart which was racing like a greyhound.
"Katie?" I heard my mother's raspy voice as she thumped slowly down the stairs. I thought back to the time when I was five and I had woken up to my mother and father arguing. I called out for them, rubbing my eyes tiredly. My blue dinosaur footy PJs tugging at the tips of my toes as I stood there a few steps up. I was told to go back to sleep and that everything was okay. Well, that's exactly what I told my mother as she stood there rubbing her eyes.
"Everything is alright, Mom. Go back to sleep." I tried to put on a convincing smile. It didn't work.
"Where's, Alan?" Her voice faded away, filled with disappointment If you liked him so much, why did you leave him in grandma's rocking chair? That last question, I kept to myself and my answer came out a little different.
"He had to leave." I told her somewhat of the truth. Yeah, I sent him away because he creeped me out, deal with it. I'm sure that would go over well with my drunken, now maybe, possibly hungover mother.
"But we were friends. I liked him!" She whined and if she wasn't so drunk, she would have stomped her foot. Let's face it, she didn't have the energy and I didn't have the patience.
"You'll get over it," I told her, "And won't remember this when you wake up." I added in a lower tone.
"Go back to bed, Mom. Everything will be better in the morning." I walked towards the stairs and ushered her back up to her room. She gave me a sappy smile at me.
"You're right, Katie. Thank you." With that, she walked up the remaining few steps and went back to sleep.
I took a long sip of my coffee and pulled out my AP Calculus book and tried to focus on my homework. If a totally hot person walks into a coffee shop with a slope of 2 and a tangent of... Wait... I read that completely wrong. I got sucked back into the events of tonight and brought my hand up to my lips and smiled as they brushed across my smooth skin. I turned back to my AP Calculus homework and tried desperately to focus. It took twice as long because I read every problem in the context of Mr. Abercrombie. If Mr. Abercrombie's hair falls at at 65 degree angle across his forehead with an epsilon of... I groaned and put my head into my hands.
Before I knew it, I was getting into the shower that was only mildly warm because my dearest mother hadn't paid the water or heating bill yet. I pulled a sweater over my head and jumped into my jeans that had fit me since eighth grade because I was we never had any food in the house and I hadn't grown in a while. I checked on my mom to make sure she was still alive and left the bagels and coffee in plain sight on the counter before walking out the door to the bus towards my own personal hell.