You needed more coffee. You needed the caffeine, the bittersweet taste and warmth to fight off the onslaught of negative emotions swirling through the pit your belly as you reminiscened on days long past.
Jed, ever maintaining his role as gentleman, saw to your needs. He raised his hand and called for the barista, who seemed more than happy to spend another minute of her life near him. The girl hastily grabbed the few dollar bills her previous costumer left on the counter, stuffing them in the pocket of her apron before marching over to your table.
At first you thought Jed to be above flirting with those type of women, until you caught him sweep his eyes appreciatively over her curvy body before settling on her face.
He offered her a charming smile to which she reddened right down to her collar. "Two more coffees."
She giggled like someone would when their crush asked them out on a first date. "Of course! You'll have them in a few minutes, Jed."
"Thank you," Jed thanked her graciously with a curt nod of the head. Mariette spun around on her heels, and from out of your peripheral you swore you could see Jed's thin lips twist into a fine display of repulsion the split second her back was turned to him.
The disgusted look was gone as soon as it was there, so you didn't think much of it, but it did tell you that the writer for Roseville's Gazette certainly had certainly not been making advances. A minute ticked by where all you did was stare at the small television mounted on the upper corner of one of the poster-riddled walls, one of those oldies, before letting it shift towards the pastry case.
Behind it was the blonde, paceing the length as she was facing the long row of coffee machines and espresso grinders to prepare your order. It was only when someone cleared their throat that you stopped looking.
"Don't feel so guilty about an event you had no control over." Jed sat with his chin propped on the back of his hand, professional concern etched on his features. His tone was a light one, meant to be comforting.
"What?" You blinked, confused, until it clicked in your head that he was picking up the conversation from where you left off. "Oh," upon realizing that he was waiting for an answer, your eyebrows rose and then dipped as you let slip a little contemplative sound. "Well, I–"
The clacking of heels on the floor prevented you from saying much else as the barista came back with your drinks, in china service this time, small, dark and swirling caramel-colored brilliant crèmes on the top.
Judging by the sneer plastered on her caked features, she didn't seem too pleased.
"Here you are." She sweetly put down Jed's cup in front of him with a soft clank as it hit the surface of the table, making sure to blink slowly at him in a way that she thought to be seductive.
Once she faced you, the façade quickly faltered and she put down the coffee just that little bit too hard so that it splashed over the edge of the cup, and bits of it hit the front of your chest.
"Oh!" She gasped in overexaggeration. "I'm so sorry about that!"
Great. Just wonderful. Not only were you feeling down, but now you were also humiliated in public. Several costumers glanced into your direction, curious to see how this was going to unfold.
Her nasty smirk didn't make you feel any better, and neither did her hollow apology. All you did was grab a nearby tissue from the tissue holder to dab most of the wetness away, but the light brown stains were still very much visible. It was almost as though some higher power was punishing you for wearing white today.
You took a peek at Jed who looked up at her from under the fall of his well-kept hair. His eyes were now hard and cold as ice and you could tell that the sudden interruption was most unwelcome.
"Accidents happen to all of us." That was all he said. It was the way he spoke that meant something more than the words otherwise lead on. The notes that hung in his jovial tone just moments before were swapped with something decidedly darker—something his features didn't reveal.
To your chagrin, the serving girl didn't seem to get the memo that her presence was not welcome and kept lingering, twirling her shiny lock around one of her polished fingers. She was staring at Jed until it'd gone far beyond propriety, and you coughed, awkwardly, taking a sip from your coffee so you could avoid speaking.
"Something I can help you with?" The person who had her undivided attention inquired. "Get to it, please, I'm a busy man."
You snorted, in spite of never doing that in front of strangers since it wasn't a particularly attractive sound. He wasn't busy at all, not in the moment at least, and it was blatantly obvious.
"Sure you are." The blonde ignored your mocking laughter, rolling her eyes dramatically. "I've seen you plenty around here. So uh, wanna grab a drink with me after, at say, eight? I finish my shift at four."
You couldn't help the smirk that remained on your face, letting go of the cup and pulling your hands back into your own territory as you leaned against the booth. Her interest that was teetering on the edge of desperation made you quickly forget all about the stains she had caused on your clothing, or the onlookers watching.
With two taps of the finger, Jed drew the server's gaze to the cheap made in China set before him. "You already fetched me a second," he lifted his chin to her and gave her a particular smile which made him look younger, innocent and—okay, you hated to admit it; cute. "I'll be full."
The funny thing was that he didn't outright reject her. He was only ever making her aware that he wasn't taking her up on a date because she'd already served him, with another female in his presence, no less. He was sounding extremely polite telling her this, too.
Mariette didn't look like she had ever been turned down so openly by the looks of her face falling flat, making her appear ridiculous.
Still, she was stubborn as she was persistent and refused to let it go, peering up at the clock with a pout. "It's only nine-thirty in the morning," she pointed out, and you got the feeling this was slowly becoming a matter of hurt pride rather than romantic interest. "We can go another day too," she added, a last ditch effort.
Oh, you'd figured her out. She was the type that got everything she ever wanted, turning into a vicious little creature when denied.
You felt your nerves finally crack and the next moment cut her off midway through her sentence, "I don't know if you understand English, but he clearly said no."
The waitress turned her head to look at you through her voluminous eyelashes, like it was the first time she fully acknowledged your existence even though you had been sitting here as long as Jed had.
"Did I ask your opinion?" She snipped. "You stay out of this, fatty."
Your mouth fell agape. Fatty? You were more than fed up with her now, the insult at your weight being the last straw.
"Excuse me?" Not everyone in the world is a size four model.
You'd raised your voice at her, feeling each and every pair of eyes here judging you. Assessing you. Like you had been the one that started the drama. You hadn't, and quite frankly you couldn't care less about what they thought of you.
You didn't think Jed was going to waste another breath on her, when he did just that, telling her he changed his mind when a brief look of recognizition flashed over his face, like something clicked in his head. And not only that, you nearly stumbled from the booth when he gave into her whining, but not without mentioning something about a compromise.
"I'll agree. Tomorrow, seven in the evening. On the condition that when Miss (L/N) visits the café, you will not 'accidentally' stumble over her again. That's the deal," Jed kept his attention on her, giving her a winning smile.
You, in turn, gaped at the reporter, stunned. You certainly weren't expecting him to agree to spend time with a woman he didn't seem to be particularly interested in other than a potential one-night stand, let alone force her to leave you alone in the future, should you come back. The gratitude you felt in that second was immense.
A frown pulled at the corner of the woman's lips as she rotated her gaze between you and Jed. Her decision seemed to be quickly made when the wrinkles in her forehead smoothened,
her previously hurtful expression slowly transforming into a gentle, genuine grin to match his.
"Okay. See ya 'morrow." On those parting words, the girl then sauntered off.
Confusion swelled within you. Did it not look like he was disgusted by her earlier? It couldn't be that he was only doing this to get her off your back, right?
For the next couple of minutes, you kept yourself occupied by following the movement of Jed's fingers with your eyes as he ripped open the tiny sugar pack that came with his coffee, dropping big hunks of crystallized sugar into the cup before picking up the spoon from the plate and using it to steer it.
"You're really gonna do it?"
He just looked at you, then, one dark eyebrow raised. "Believe it or not, the sugar isn't going to raise my blood pressure any more than she managed to."
"Hah. The sugar wasn't what I was talking about." You had a feeling he already knew that and that it was only a jest, but that didn't stop Jed from playing along.
His head tilted innocently to the side. "It wasn't?"
"Nope."
He laughed easily, and you quickly followed, because his chuckling was infectious, slightly raspy yet warm. You brought your own cup closer to your mouth, already half empty. Something was stopping you from taking a sip, though—that something being your supposed interviewer studying you from across the table in a curious manner. It was odd because he wasn't questioning you as of now.
You timidly put the cup back down. Not ouf of uncomfortableness, but because you could feel another question coming up when Jed looked like he was trying to figure something out.
"No sugar?" He asked after some time passed, and the nervous feeling in your stomach instantly eased. He was only asking you about your coffee, phew.
"Too sweet."
He shook his head, the dark of his fringe whipping every which way, "A sweet woman such as yourself doesn't enjoy her coffee the same? That's peculiar."
Your breath hitched in your throat at the compliment, and you were glad that your hand under the table wasn't visible when it balled into a fist on your knee.
"No, no. I enjoy it sweet," your voice was calm, betraying nothing of how your insides were knotting themselves once again. You hoped you hadn't sounded arrogant by indirectly claiming you thought yourself to be that nice, but even if you did, that didn't bother you nearly as much as how wrong you felt for not not backing off straight away.
From where you were sitting, you saw Jed gently open the lid of his laptop as he glimpsed right over it, at you. You weren't sure whether or not to be grateful when he momentarily ceased his flirtatiousness to steer the chat back into the direction of the one you were having before you had been rudely interrupted. "Do you live by yourself? I hope you don't mind that I ask—I only do because you're better off staying with someone during these dangerous times."
Instead of being taken aback by the abruptness of his question, you slumped back in the booth and teasingly remarked, "is this still a part of the interview?"
"Yes it is," he replied, though you had a hunch that it wasn't because the journalist's small grin gave it away. You looked down, and then to the side to let your gaze drift over the rest of the bistro, opening your mouth after a moment of careful consideration. You almost answered truthfully, but Billy's warning words echoeing in your mind stopped you dead.
Don't give strangers any details about yourself.
"No." It wasn't a lie. All of your boyfriend's belongings were still left in the house, untouched. So they were bound to come back, but how long was that going to take? There was no telling with those two.
Jed held his silence for a while, looking at you before eventually humming. "Is there someone you could reside with? A relative? A person of trust?"
You thought for a moment.
Emma. Definitely Emma.
You nodded, remembering her promise that you'd be welcome to stay at hers whenever you wished. You didn't want to intrude on her privacy but it beat being in the house all alone. Safety first. She would definitely understand.
"I suggest you think about sticking to them until the murderer sees justice. Now brighten up!" His hand stretched forward to reach out to yours that was laying limply on the table, giving it a playful pat, before moved his arm to take the expensive-looking Nikon camera sitting beside him.
While you appreciated Jed's efforts to ease your feelings from going into overload, they didn't help much. Nonetheless, you got some momentary distraction when he presented you with the countless pictures that had been taken with it.
"These are stunning," you gushed, admiring one photograph in particular with the most beautiful sunset you had ever seen; all kinds of colours blending in together, meeting a field of sunflowers halfway. Not a building or any sign of civilation in sight.
"I'm glad you think so. Do you mind if I take one of you?" He then asked with an unhidable smile prevalent on his face, browns glinstering under the warm light shining from the lamps hanging from the ceiling.
You hesitated and stuttered to find the right words that wouldn't make you sound like a coward. "Um... I'm uh– I'm not not very photogenetic or anything."
"If it's the looks troubling you.." he sold you a wink. "Don't. You got nothing to be worried about in that department."
Warmth flooded through you as if you had just drank the sweetest cup of tea in your life at the compliment that worked wonders on you. You did as he said and relaxed, mindlessly staring out of the window next to you as you blocked out any insecurities you had.
Jed removed the lens cap from the camera, turned it on and brought it up to focus his one eye through the lens before training on you to take a good angle, and...
*Snap*
Pleased, the man beckoned you to come over in order to show you the image. You could tell that he was at a professional skill level the way he captured the lighting hitting your face just right, making something as simple as you staring out of a window look almost magical.
You allowed him to shoot several shots more after that, feeling much more at ease this time around. It was weird, the sense of security surrounding him even though you had only just met him. It felt like you had known Jed longer than you actually did, but you guessed having an easy personality like that did that to a person.
All in all, you were able to have a good time, talking about everything and nothing and ending up with random tangents that would swap and weave over different topics.
You found yourself thoroughly enjoying Olsen's company. But then you reminded yourself that he had a date with the snob that couldn't seem to leave him alone, and the glances of other females sitting a couple of tables away also didn't go unnoticed by you. Some of which, you realized, had a ring on their finger. Marriage really didn't mean a lot nowadays.
One thought lead to another, and soon you forgot all about Jed, instead picturing Billy with a harem of girls at his side, clutched tightly onto his biceps as if he were their life support. Your thoughts turned bitter.
You angled your head back forward to where your companion had been previously sitting. Had been, because he wasn't there anymore.
Perplexed, you then whipped your head to the left, sending Jed a questioning look and a gasp that punched out of your mouth. "Jed!"
"Am I really that scary to look at?" He remarked with a teasing undertone, standing right beside you.
"You shouldn't scare me like that," you insisted, busying yourself by pulling your stained (F/C) top down some more. "What are you, a ninja or something?" Truth was, it sat perfectly fine. You just needed something to occupy yourself with.
"Just keeping you on your toes." He blew out a laugh, throwing his hands up defensively as if they were the equivalent of a white flag. "No harm done. Everyone's entitled to one good scare!"
"Did you just quote Halloween?" You guessed accurately and watched him slip back into his original spot.
"Very astute." The one eye that was nearly curtained by his hair surveyed your profile with intrigue. "Never would have guessed you would spend your time watching horror films, let alone after the horrific ordeals you've been through?"
What could you say? Your lovers were obsessed with them and even before that, you liked what they offered. Jed had no way of knowing that, so you couldn't blame him. But God, why did everything remind you of them?
The grip on your top tightened, causing it to wrinkle under your fingers. "I used to. Do you?"
"Not for the reasons you assume. I'm only amused by their exaggeration. It's more of a guilty pleasure for me."
Your mouth drew into a tight line, like you were refraining yourself from saying something. There was no need to, because he kept you quiet by pushing through a speech of why scary movies weren't scary at all, only entertaining.
For one you felt a tad bit uneasy, but it was the lighthearted manner in which he explained it that kept you from being bothered. Jed kept you sane, though you still weren't sure his disturbing interest in crime was a good thing. At least he didn't shy away from the ugliness of it all.
By the time he finished his rant, his hands were hovering over the keyboard of his computer, pressing several buttons to type in what you assumed to be the password.
For the next several minutes you listened to the music softly playing in the background, recognizing the tune to be Breathe by Faith Hill.
I can feel the magic floating in the air,
Being with you gets me that way
I watch the sunlight dance across your face,
And I've never been this swept away
All my thoughts just seem to settle on the breeze,
When I'm lying wrapped up in your arms
the whole world just fades away
The only thing I hear
Is the beating of your heart
The buzzing emitting from your back pocket brought you back to the surface. Danny studied you as you fished for your cell phone, taking note that you waited longer than necessary to pick up.
"Lover?" He guessed, spot-on as per usual. The soft light of the laptop screen reflecting off his glasses made you unable to meet his gaze that was undoubtedly filled with curiousity.
"Yeah, it is..." You grumbled and felt your good mood sour straight away. It was Stu.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't look like you want to speak to him."
"I know I should, but..." Your sentence was stopped halfway with your breathing hitching when a knuckle brushed against your hand.
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, (Y/N). You aren't at fault here." You took in each and every subtle word of manipulation Jed spoke that was coated in a false pretense of concern. He then backed away and shook his head, as if realizing what he was doing. "I'm sorry. Maybe it's for the better that I go. It's not my interest to cause problems in your relationship."
"No," your protest quickly passed your lips. Almost too quickly, but you felt too desperate to acknowledge any semblance of shame. "I need the help." In more ways than one that was true.
It didn't take long for the buzzing to stop and when it did, you felt the sudden need for another sip of your coffee that had cooled down to lukewarm, not tasting as nice as it did before.
It was the first time in a very long time that you directly ignored Stu's call, and it didn't exactly sit right with you. You didn't want to ignore him, but if he really needed you, he could always call you back later. Besides, you weren't sure if you were in the mood to talk anyway, afraid that you might crumble under the heavy weight of emotions if you did.
But what if it had been important?
"Hmm.. This can't be right."
You stopped your train of thoughts before it could completely wreck you. "What isn't right?"
He pushed his laptop to the side so that you had a clear view of the screen. You leaned closer to see. A browser had been opened, and when you read what he had typed into the search bar your heart beat sped up, though that paled in comparison to what it did when your brain processed the headline of one of the dozens of articles listed below.
Woodsboro Massacre survivor found dead along with four others, Windsor College
It wasn't that sentence that made your eyes widen. It was the four digits after that did.
1998.
You'd been hospitalized and diagnosed with amnesia in 1999. Your hospital bills could attest to that.