WARNING: This book was written in 2011, AKA, I have had eight more years of experience writing now, so this writing is quite subpar. Read at your own risk! But it is one of my favorite books I've written so please try it out!
If life has taught me one thing in the meager twenty-two years I've been alive, it was that fire is a savage beast, paying no heed to the lives it tears apart, nor the damage it inflicts both physically and mentally on its victims. Of course, that's to be expected, since fire is an inanimate element, and therefore has no reason to care, but that's beside the point. The point is, while fire might seem harmless when you light up a candle, or cigarette, there is always the chance of it spiraling out of control.
Which is the exact reason why my sixteen-year-old brother and I were currently uprooting ourselves from our rundown apartment and relocating to a minute house across town that our recently deceased Grandma had left to us. At first I'd refused to inherit it, I had been doing fine on my own, thank you very much, but then, about a week prior to the move, my irresponsible neighbors had picked up booze, smoking, and crazy bonfires in our tiny backyard, so I'd determined the apartment wasn't safe enough for my measly family (that consisted of my brother, myself, and our cat, Sherlock) anymore. One idiotic party of theirs could equal the whole apartment burning down.
Besides, the mortgage had already been paid off on the house.
And I wouldn't have to worry about any dumbass neighbors setting it on fire.
"Is that the last box, Dustin?" I called to my brother, wiping the sweat off my forehead. It was an unusually summery day for the tail end of August. The type of day I wished I was spending lounging poolside with a pair of sunglasses and my iPod cranked to maximum volume to block out life. Yeah, one of those days. Too bad I didn't own a pool... or sunglasses for that matter.
"Yeah," he grunted back, plopping it into the back of my aging, black Jeep Cherokee. With his arms free, he crossed them over his chest, his hazel eyes narrowing down at me. "Not that we have that much to begin with..."
I ignored his remark, unclipping my keys from my belt loop. So what if we didn't have much? At least we had something. Something is much better than nothing. "Sherlock's in the backseat?"
"Can't you hear him crying? He doesn't want to be in that stupid carrier, Kate."
Rolling my eyes, I slipped into the driver's side of the Jeep, shoving the key into the ignition. "Get in. I want to unpack and settle in before night falls."
"I don't see why we can't just stay here," he muttered, ever feeling the need to complain about everything. It must be a teenager thing. "They're only smoking. Second hand smoke won't kill us."
"No," I said agreeably, "it won't. However, the fire that could start if they leave a cigarette unattended though? Or the effects second-hand smoke would have on us? Yeah, that might."
He snorted, pressing his forehead against the cool glass window. "You're so paranoid."
"I think I have a right to be," I snapped at him, twisting the car key and starting the engine. The belt squealed a little bit and I winced, knowing I'd have to get that checked out soon. Which meant coughing up money to some mechanic that would probably only need three seconds to figure out the problem.
"Why's that?" Dustin drawled, and I knew he was just being bitchy because we're moving. And I couldn't blame him. I hate moving too, but there was nothing I could really do about it.
"I'm sure I don't need you to remember how Mom died," I said softly, hoping to stifle his complaints.
That sent him into a guilty silence. Misery and some guilt of my own settled into my stomach, and I regretted my words instantly. It was an unspoken rule between us never to bring up our mom. Yet, here I was, bringing it up to silence my brother. Great sister I am. She might have died four years ago now, but it was still a sore subject.
Dustin reached over to flick on the radio, deciding on 93.1 before settling back into his seat, arms crossed. "Sorry."
I forced a smile. "It's fine. I know you hate moving, and I hate to keep moving us, but... hey, at least now we're ten minutes closer to your school!"
Dustin, the brilliant young man he was, attended Williston, the most prestigious school in Western Massachusetts. Honestly, he was bright enough to go to the best of best schools, but considering our financial circumstances, it just wasn't possible. In fact, him going to Williston at the moment should of have been impossible, but between my two part-time jobs, his part-time job, our little bank account inheritance, and his amazing scholarship, we could just afford sending him there as well as the other necessities of life. And he didn't take it for granted, attaining straight A's every semester.
And of course, he was very handsome. Fortunately, we came from a family that's always been easy on the eyes. Dustin and I had got lucky there. Inheriting our parent's good looks and genes, including our semi-curly honey colored hair and hazel eyes. We really looked similar. I was bit more awkward looking than him, but I still liked to think I looked decent. Somehow my mom's slender build had passed down onto me, so I didn't have to work too hard to keep in shape.
Definitely very lucky.
"Close enough to walk?" Dustin questioned, glancing at me.
I hesitated. "Um, not really..."
"So I should sign up for driving school sooner than later."
"I don't mind giving you rides," I protested.
Rolling his eyes, he waved me off. "First of all, I don't want to be driven by you while my friends are driving to school. That's embarrassing. And second, it's a waste of gas for you to drive me to school, then yourself to school. We're lucky Doug lives close enough to bring me home after school now."
"I suppose," I grumbled. Lately all Dustin talked about was obtaining his license. He already had his permit, and I usually allowed him drive for practice (unless I was feeling particularly nostalgic and didn't want my baby brother driving), but I guessed it was weird knowing he was old enough to drive now. It felt like yesterday that my mom was changing his diapers. And honestly, it was a little bit depressing.
He exhaled loudly, retuning his gaze to the world outside his window. "Well, at least we'll have more space in the new place."
I immediately clung to the topic change. "There you go, bud, think on the bright side!"
"I think you think on it enough for the both of us," he remarked, not unkindly.
I stayed quiet. The only reason for my never-ending optimism was so he believed it, and didn't have to worry like I did. My anxiety and my panic attacks, although not too serious, were my dirty little secret. Of course, he would never blame me for them. After all, I'd watched our mother burn to death four years ago. That was bound to mess me up a little, right? And, it could have been worse. It wasn't like I was at the point where I had to take pills.
"When does class start for you?" Dustin asked randomly, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Furrowing my eyebrows, I tried to remember which street was the street that led to the street our new house sat on. Going on instinct, I turned left, and headed down Main St. "Uh... September first," I responded distractedly. Upon passing a small pizza place, I knew I took the correct turn. A gas station went by, and then a convenience store called Cooper's Corner, and finally a boarded up shop—
I paused.
The once boarded up shop on the corner of the street now had a fresh coat of dark brown paint, pristine glass on the once broken windows, brand new shingles on the (also brand new) veranda with cute café tables under it, and customers. Three out of the four outside tables were occupied. The inside was too dark to make out through the tinted windows, so I couldn't see what the interior looked like.
"Red light! Red light!" Dustin cried frantically, breaking me out of my surprised stupor.
Immediately I slammed on the brakes, causing our seatbelts to lock up and effectively choke us. Dustin grunted a little and gave me a sharp look. Sheepish, I grinned back at him. "Sorry... It's just, I go by this place so often, so I wonder how I didn't notice it went from being a place for rent to a... to a..." I glanced at it again, realizing it had Coffee Shop in elegant print on one of the windows. "Coffee shop, I guess."
He raised an eyebrow. "You haven't noticed? It opened like a month ago. S' pretty popular too."
"A month? Again, how did I not notice?"
"Well, I'm the one who's been driving lately. And you don't pay a lot attention to things when you're not the one driving."
"Hey, I so do—"
"Don't try to deny it," he interjected flatly. "And aren't we supposed to turn left here again?"
Realizing he was right, I grumbled under my breath, and flipped on the left directional. "Right. Well, it's reassuring to know there's a coffee shop right down the street. At least now I don't have to drive to Dunkin' Donuts after class every day now."
Scrunching up his nose, Dustin gave me a disapproving look. "You drink too much coffee. It's not healthy."
"S'not like it'll stunt my growth. I'm as tall as I'll get." Although I'd like to be a few inches taller. But who wouldn't? Unless you're already a giant, but then you'd wish to be a few inches shorter, and it's pretty much the same thing. Kind of...
"Your teeth will decay."
"As they would if I ate a lot of candy, which I don't. Go nag someone else."
He huffed and indignant puff of air, and once again turned his back to me. I couldn't help but grin.
The light turned green, and I turned left, heading down Pomeroy Street. My eyes located my grandma's (well, my) house quickly, and I smiled. It was the same as ever. Impossibly white, even after all its years of existence, a shingled roof over its two stories, symmetrical windows, a giant front door... the terrifying Tin Man mailbox. I grimaced. Yep, exactly the same.
"Wow, that lawn needs some major mowing," Dustin commented, his gaze sweeping over the grass that was three inches over the socially accepted level.
"Guess we found your first job."
He made a face at me. "What, you want me to water the flowers too?"
My eyes skimmed along the white picket fence, yes, white picket fence, where there was a mess of flowerbeds that were all surprisingly still alive. "Actually, yes."
"Great."
The neighboring houses were dead, as usual. The house on the left was the type of house a rich person might own. It was gigantic and fancy and definitely out of place. The house on the other side was significantly smaller, only one floor, but in perfect condition. There wasn't not a tree out of place. From my memories of visiting my grandma, I couldn't recall ever seeing anyone come out of either house. Not that I minded. More privacy.
"Should we throw a wild party and scare our non-existent neighbors?" I suggested jokingly as I pulled into the driveway. There was a garage, but I didn't remember the pass code for it, so I parked on the pavement.
My brother ignored me as he hopped out of the Jeep, hurrying to the backseat to snatch Sherlock from it. "Toss me the keys. Let's get Sherlock out of this trap before we start unpacking."
"Lock him in one of the bedrooms though. I don't want him escaping as we bring stuff in," I directed him; pulling my keys out of the ignition and throwing them back to him. "Make sure there's no robbers in there too."
Snorting, he nodded, gathering up Sherlock and hastening toward the house. I sighed, unbuckling myself. Although we didn't have many belongings, there was still enough to fill the entire inside of the vehicle, which meant it would take more than a few hours to unload and unpack.
Predictably, it did take several hours to haul all the boxes and appliances inside the house. Thankfully, when my grandma left me the house, she'd also left everything inside of it to me as well. Which meant I wouldn't have to go out and buy second hand furniture to furnish it. There were even two refrigerators— one in the kitchen, and one in the garage (and there was still enough room to park my car in there). And speaking of furnishing, most of the floor in the house was light hardwood— the living room, the main halls, and the dining room. Both the bathroom and kitchen had shiny white tiles while the bedrooms had plush carpets. Half unpacked boxes littered all the rooms though, partially covering their clean floors. Worn out, I decided to call it a day and that the rest of the unpacking could wait until the next day.
"So what do you think of the place?" I asked Dustin, perching on the white marble kitchen counter as he poked around in one of the boxes labeled Sherlock searching for one of his cat toys.
"I think it smells like old people."
The corners of my lips curved up into a grin. "Well Grandma did live here until recently."
Dustin glanced up at me, his nose wrinkled. "I hate this smell. Why do you think she left the house to you anyway? You're not the oldest of the family."
"Well, I'm the oldest of the family that she actually likes," I pointed out. "Mom's gone, Dad's in jail and also a persona non grata."
Dustin snorted. "Grandma would use that phrase."
Rolling my eyes, I nodded. "Yeah. So obviously she wouldn't leave it to him. Which leaves you and me since Grandpa's dead too. Well, I guess Aunt Shelly too, but she's got a nice house anyway. Let's not look a gift house in the mouth."
"M'not," he told me, extracting a small, plush mouse from the cat's box. Tossing it on the floor, he went back to digging for one of the jingly balls. "Just curious."
"Mm... you know if you want, we can get an Ouija board and call up grandma and ask—"
"Don't be a smart ass," he interjected, giving me a flat look.
Grinning, I hopped off the counter and landed quietly on my feet. "I'm hungry. Want to get pizza for dinner? I'll go grocery shopping tomorrow, but we have to eat out tonight."
His expression brightened immediately. "Pizza? Hell yes. Meat lover's all the way!"
"Half. You know I only like plain cheese."
"Oh yeah, I forgot. You're boring."
Brushing his insult aside, I gestured toward the living room. "Watch T.V while I'm gone. There's cable still."
"Good, because there's no wifi."
My eyes widened. "What?"
Dustin nodded somberly. "None. And the only two houses with wifi in our distance both have password locks."
"Ugh, so not good," I groaned, running a hand over my head. College, plus no Internet connection, equals a bad time. "Damn it, this means I'll have to go to a library."
"God forbid."
"Oh, shut up, Dustin. Libraries suck. They're so... quiet."
He blinked at me. "Duh."
Waving him off, I attempted to blindly smooth out my hair before heading for the front door. "Call in the order to Domino's and I'll go pick it up. Remember, half cheese."
"Yeah, yeah. Why don't you check out the coffee place and see if it has wifi while you're out?" he suggested. "It might still be open. And I figure about now you're craving some caffeine."
"Oh, I am," I told him before slipping out the door. Caffeine sounded perfect about now. It'd been a long day.
The coffee shop was an easy walk from the house, as was the pizza place, but since it was dark out, I decided to drive. When I arrived, I parked in one of the parking spots in front of it, shutting off the jeep's engine and gazing at the building for a moment. The name of the place was on the glass door in white font— Cerak's Café. My brows furrowed at the strange name, but I shrugged, unsnapping my seatbelt and climbing out of my car. There was a tinkle of bells as I entered, and immediately a strong, warm scent of delicious coffee met my nose. I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes. If the coffee was half as good as it smelled, then this would be my new favorite coffee place.
"Welcome," a quiet voice greeted me.
My eyes snapped open, and at first I didn't see anyone. Only the intimate inside of the coffee shop. The lighting was low, but still bright enough so you could see without difficulty. There were candles flickering at the few wooden tables scattered around the shop, and I realized the place is empty. Which prompted me to check the time. It was already nine o'clock. I grimaced. Who drinks coffee at nine at night?
"Can I help you?" came the same voice.
Finally my gaze wandered over to the counter, then behind it, where a young man stood, watching me. Under the low lights it was hard to make him out, so I stumbled a few steps closer, feeling self-conscious suddenly. When I could make him out clearly, I very nearly did a double take, blinking a few times to make sure I wasn't fantasizing or something, because damn, the guy had a handsome face. Very handsome. Semi-curly, black as night hair that reached halfway down his neck in the back, a chiseled jaw, and pale lips... basically, he had movie star good looks. "Ah, are you still serving coffee at this time?" I asked, surprised I found my voice so easily.
His incredibly blue eyes turned curious and he raised an eyebrow at me. "Why wouldn't I be? The sign says open, doesn't it?"
"Oh, right," I responded with a nervous giggle. And I just wanted to punch myself because I just giggled. Like a sixteen-year old girl flirting with her crush. Clearing my throat awkwardly, I approached the counter, searching for a list or something with the coffee flavors. As I did so, now that I was even closer, I realized the employee stood a good couple inches taller than me, which put him around at least 6'1. From his build, I assumed he must have played soccer or basketball in high school. He wasn't exactly slender, but he wasn't as beefed out as a football player either. Hale and hearty.
Then I realized I was checking him out again, and quickly focused on the chalkboard listings behind him.
"What can I get you?"
My eyes flickered back to his handsome face and I really needed to stop describing it that way before I started blushing. God, I was such a girl sometimes. He was going to notice my gawking and get freaked out. But, I had to give myself some slack. Guys like him were guys you didn't see too often. "I'll just have a mochaccino. To go."
Mochaccino? I mentally slapped myself. Out of the range of drinks, some of them obviously original to this coffee shop, I went for a plain mochaccino.
Almost as if he'd been reading my thoughts, the man behind the counter grinned and if I thought he couldn't get any more beautiful, I was wrong. "Personally, I prefer mochaccinos late at night too," he said amicably as he set about making my drink.
"Yeah?" I responded lamely. And this was why I didn't have a boyfriend.
"No. I just said that to make you appear less strange. Who comes in so late for a coffee?"
Now a blush did cross my face. "Yeah, well, what coffee shop is open this late anyway?"
His intense blue eyes found mine again and they gave off the impression that he was reading my soul or something. "This is a part time bakery too... you must have failed to notice the pastries under your nose."
Skeptical, I dropped my eyes, my gaze landing on a shelf of delectable-looking pastries. "Oh..." I forced an awkward laugh. I wondered if he made the pastries himself. He kind of looked like the type of guy who bakes.
"One mochaccino."
Startled, I jumped back a bit, not hearing him approach, or the sound of the milk steamer. A frown was in place on his face and I quickly smiled at him, maybe to prove that I wasn't as crazy as must have seemed at the moment. "Thanks."
"Do you like cheesecake?" he inquired.
"Yes...?"
He nodded, bending down and sliding open the door to the pastries. In a flash, he had a piece in a to-go box and was handing it to me. "On the house."
My eyes dropped down to his outstretched hand, and I noticed a smooth, white scar beginning on the side of his wrist and trailing up underneath his shirt's long sleeve. "You're—" I caught myself quickly, before I could mention it. Way too personal for a first meeting. "You're very kind," I said awkwardly, forcing a smile and taking the box from him. "Um, thank you. How much is the—"
"Also on the house," he told me, a twinkle to his eyes. "An apology for making fun of you."
I grinned. "You didn't really make fun of me."
He gave me a one-shoulder shrug. "More or less."
"Thank you," I said again, clutching my cheesecake in one hand, and my coffee in the other.
"You're very welcome. Have a pleasant night."
I smiled once more in return before making a quick exit. Then I realized he had been wearing a nametag and I didn't think of checking his name. After muttering a quick curse, I slid into my car, and calmed myself by deciding there would be plenty of chances in the future to check it. Especially if the coffee was worth it... I took a tiny sip of my mochaccino and it was perfect. There was also something a bit different about it, something it had that other mochaccinos from other places didn't. Maybe a spice? Whatever it was, it improved the coffee greatly.
I had defnitely found myself a new favorite coffee shop.
And if it was partially due to the attractive employee... well, no one needed to know that but me.
After picking up the pizza (which, of course, was all meat lover's), I brought it home, scowling at my brother's innocent, doe-eyed expression. "Next time, I'll order the pizza," I snapped at him as I place the pizza box down.
"Sorry," he responded distractedly as he lifted the top of the pizza box off. "Mm, bacon, I've missed you so much... You too, hamburger and pepperoni. Daddy's home."
I rolled my eyes at his words, but a smile slipped onto my face as well. "Enjoy, because we can't eat pizza too often."
Instead of responding, he shoved a full slice of pizza into his mouth. Sometimes I believed his mouth was a black hole. Or a portal to another dimension. Either way, watching him eat wasn't pleasant, so I slid two pieces of pizza onto a paper plate and headed up to my room, the cheesecake from the coffee shop under my arm. "Don't stay up too late. School starts next week."
"I'm fine," he called back before promptly choking.
How could my idiot brother be so school smart, and yet so halfwitted? It was a mystery. Just like his mouth.
My room was the guest room of my grandmother's house (my house). Surprisingly, it was larger than the master bedroom, complete with a king-sized bed. Although Dustin hadn't known that when he'd claimed my grandma's room first. A smirk graced my lips at the memory as I plopped down onto the fresh sheets. I hadn't even wanted my grandma's old room in the first place. It would be weird to sleep in, even though she died in a nursing home and the room had been vacated for a while anyway. But still. The guest room, well, my room now, was more than okay with me.
A low meow came from next me and I realized Sherlock was curled up on my pillows, blinking at me lazily. I reached out my hand and scratched him behind his ears. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you bud." He meowed again and I couldn't help but drop my pizza on the side table and scoop him up. "You're so cute!"
Sherlock was an amazing cat. A Mackerel Tabby, black, grey, and white, the M on his forehead a mix of the three colors. He was fluffy, too. Dustin and I had adopted him last year, when I'd finally managed to save up enough money to pay for an apartment for the two of us. After fighting a bit over whether to adopt a dog or cat, we'd finally decided just to go to the shelter and see what popped out to us. It turned out to be Sherlock, aptly named for our family. So we brought him home. And we didn't regret a moment of it.
"Ugh, I have work tomorrow," I told him, releasing him from my arm prison. "I wish I was a cat. That way I could sleep and eat all day with no worries."
His response was hopping off the bed and trotting out of the room.
"Fine! Be that way!" I called after him, grumbling under my breath. The pizza was still sitting on the side table, so I picked up a slice, biting into it cautiously. Maybe it would taste better than last time...
Ha. I wish.
Throwing the pizza back down on the plate, I snatched up the cheesecake instead. Normally, I found cheesecake tasted plain, but as I took a bite of this slice, I took back anything I'd thought about cheesecake before. It was heaven. And I knew I'd definitely be going back to that coffee shop for pastries now too.
When the cheesecake was gone, I settled into my bed, sighing deeply. Fatigue washed over me instantly. Yawning, I rubbed my eyes, trying to keep myself awake. It was an uphill battle— one I knew I was losing helplessly. It'd been a long day, and the caffeine wasn't helping. Giving up, I kicked off my shoes and slipped under my sheets, too lazy to change into pajamas.
As I stared at the ceiling, a heavy feeling of anxiety rolled through me. How much did the heating in the house cost? What about the electricity bill? I hadn't given it much thought before hand, but now, at night in the silence, it was all I could think about. Could I afford it? Sure, the mortgage was paid, but at the apartment I'd only paid half of the bills. Now I'd be paying full...
Shaking my head, I turned on my side and shoved those thoughts away. It was no use fretting over nothing. The price difference wouldn't be that much. And even if it was, I could just pick up more hours at work. I knew moving into this house had been a good idea. Even better if I got to see the cute barista at that coffee shop every day.
Just the thought of him eased the worry of bills from my mind. It was amazing how a cute guy could do that. A goofy grin crossed my face at the thought of him. Hopefully, I'd get see him again tomorrow. And with that thought, I drifted off into a peaceful slumber.
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