Juliette
Rain splatters in a raucous symphony outside, painting the landscape a dull grey. Droplets slip down the fogged windows, as I absentmindedly trace their tracks down the glass with my finger.
"Hey, newbie, don't daydream on the job. The manager'll get mad," Max, my brown-eyed co-worker, reminds me as he wipes down one of the adjacent tables.
"Ah, sorry," I mumble, smoothing down my red apron. I shiver slightly from the cold, and rub my hands together for warmth before clearing the mugs from the chestnut brown round table by the window and bringing them to the back.
The place is relatively empty, save for a few students on their laptops, and some others enjoying their Sunday coffee despite the bad weather. The usual general murmur of voices fills the air along with the churning sound of the coffee grinder and the aroma of fresh brew mingled with vanilla.
I get back behind the counter and begin organizing the clean mugs into neat stacks when the bell jingles, signaling a customer's entrance. I blow the loose strands of hair out of my face and turn my body towards the front door.
"Welcome to The Grind, how can I help—" the words get lodged in my throat as my eyes land on the sight before me, and I feel like the wind has been knocked right out of my body.
Standing before me, in the doorway of the coffee shop, is a dark-haired boy, drenched from head to toe, pale as death. He breathes heavily as beads of water drip down his temple, down his cheek and off his sharp chin. His practically see-through white shirt clings to him like a second skin, doing little to hide the set of rippling muscles underneath.
But I barely notice that, because my eyes are fixed on his wide flashing silver ones, in an intense staring match with my trembling hazel.
"Sterling..." his name is barely a whisper under my breath.
Seeing him in front of me right now makes me feel like that moment in concerts when your favorite artist finally comes out on stage for the first time. And I hate myself for it. I'm still figuring out what I should feel toward him, helplessly navigating my wary teenage brain torn between the two versions of the boy in front of me — the one I think I know, and the one I saw in the video.
How rude of my weak teenage heart for choosing for me.
Sterling marches rigidly towards me until he's right in front of the counter, tensing his jaw multiple times, not once breaking our gaze.
"Can we talk?" His voice sounds strained and dry.
"I'm working now. Are you going to place your order, sir? Or did you come to a coffee shop without the intention to have any coffee?"
I remind myself to breathe.
He puffs out a rugged breath, licking his lips. Finally he breaks our eye contact, looking somewhere past me, above my head, and seems to catch sight of what he was looking for.
"Al!"
No, he did not just call my manager, Albert. The one who scolds me for not organizing the cups all in the same orientation, parallel to the countertop.
I hear the door to the backroom swing shut. A man with deep brown skin and gelled back hair graying at the ends comes up beside me.
Ah, but he did.
"Oh! Steph, my man, I haven't seen you for a while." You're kidding me. Sterling— I mean Stephan and my boss know each other? To the extent that they're on nickname basis?
"Yeah, sorry Al, I've been away. How's Judy doing?"
"The wife's fine. Just naggy, as usual."
I sneak a glance from the corner of my eye at my manager, who's doing some weird thing with his lip.
"Uh... Um... Are you alright, Albert?"
He turns to me with his usual irritated frown. "Excuse me?"
"You looked like you were having a mild stroke a second ago..." I say timidly.
His eyes narrow, and his mouth twitches into a scowl. "I was smiling."
My eyes widen. "O-Oh. I-I... I'm so sorry! It's just... I haven't seen you do... that... before."
"Is my barista causing you trouble, Stephan? Is that why you called me? She's a newbie. Is she refusing your free drink?" he asks, eyeing me cuttingly while scratching his beard. I gulp.
"No. Not at all. Actually, I wanted to ask for your permission to talk to my girlfriend for a minute."
"Your..." Albert's finger drifts to me. "Ah! I see! Sure, sure! Anything for you, my loyal customer."
"Could we go upstairs?"
"Upstairs is closed," I mutter in a daze, though I'm pretty sure no one hears me.
"Yes, of course! Take as much time as you need. Here, grab a towel to dry off. You're completely soaked from the rain."
"Thanks, Al. You're too kind."
I'm still standing rooted to the spot. I don't even notice myself leaving the counter until I suddenly find myself being helplessly dragged by the wrist towards the stairs. I don't even resist. I'm too in shock right now, that I'm pretty much numb to my senses.
Did Sterling just call me his... girlfriend?
He leads me into the upper floor of the shop, a cozier area with faded brick walls, grey slate flooring and warmly glowing industrial lighting suspended from the dark wood ceiling.
He releases my wrist and walks forward into the room while I stay by the door.
The silence rings loudly in the air.
I fiddle with the red fabric of my apron.
What's that thing we frequently do to introduce oxygen into our lungs and ensure we don't collapse from suffocation?
Right. Breathe.
I take a deep breath.
"So, you're back," I say as coolly as I can, trying not to betray my falter and obvious breathlessness.
Sterling stares at me with a serious look on his face, clenching his jaw.
"Yeah, I am."
For some reason the few feet of space between us feels like a few miles, and I'm even colder than I was just now by the window, even though the heater is on up here.
The rain continues to patter in a steady drum outside. Thunder booms, but it's not nearly as loud as my heart thumping wildly in my ears. I hope he doesn't hear it.
"I talked to Felix," he says slowly, judging my reaction carefully.
"I figured." I consciously inhale, pursing my lips together, and rock on my heels. "When did you arrive back in the city?"
"Fifteen minutes ago, before meeting 'Lix at my house."
"Fifteen minutes ago?" I take in his soaked appearance. "Did you run all the way here?"
He pauses. "Yes."
Damn my fluttering heart. It's so hard to maintain a cold and aloof demeanor when I haven't seen him in two weeks and all I want to do is jump into his arms and kiss him until I can't see straight.
But then I remember that video, and I go rigid again.
"Look, Sterling—"
"It's not what you think."
"I don't know what I'm supposed to think anymore."
The pained look in his light eyes makes my heart break a little, and my armor of ice almost cracks, but I keep my head screwed on straight. I suppress the soft side of me that wants to let him off the hook and instead let my inner bitch take the reigns.
"You called me your... girlfriend back there," I cross my arms across my chest and cut him with a strong, narrow-eyed glare, "but am I the only person you're calling that?"
Sterling stares at me in shock. I seem to have gotten him there.
"The only one where I mean it." His eyes widen with dread as he realizes that he may have just dug his own grave. "That came out the wrong way..."
But it was too late because the Grim Reaper had already been unleashed from within me.
"Oh, I'm sorry for being the exceptional inconvenience to all the other girls you're calling your girlfriends!"
"It's not like that!"
"Then what is it like? And choose your next words carefully, because at this point the grave that you're digging for yourself almost reaches China."
Sterling looks at me pleadingly, and he looks so pitiful, all wet from the rain, hands shivering slightly from the cold, which he quickly plunges into his pockets to hide. So I temper my gaze.
My eyes drift down to the ground, and I bite my bottom lip. "Is she someone that means a lot to you? The girl you went to look for?" I ask softly.
"Yes... No!" He sighs. "Not in a romantic way. At all."
"I really want to believe you. But right now, how do I know if I can trust you?" my voice cracks slightly at the end. I look back up at him with shining eyes, "Felix told me to give you a chance. How am I supposed to give you a chance when I don't understand anything that's going on?"
He doesn't say anything, and just stares back at me with sad grey eyes.
I puff out a breath. "I'm confused Sterling. Really confused." I look up at the ceiling, trying my best to hold back the tears threatening to spill. I speak calmly through my burning throat, "I've run out of free secret cards, so I can't force you to tell me. I don't expect you to tell me everything. I can respect that you have your secrets — your business is yours. But now I'm caught in the middle of it, and I just..." I shake my head, speaking barely above a whisper, "I just don't want to be involved in this."
I turn my back against him, quickly swiping away the tear that managed to slip out. I take a deep breath before forcing my feet to move one step at a time towards the door.
But before I can even reach the handle I hear the pounding of boots rapidly across the wooden floor and find myself engulfed in a crushing embrace.
My back is pulled tight against his firm chest, rising and falling in time with his heavy breaths, his long strong arms locking me in place. My breath hitches. I feel his heart thumping hard, a mirror of mine. The familiar smell of softener and his amazing cologne is dizzying.
His breath is warm on my neck, as he utters, "I'll explain it to you. I'll explain everything. Just... don't walk away from me. Please, don't." His head drops to my shoulder, and he inhales deeply. "God, I've missed you so much."
I exhale a shaky breath.
"I missed you too."