Crashing into You (Wattpad Edition)

Chapter Eleven: Coffee with Chance Miller

Chance had struck me as the kind of person who was always dressed for business, like my uncle. But here he was, looking like a normal person. Even his hair, which was always perfectly combed at school, looked like he hadn't touched it since rolling out of bed. Not that I could judge, I was sure mine was a travesty.

"What are you doing here?" I hadn't expected to run into anyone from my new school in this part of town. Before I realized what I was doing, my fingers were quickly combing through my hair, trying to fix it.

"I'm sorry, do you own this sidewalk?" He smirked. "I'm out for a walk. Is that okay with you?"

"You're just pretty far from home," I muttered, crossing my arms.

"So are you," he said.

He's got me there.

We stared at each other for a moment before he continued, "I didn't see you at the game last night."

"Does everyone really go to those? Wait, were you looking for me?"

"No," he insisted, "It's a small school. It's easy to see when someone's missing."

I found that hard to believe, but it wasn't important. We were still standing an awkward distance away from one another, so I started closing the gap between us.

"Where are you walking to?" I asked. May as well make conversation.

"I'm uh... heading to a café downtown," he replied. "How about you?"

"I just needed to get out for a while."

"I see," he said, then ran his fingers through his hair, leaving his hand on the back of his neck, "Would you maybe want to go to the café with me?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, trying to hide my excitement. As we walked together, my heart was beating hard. I wasn't sure if it was because of the anxiety of spending time with someone I didn't know well, or because... well, because it was him.

"Which café are we heading to?" I'd been to most of the shops and restaurants in town, but there were still a few I'd never been to.

"The Nomad's Lounge. Have you ever been?"

I shook my head, so he explained, "It's a small café where a lot of local artists go and share their work. There's art up on the walls that people can buy, they have open mic sessions, live music, things like that. They bake all their pastries fresh in the mornings and have amazing coffee."

As we walked, he told me about local artists he'd gotten to know, events he'd attended, and reasons why he loved the café. His eyes were brighter than they were at school. Seeing him talk about something he cared about so deeply was making it harder for me to ignore the feeling tugging at my chest.

I can't. This is the absolute wrong guy to be falling for.

When we entered the front doors of the Nomad's Lounge, Chance pointed out certain pieces of art on the walls and explained the mediums and strategies that the artists used to create them. Without realizing, I found myself smiling at the excitement that art clearly brought him.

"What's the smile for?" He raised his eyebrows.

"You just... must really like art," I said, my cheeks turning pink.

"I mean... yeah," he said, "Anyway, come on, I'll buy you a coffee."

There was a short line ahead of us, and I took in some more of the art as we waited. On the wall right next to the cash register was a bright painting that caught my attention. It looked like spiral tye-dye, reminding me of the painting in Ms. Thomsen's office. This one was swirls of deep purple, light green, and a cerulean blue. It seemed like such a simple design; anyone could draw or paint a spiral, but something about it was just... beautiful.