Blindsided

Part 17

Melanie

I'm about to vomit everywhere. Projectile vomit the croissants I ate for breakfast all over the sidewalk. Or cry. I could break down in hysterics right here in public. 

Not that it would make this any better.

I really don't want to go out with Jamie. For coffee, or to make Whitlock jealous. None of it. It feels wrong, and I feel stupid for getting so swept up in my revenge fantasy. 

I thought about texting him to cancel, although I hit a roadblock when I realized I don't have his number. And I couldn't ask Bailey for it. No way. That'd be too much.

And since we didn't have training this morning, that left me with one option, and one option only.

Go out for coffee.

No matter how much I'll squirm, or how much I'll hate it. 

Because, in a way, I deserve this. 

I deserve it for acting like an asshole. For stringing people along just so I can prove a point. A point I myself am now confused by.

I hate guilt.

I stop right in front of the coffee shop, staring into it's warm hue of a window. People mill around inside, the sound of clunking dishes evaporating all the way out to where I am. 

"You'll be fine." I mutter to myself, kicking the small gravel underneath my foot.

With a sigh, I swallow the small lump growing in my throat, pushing myself closer to the door. The small shade covering the door blocks the cool, afternoon sun, only dampening my mood. Nevertheless, I push open the door, a small bell rattling above my head. I head straight to an empty table, throwing down my stuff. I sink into the stiff wooden seat, spreading my palms across my thighs. 

I look around the large shop, marvelling at the range of décor. Soft woods pair well with the overall aroma, with large, colorful plants adorning the spare floorspace. Calming, retro posters sit on the warm white walls, with a little reading nook pressed into the corner. Fragrant coffee stems from the bustling counter, making my mouth water ever so slightly. I can see why Natalie recommended it, it's extraordinarily beautiful. So tranquil and immersive, so exquisitely bustling yet quiet.

"You there Melanie?" My whole body jolts at the unfamiliar voice, my eyes flying to the figure. 

Oh, he's here.

"Oh, hi Jamie. Sorry, I was just looking around. This place is beautiful." I stutter out, eyeing him as he sinks into the seat in front of me. 

"Yeah, it's okay I guess. I've seen better coffee shops, though." I plaster on a fake smile as he rambles, not really caring about anything he's saying.

Is that rude? Probably.

"Well, I can go order us some drinks if you'd like. How do you take your coffee?" he continues, standing from his seat. 

"Uh sure. I'll get an ice coffee with almond milk. Thanks." he nods, stepping away from the table a few seconds later. 

Finally, a minute to breathe. 

I let my eyes flutter closed, massaging the incoming migraine that I'm sure will arrive. 

Suddenly, everything feels too much. 

The smell of roasting coffee beans is too strong, the air too thick, the soft music far too loud. Everything feels sticky, my hair feels staticky, my boots too heavy. 

So, so, wrong.

A splat of liquid lands on my hand, pulling me away from the overwhelming sense of this place. A coffee is placed in front of me, a smiling Jamie staring at me from above its lid.