Somewhere Near Here

ｈｏｎｅｙ ｃｒｉｓｐ

chapter 5

h o n e y c r i s p

Clara

16:58.

'The next stop is...'

I leant forward and pressed the button. As the bus came to a stop, I started towards the exit, thanking the driver with a curt nod.

Outside was chilly. Well, chillier than how Summer should have been. I shivered; my lungs were met with the harsh kisses of wind as I inhaled.

A string of profanities escaped my breath along with the dissipating wisps of vapour as I began to run, weaving between little clusters of school kids. But as I grounded to a halt, I wished I'd brought along my camera, for this moment was a pleasant one — the scene was alive with colour and noise; combined with the reddish glow of the setting sun, it made quite the pretty picture. Even in a place like this.

As soon as I was in the shop, it hit me - a concoction of sweet fragrances from the shelves upon shelves of hand-baked goods and freshly brewed coffee wafting into my nostrils all at once. My eyes flitted to the counter, and I squinted to see if Connor was present. He wasn't.

Instead, what seemed like a wiry girl in her teens stood there, taking orders with a smile - a tired smile, no doubt. I stepped a little closer and pretended to observe the menu whilst sneaking surreptitious glances at her. I felt a growing sensation of envy; envy at her slender figure. I was ashamed, but the urge to stare and hope one day I'd be half as skinny as her overwhelmed me. Holy, she was thin. For a fleeting moment, our eyes met, and I averted mine hastily, subconsciously chewing my bottom lip, while she turned back to a new customer, pushing back a stray hair.

The fishnet on her head did little to restrain her bleached white tresses; a single errant strand in particular constantly fell into her eyes. I tore my sight away from her, feeling guilt rise in my stomach, and attempted to shift my mind to other things. (Connor things.) Frankly, a part of me was hoping that he would suddenly appear from the kitchen, ready to see me. But of course, things didn't happen that way.

I ordered an espresso, then after that was gone, I ordered a cappucino. And that was followed by another, and another, and another-

God, I was an addict. Or drunk on infatuation, depending.

And then he appeared; bright-eyed and smiling, a barely formed five o'clock shadow gracing his jaw line, an apron still tied loosely around his waist. He noticed me almost immediately, and I struggled to contain my excitement. My eyes flitted to the clock, which was adorned with mini clay versions of cakes and other sweet things.

17:43. (and thirty-eight minutes, but I wasn't sure, since I was feeling a little blind.)

That was when my sixth sense kicked in — as he unlatched the gate and waved in my vague direction, I could somehow feel the waitress watch him from the other side of the room with a stare of adoration.

It was okay, though, because although Connor might have not been fixing me with the same stare, he didn't look back either. He probably wasn't even aware, but the guilty repose effloresced anyway. And then self-reproach crept in as I noticed her smile droop — it was barely there in the first place.

"Hey, Clara." he dragged out the seat opposite and sat down.

I blushed a little at the sound of his voice. "Hey yourself."

At the exact moment Connor started to say, 'so you got my text after all', I started to say 'didn't expect to see you here'. I cocked my head and began to speak again, just as his brows furrowed while his jaws worked to form another response of his own.