Axel

Chapter 9

Axel

If there's one thing I never expected from life in this one-track town, it's how incredible the local food and coffee is.

I mean, yeah, I had many a Marley's cheeseburger before. But my experiences with the other eateries around town were pretty limited on account of my flying under the radar. The beauty of Marley's was always the Drive Thru option, but now? North Bridge town is my oyster. And I am slowly falling in love with Symposium.

It's not just the coffee - which is beyond fucking delicious - it's the food too. And the service isn't so bad, either. The staff group is roughly 80% female, and the waitresses are all ridiculous. Food's good, coffee's good, view's good. I literally have no complaints when I come here.

Besides today.

Because Maya, Lyra, Izaak and Tristan just walked in.

I sigh as I weigh up the pros and cons of potentially lifting up my paperback to hide behind it. Pros; they might not recognise me and I'll be left in peace to finish my coffee. Cons; of course they would fucking recognise me because it's a book, not an invisibility cloak.

I set the book down on the table after folding down the corner of the page I'm on (a terrible habit I started a long time ago, on account of never having a bookmark to hand) and pick up my coffee. Deciding there's no point delaying the inevitable, I plaster a smile on my face and wait for Izaak, who seems to be ordering drinks for the entire group, to turn around and notice me. Maya, Lyra and Tristan are lingering by the door, talking to some other college kids.

Izaak pays the barista then turns to scope out a free table. He smiles at me the second he spots me, then he's waving and making his way over to my table in the back.

"Axel, hey man." He holds out his fist to me, and I oblige by punching it. Not a greeting I'm particularly partial to, but whatever. Izaak's been nothing but welcoming towards me, and as much as I hate him for no good reason, I don't wanna be a dick to him. So, fist bump it is.

"You here by yourself?" He asks conversationally while looking around the coffee house like some of my imaginary friends might be hiding behind the plant pots, braced to jump out and yell surprise!

"I am indeed." I confirm as he pulls up a chair at my table. I tip my chin towards my book. "Reading and caffeine. Two of my more wholesome addictions."

"Oh yeah?" He chuckles. "What are the others?"

Oh, I don't know. Kinky sex, weed, liquor, a spot of drug dealing here and there, maybe a weapon or two.

"Cars." Is the response I opt for.

"Oh, for real. As a male, it's like, non-optional to be addicted to cars." He laughs and I suppress a frown. What a terribly outdated and sexist stereotype.

But I know he's just making conversation.

"What are you reading?" He asks as he reaches for my book. It's nothing special, just a random selection I made at the public library the other day.

"It's called Slaughter of Innocents." I inform, even though I'm willing to bet he can in fact read. "A British crime thriller. It's not the best, not the worst either."

"You read a lot, right?" Zak asks as he tosses the book back down, clearly completely uninterested in it. I can instantly tell he isn't a reader. They're easy to weed out. No interest in a book they've never heard of, no curious glance at the back cover, no further questions. He doesn't give a crap because he knows he'll never bother trying to read it.