STAR STRUCK: epilogue continues (book 2)

Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

We're rocking the boat

21 days before take-off 

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Vincent kept looking at me from across the table where he was sitting at. I avoided his gaze, quite aware that he seriously wants to talk about something. I'm just not giving him the chance to do that. 

I know what he's thinking. I could sense the words before he could even say them out loud. 

The start of my summer for the year was supposed to be uneventful and boring and not fun. Yet as unfortunate events decided to roll on without my undue permission. the start of my summer turned out to be so eventful, so hectic but still totally not fun. Exaggerations wouldn't be enough to describe it.

To cut things short, I am quite a mess because of everything. But I wanted to fix things this time! Just, maybe... It's getting kinda late for that?

Vincent's stare is still on me. I can feel it. 

He's my coworker at this cafe I've been working on, a place run by a friend of the family that goes with the nickname of Boss.

Vincent is nice, He's goofy, and he's pretty funny and hilarious too when you give him time to grow on you. I guess he's also, I don't know, endearing? Kind?

But anyway, right now, he's getting really scary. 

The cold lemonade I had with me felt comforting. It felt nice to hold something and do something with my hands to make it seem natural, busier, and less awkward. Despite that, it was all just an attempt to keep out the impression that there was this looping conversation in my head. Vincent would ask me the question, for sure the soonest as he gets that chance, and I know I wouldn't be able to dodge. 

This is how far my social skills would get me. Start with a lame excuse, and end up puking all the words out. It's a mess that I currently don't want to make although I guess I'm supposed to be. 

I stirred through my cold lemonade again using the metallic straw and let the bits of ice that were left to melt all the way through. I couldn't let myself sip any, wary that I might be left with none just when I would need it. The line that indicates how many I still have felt like a warning, like a time I should conserve or else I would regret it. 

The drink is still cold, I told myself while actually thinking about how many days have passed. I also told myself that it was refreshing and it tasted nice just like how I used to have it for the summer. What was happening was that bile was rising in my throat and clashing with the lemon's acid that it hurt.

"How's the drink?" Vincent suddenly asked, his tone pretty much spitting all the things he haven't said. 

The acid that burned came rushing through that I spit juice all over the table. The lemonade that was once refreshing turned into this disgusting puddle all over our food and table. I wince at how it even reached Vincent's face, to which he scowled at me in reply. 

Too out of it to care and complain, he grabbed a handful of tissue and tried to clean up the mess that I made. I did my best to do the same while still avoiding any eye contact.

"Sorry about that," my voice finally came for the first time since we sat down. 

He didn't say anything and continued wiping over his side of the table while I did mine. I figured it was his way of making me feel what he did when I ignored him. The silent treatment however only turned in my favor because that means I still had more time before I could talk with him.