A Beautiful Life

Scatman (Ski-Ba-Bop-Ba-Dop-Bop) [Scatman John]

Sakura did nothing wrong. But it felt wrong.

It felt like sin, like she condemned her own soul to the flames of hell. It felt like the darkness arrived to take her for her transgression. She could see it from the steam of her coffee, how it spewed from her mug and seemed to trace her form. Reminding her of what she'd done.

Her sin: Sakura Nelson had sex. With the third person ever in her life. She did it without loving him. She did it to feel better—to feel good. She felt like the worst person in the world. But everyone around her told her she did nothing wrong. That it was okay. She was single, she could have sex if she wanted to. She owed Aiden nothing.

Sakura did nothing wrong. But it felt wrong.

Despite the loose fit of her turtleneck, it felt tight and constricting. It was hard to breathe. Maybe it was the person seated across from her; his presence seemed to tighten around her throat. It felt like she was being suffocated.

And when she saw downturn of Jason's mouth, the flatness in his brown eyes, and the way he regarded her as he rested his cheekbone against his knuckles—a confession spilled from him, and he didn't even have to say a thing. She knew how he felt about her. She always knew. But until that moment, she didn't realize how deep.

Maybe it wasn't smart to rebound with the person her ex despised. Even more stupid to do it with someone who was obviously in love with her.

Her posture was circumscribed, shriveled, collapsing onto herself. And her eyes kept flickering between him and the untouched coffee mug. Out of his view, her hands nervously scuffled together on her lap. They'd been sitting for a while and hadn't spoken much. She kept micro focusing on little details about him. The stubble that sprinkled his face, how clean and short his nails were. The collar of his button up was sharp, like it could physically cut something. And his eyes—they looked so heavy, so disappointed.

"You look pretty," Jason said. It wasn't her intention at all. In fact, she hoped to appear less than attractive. No makeup, her hair held in place with bobby pins. But she could have been wearing a trash bag and he'd still have that dreamy look in his eyes.

Sakura tried taking a sip of the coffee, but it burned her tongue. "Thanks."

She saw Jason's eyes shift uncomfortably. "We haven't really talked since...you know."

The mere mention of it had her airways blocked. Their gazes met briefly, and she pulled away, sinking into her chair. A hum vibrated in her throat, attempting to speak but holding back. She didn't know what to say.

"I...I know."

As he tilted his head, he rested his elbows onto the wooden surface of the table. "I'm sorry, Sakura."

Her gaze pierced him like an arrow to the heart, her lips trembling with unspoken words.

"I shouldn't have done that," he clarified, a glint in his eyes that was hard to decipher.

"But I asked you to."

"I know, but..." She saw the unease on his face, as if he was grappling with an inner conflict. "I knew how you were feeling. I took advantage of you—"

"Maybe I took advantage of you," she said, and instantly her eyes grew wet and warm as her arms folded protectively over her chest. "Maybe I used you, Jason. Maybe I'm the shit person here, not you."

He sighed. "You're not a shit person."

"I definitely feel like one."

A silence passed between them. It was unsettling, awkward. Suddenly she could hear the lite rock music that murmured in the coffee shop. The seats, the table, the décor—it was all reddish brown. An ivory light shone above them.