"I still can't believe you actually have a concussion." Dakota shakes her head, her brown waves tossing as we walk—well, I wobble—along one of the various Civic Plaza sidewalks. "All your years of volleyball and a tool bag is what does you in?"I groan, adjusting my sunglasses to better protect my eyes from the sun. "Believe me, I know. This is ruining my life.""How long till you can get back into sports...and y'know---drive?" She arches an eyebrow, just further reminding me of my current state.
"The nurse said a week, at least," I reply glumly. "I have to go back for a check-up with my doctor but I think it'll be fine. Like I said, they didn't feel like x-rays were necessary---that's a good sign, right?"
I've spent every moment since I left the ER attempting to reassure myself that this is just temporary and will go away eventually but the thumping in my head makes it virtually impossible to ignore.
Dakota clicks her tongue, tucking her hands in her jean pockets. "Yea...sure."
I grimace at my own state before nodding towards the right of us. "Wanna get something to drink?"
Loca Mocha Café isn't necessarily the most popular coffee spot in the plaza but it's definitely at the top of my list.
"Sure." Dakota shrugs and I open the front door, a bell ringing overhead as I let her walk in and then follow suit.
"Welcome in!" a friendly voice calls out from a lady with dark hair, wiping a table in the corner and I wave. "Hello!"
Out of the sun, I set my sunglasses on top of my head and look around. It's pretty dead compared to how busy it normally is.
Most students come here straight after classes though and don't have to take a pitstop at the emergency room.
It's just as well. After my run-in with Amber earlier today, I'm not too eager to engage with anyone from our school.
Even so, I do notice some familiar faces in the few groups lingering-- such as a couple members from Hemingway's dance team, huddled close together in a circular booth with their matcha lattes and textbooks open.
In stark contrast, there's a loud and rowdy clique on the opposite side of the room, with tables haphazardly shoved together to make enough room for their troupe of 'Players'.
That being said, it goes without saying, Harry definitely isn't my first experience with guys that think every girl's dream is just to be with them but at least with the current group we have at Hemingway---they stay in their lane, I stay in mine.
"Kel, you gonna order?"
Dakota's irked tone brings me back to reality, making me realize in the time I've been zoned out, taking in my surroundings, we've made it all the way up to the ordering counter.
"Oh." My cheeks flush in embarrassment as Miguel, the usual barista on the clock, smiles graciously at me from behind the counter. "No hay problema, chica. What can I get for you, mama?"
A sideways glance at Dakota, shyly tucking her hair behind her ear tells me she's undeniably eating up his suave charm.
Which isn't surprising. Most girls choose Loca Mocha Café for that exact reason.
"Um, can I just have an small iced chai with cream and sugar, please?" I rush my order out, embarrassed that it took me so long to say. "Thank you."
"Bueno." Miguel jots everything down on a plastic cup and after I give my name for the order, he instructs Dakota and I to take a seat wherever we want.
"Sooo, I guess you're finally gonna have to come with me on all my shopping trips if I'm driving you everywhere, huh?" Dakota smiles triumphantly, picking up our previous conversation as we sit at small table off to the side of the shop.
YOU ARE READING
𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉
أدب المراهقين" ᴍʏ ᴄᴀꜱᴛʟᴇ ᴄʀᴜᴍʙʟᴇᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀɴɪɢʜᴛ ɪ ʙʀᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴀ ᴋɴɪꜰᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ɢᴜɴꜰɪɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏᴡɴ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴀʀꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜꜱ ...
