Invite Me a Coffee

1

I am walking calmly, about to reach my house, when I hear loud footsteps. A boy turns me around with an unexpected push.

"Have time, guy?" the hooded individual said with a hesitant voice. Shit, not again. I feel like I'm shaking and my breathing is labored. I try to calm down and keep my gaze steady. I see how, although he hides his arm a little, he carries a knife. 

I step back instinctively and see how he recognizes me in his eyes.

"Lauren," he says. Yes, he knows who I am, although I don't know who the hell he is, he points his kinfe at me - give me the bag - he barks- Take off your sneakers and give me everything in your pockets, quickly.

I have this month's paycheck, my cell phone, and the shopping my mother asked me to do in the bag.

I start taking down my bag, but then I feel a hand on my shoulder holding me tightly. My eyes water and I almost start sobbing.

I move a little away from this person and when I turn around I can see him. He doesn't look much older than me, but he's taller and stockier. She has light, well-groomed hair; she even appears to have natural makeup, possibly done by someone professional. He looks elegant, dressed in a suit like something out of a magazine or a large building, but clearly there are no large buildings like that around here, nor, as far as I know, any famous ones. Behind him are two men, adults, who don't show their faces. I assume that if this guy really is someone important, they are probably his bodyguards.

One of them advances read to confront the guy who wanted to rob me, but the boy doesn't seem to be very stupid and walks away, without looking away until he loses sight of the supposed bodyguard.

I feel that touch again on my shoulder, from this boy's hand. I turn around and look at him. Two things can happen here. Either this guy just stopped to do my good deed for the day and is going to return to his luxury car now, which I quickly identify, parked near the corner around a few other mediocre vehicles, or they are going to kidnap me right now . Given this option I try to get away, trying to run. But he grabs my arm and immobilizes me.

"Are you okay?" he says and brings his hand closer to my face. He does it so suddenly that I can't react to move away, and he wipes a tear from my cheek. Until then, I hadn't realized that I did end up crying.

He loosens his grip on my arm a little and I step back, but there is something, I don't know what, that doesn't allow me to leave.

"I'm not going to do anything to you," he says as if he read my thoughts, although not so much, because that's what anyone would think. I don't know, shit.

"I'm fine," I say, adjust my bag and leave.

When I turn around, I see that he is still looking in my direction and our eyes meet. I maintain eye contact for a few seconds and then continue walking until I get home.

-Hi, Mom.

I left the bag on the couch, and I went straight to my room. She doesn't greet me back. He looks at me steadily for a few seconds.

-Go and help Nadia with I don't know what, what she asked me to tell you.

I go to his room, I arrive and see my two sisters: each one in their bed.

Paula and Nadia, both younger than me: Paula, ten years old, and Nadia, eleven.

They are very different from each other. Paula has waist-length dark brown hair, with curls like me, brunette and green eyes. Her face is always rosy-cheeked and her mouth looks like it's about to curve into a smile, along with soft features. Nadia is whiter, has short, shoulder-length light brown hair, and rather gray eyes and thick eyebrows. She is always adorned with necklaces and bracelets on which she sometimes spends her savings. It has a fairly long neck.

I sit next to Nadia.

"Hey, hello," I say, trying to sound good, "What do you need?"

-Can you help me with my homework?

I know I shouldn't do it. I'm selfish. It's my little sister, but I'm very tired...

-Use the calculator-I refuse and open the drawer. I leave the calculator in her hand and she looks at me as if asking permission to use it, even though it's hers. I nod and give him a vague smile and go to my room, which is next door. I'm alone, big brother benefits.

He dropped me onto the bed and checked the time. It is six o'clock. With effort I get up and turn on the computer.

I enter the PDF of my practical work and type some meaningless things.

I don't want to do it, I just want to get into bed and sleep. I don't mind failing this one, I already have everything else... and my classmates?

No, damn it. I look for the information and start copying and pasting data.

I open the canvas and make the video with everything that Olivia and Fran gave me (my classmates) and I tried to decorate it as pretty as I can, although it turns out terrible.

I send it to the group and Francisco responds "yes, perfect. I'm already sending it."

I sigh and open Wattpad.

I check my notifications. A couple of votes, I don't know what, comments. A message from that girl to whom I pay a few coins for illustrations because I can't do them all alone.

Nothing interesting. Not now. I'll answer everything later.

I enter my story. Today I have to publish, I have to publish, I have to publish.

I put on the playlist for this story and start typing with my head resting on the table. I correct a little, absently. I'm not doing it with enthusiasm. I do it to do it, to finish it. I'm going to take out rubbish like that. I leave it like that and go to bed.

Awake. It's a quarter past eight. I have a little time to see if I can make my fanfic now.

I start to write and my fingers move without me being able to control them. I smile. I mentally tell myself "I won't write that" because now Draco is in my head and so maybe he understands and I come up with another dialogue.

The cap and the public ended.

An image invades my mind. That boy. I do not even know your name. Which will be his name?

Duh. Maybe I'll never see him again in my life. But what if...

No, Discarded. I'm not going to "investigate" it.

Open google. It's difficult, I don't know his name, or who he is, or what he does, but he seemed rich, so let's start with that. I don't remember the make of his car, shit.

After searching for a while I find a similar boy, but he has red hair and I remember well that this boy had light brown hair. He says his name is just Sam, his last name is nowhere to be found, on any of his networks, which for a famous person are almost empty, but he has almost two million followers and each publication is worth likes. He may just be similar to this guy. Why didn't I just ask his name? Why did he help me in the first place?

My mom says that in a few days I have to start the new high school, but I don't want to. I should spend my last year of high school surrounded by acquaintances and even friends, not in a school that I entered only because of a scholarship where everyone else has money and will see me as a small stone in their path. I know it's better for my education, my future. But saying and doing that is like sacrificing my present just for a chance to find a good university if I get a 10 average.I hate that. She says "It is for your future life" well, im already living, ¿yeah?

I sigh and drop my cell phone next to the pillow. I'm tired, it's obvious, I should rest. But I love the night, sometimes it's almost the only time of the day when I can do whatever I want, so I open a fanfic and start reading, but I realize that I'm not enjoying it as I should. I can't even focus my eyes, and before I know it, I fall asleep, exhausted.

I wake up early, at seven in the morning. I dress in some baggy gray jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt. Then, i go down the stairs, on tiptoe, barely touching each step. I find a bag with slices of bread and some jam, so since it's easy, that's what I'll eat. After a while, my little sisters come to eat with me. Their smiles, so sincerely happy, empty and wide, make me smile too.