My Ex-Not-Even-Boyfriend

Chapter One: Lou St. Omlinson?

"Welcome to Starbucks, may I take your order?" I said, this time using a American accent.

"Uh, sure.." A guy said, probably acknowledging my accent. "I'll just have a coffee." I scribbled his order down without even looking up.

"That will be right up." I said, looking back down to my song book. I quickly scribbled out a lyric.

"Hey, weren't you American just a second ago?" The guy asked, and I looked up. Damn! I had forgotten to continue with the accent.

"No.." I said slowly. "Hey, what rhymes with disaffection?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Uh, disinfection?" He asked, looking at me weird. He had really blue eyes, I noticed.

"No, disaffection. Like not being satisfied with someone." I explained, tapping my pen on the paper.

"Oh. One Direction?" He asked, laughing.

"Ugh, don't get me started on them." I said, rolling my eyes. "That name just brings up bad memories." I muttered, still trying to think of a song lyric. 'I was in love with your perfection, but you left me with disaffection..' and that was it.

"What? Why?" He asked, seeming completely concerned.

"Don't worry about it, I shouldn't have said anything. Here's your coffee." I said, passing him the cup and the receipt. "Just sign here."

"Uh, okay." He said, signing the check and passing it back to me. "Bye?" he said, more like it was a question.

"Like, bye." I said, bringing back the American accent. He smiled and left.

Huh, he looked kind of familiar. Quiffed chestnut hair, tannish skin, bright blue eyes. Where had I seen him before..?

Ah, I'm sure I'm just dilusional, so I shrugged it off. Where did One Direction come from, though? Not many boys like them. Weird.

"Miss." A voice urged in front of me.

"Oh, sorry! Welcome to Starbucks, may I take your-"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll have the, whatever that is." He pointed to a sign on the countertop. I took it he was in a hurry.

"The caramel one?" I asked, there was five different drinks on the poster.

"No! The rainbow one. Yes the caramel one! Now snap to it."

"Somebody needs a personality check." I said in a sing-song voice under my breath while lidding his coffee.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing." I smiled, handing him the drink.

Later-----

"Okay Ms.Cole, your free to leave for the day after you check all the receipts." My boss told me, and I nodded.

"Kay!" I said, and I heard her leave. I opened the counter drawer, where we put the receipts we got for that day.

I matched them up to what everyone bought, and put a check on each one that added up. It was actually fairly easy work. Ugh, Johnny had undercharged somebody by a dollar again. Sure he was cute, but that guy was no genius if you catch my drift.

Finally I arrived at the receipt for a plain coffee. Strangely, not many people buy that. They're more into the extravagant drinks now, like Mr. Bossy's caramel one.

Back to the receipt. I may or may not have checked the signature to see what his name was.

Okay, so I did. It was actually pretty hard, he had a fancy way of signing his name. I think it said Lou St. Omlinson, but I figured that was wrong. Hmm, maybe if I just looked at it closer...

"What are you doing?" A snarky voice said form right behind me, and I jumped up.

"Nothing." I said, quickly slipping the receipt into my apron pocket.

"Good. I'm going home."

"Don't have any apples to poison first?" I muttered, Chloe was a real bitch. With her obvious bleach blonde hair, and eyes so blue they HAD to be contacts. (which they were, I had seen the package sticking out of her purse one day.)

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing." I said for the second time that day.

"Thought so."

Even Later-----

I tossed and turned in my bed, but something was keeping me up. I don't know what, but something was just bugging me. Like there was something obviously wrong, but I couldn't see it. I sighed, turning on my bedside lamp.

I'd moved out right after graduating school, my parents had bought me a little apartment. It was decorated to my full abilities, which meant color, and a lot of it.

It was also ocean-themed, my parents had taken me on a trip to the beach once, and it's amazing. My room had always been centered around the beach after that, and now my house was.

It started in this little mud room thing, with a fake window with an ocean view. The tile was a peachy color, and the walls were painted to look like the beach. The walls were really pretty, starting off with green seagrass blowing in the wind, then the whitish sand, before the water came in, leveled out into the horizon, and the rest was a sky, a light blue color trailed with clouds. I loved that wall.

Next you'd enter a hallway, which would lead you to the white an blue kitchen, bringing you into the living room. Then there would be another hallway that went into the master bedroom, a bathroom, and two guest rooms. Inside the maser was its own little bathroom.

I glared against the new light, grabbing my apron off the white wicker chair and searching to find the receipt.

Once again, I couldn't decipher the signature. Was this guy famous or something? Cause his writing was too fancy-looking.

Lou Stinlinson? No, that was too weird. I sighed, putting the paper down and turning the lamp off. Sleep just wouldn't come. I groaned, and brought out something I hadn't seen in a while. For many reasons.

It was a light green scrapbook from a few years ago, back when I was in school.

I smiled as I saw the familiar faces, and as I got rather and farther, I got sadder and sadder. I missed my friends so much. Sure, I'd kept in touch with most of them, but it just wasn't the same.

I got especially upset when I saw him, and memories flooded back. I tried my best to push my tears away, but they came out anyways.

He had left me, everybody, when he went. I tried everything, calling texting, even ringing up his mom. Eventually, even she stopped picking up. He never once did. I ran my thumb over his face, hatred boiling inside of me. That's what I felt for him, hate. He had never called, never reached out in any way. He had left me, never to return. And I hated him for that. More than somebody should ever hate anything.

I slammed the book shut, throwing it back into the closet on the other side of the room. It missed by a long shot, but it still made me feel better. I turned off the lamp as drowsiness finally overcame me.

I dreamt of him, though. How it used to be. The flirting, hugging, and sweetness of it all. Then I dreamed of the day he left, without even saying goodbye. I dreamt of everything.