Valerie's Guide To Postponing a Breakup

Good Enough (?)

I open the door to the cafe, and to my childish delight, a cliched little bell rings as I enter. On top of that, I'm hit with the delicious smell of all the different possible things I could be eating for brunch today. My grin widens when I look up to see Leo waving at me with a grin even bigger than mine plastered on his face. His green eyes crinkle up, and the freckles scattered around his cheeks and small button nose shift slightly. Everything solid in my body seems to melt. His perfect, immaculately curled, dark brown hair never seems to change. Neither does his lovely jaw, nor do his long eyelashes.

And somehow, I can never seem to grasp the fact that he looks like he fell out of the sky or the heavens.

He reminds me of an angel.

If angels could manage to act like six-year-olds despite the fact that they're turning twenty-three in a few months.

I will my legs to move forward before my kneecaps can become as soft as hot candle wax, which would lead to another embarrassing memory that would certainly keep me up late at night. 

"Hi," I say to Leo once I've made my way over to the table he's sitting at. I sit down across from him, and he grins again, pushing a cup towards me. "I've finally done it," he announces proudly, flashing me another million-dollar grin. "I've remembered your crazy-long coffee order." "Have you?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah," Leo replies, nodding for emphasis. "I ordered some crepes too. They'll be here in a minute. But the coffee is totally ready to go." I fold my arms across my chest, smirking. "Well then, let's hear what totally wrong order you got me this time." Leo narrows his eyes at me, amused. "Fine," he says, taking a breath before reciting my order almost to perfection. "A grande caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso, extra hot, with a drizzle of caramel on top and non-fat milk." The additional warmth on my hand feels gorgeous as I close my fingers around the cup, picking it up. I can't hide my growing smile. "Two extra shots of espresso, Leo. Two." Leo bangs his head down on the table as I take a sip from my coffee, and I nearly choke for the second time today, this time with laughter.

But then, unexpectedly, and most alarmingly, I feel liquid shooting up my nostrils. Hurriedly, I rip a handful of tissues from the dispenser on the table, clutching them to my nose before I can drip coffee all over the table. All the while, Leo cackles at me. The normal reaction would be to glare at him—but Leo's laugh is too infectious. Soon, my shoulders start shuddering with silent laughter too.

"And you call me the child!" he teases, pointing at me. "Gosh, Val, you really are full of surprises." "Whatever," I mutter nasally, but I'm not really annoyed with him. "You'll always be a child, Leo—a clown without a circus." Loo picks up a flimsy paper packet of salt from a glass cup near the centre of the table. "I will open this packet of salt and throw it at you." His mouth quirks into a teasing smile as he bites his bottom lip, clearly trying to contain his laughter. But there's only a split second of silence before we're collapsing into the table, giggling like children.

That's the thing with Leo, though; you'll never properly grow up around him.

But then, the sudden presence of someone else destroys the moment completely. I immediately bring the bunches of tissue down from my nose, coughing into them as if I had simply sneezed. I see a waitress, a girl about our age, approaching our table. She has piercing blue eyes, blonde hair, and a face like an upturned triangle; her chin is sharp. Somehow, it makes me feel better to know that her hair is dyed, though—I can see little bits of brown peeking out from her roots, betraying her otherwise flawless hair. She sets down the plate of crepes with a bit too much force, causing one to slide precariously to the edge.

"Here's your food," she says. But she doesn't really say it to us. She says it more to Leo. I might as well be a gnat. "Hope you like it." I glance at Leo, who doesn't seem to notice how she's completely ignored me, which sends a brief wave of anger through me. "Thanks," he replies, reaching for one of the crepes.

The girl doesn't leave.

"So," she says, still addressing Leo. "What's your name?" "Leo," he replies dryly. "Thank you. Goodbye." I feel a surge of triumph as her eyebrows furrow slightly in confusion. "I'm not done." I raise an eyebrow at her, but she doesn't seem to notice. "My friends over there think you're really fit." She motions towards table five with a jerk of her chin, giving Leo a confident grin. My jaw practically unhinges, but I don't care in the slightest that I look like a fish, gaping at her. My reaction is completely rational. Either this, or I listen to the devil on my shoulder and dump my caramel macchiato on her head.

Leo drops the crepe, his face going scarlet. His hand drifts to the back of his neck—something he does when he gets flustered, which is only occasionally. "Well?" The girl continues, as if she's simply asked Leo about the weather. The blush finally spreads to his ears. I glance over to table five and see a group of girls that all look scarily alike—blonde, tanned, and giggling. "Would you consider going out with any of them?" "I—" The colour of his face intensifies to the point where playing 'Spot the Difference' with Leo and a beetroot would not be a bad idea. "I have a girlfriend," he says quietly, shooting me an apologetic glance. The fake blonde blinks at him through her equally fake eyelashes and then seems to finally notice me. "Oh," she says, her eyes raking over my appearance as her grin fades, her pink lips setting into a hard, thin line. I sniff as a drop of coffee threatens to dribble out of my nose. "Hi," I croak out, smiling awkwardly. I wave, but my brain only remembers that I'm not Leo after my feeble attempt at being friendly. The girl merely stares at me before turning back to Leo. "If you're interested," she says to Leo. "I'm always here from nine to three, even sometimes on the weekends. You know where to find me." With that final, shockingly bold statement, she walks away, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she does. Suddenly, even being one of those lovey warm crepes on the plate seems better than the mortifying feeling that follows.

___

I break a piece of crepe off, popping it into my mouth and licking a drop of fallen Nutella from my fingers. I chew slowly, wishing I could find something to say. "I'm sorry," Leo says, his voice sounding rather subdued. It's reliving that I didn't have to be the one to fracture the awkward silence. "It's not your fault," I say, swallowing. It doesn't seem to ease the lump in my throat. And somehow, I don't feel like drinking my coffee since it's what I've been smelling for the past few minutes. "Maybe if I looked as good as you, people would know we're dating." I say it before I can catch myself. "Don't," says Leo, his eyes softening. "Don't blame yourself. It's that stupid girl. It's her fault—her fault that she can't do her job right." "I know," I say, but I can't seem to believe my own words. "I know." Somehow, the crepe feels like ice in my throat. Leo grins at me, and I return it with a small smile. "You'll always be good enough for me, Val. I promise."

My subconscious won't let me believe him.

Because, no matter how hard I try, good enough is always a question instead of a truth.