Not Like Last Time

Chapter 16

 I was on my way to the coffee shop. In a deep blue long-sleeve shirt with green cargo pants. I debated over my outfit for at least an hour. I had never felt pressured to choose an outfit before. It was Sam, I've known him since I was 13 for god's sake.

The comment he had made over text last night was still running in my head as I opened the door to the coffee shop, and saw him in a nice-fitting white collared shirt and black pants. My heart skipped a beat for just a moment and I cursed myself.

"Hey." He said, smiling at me as I sat down across from him.

"Hey." I answered back, giving him a small smile in return.

"So...Why'd you wanna go out for coffee today? Did you wanna talk about something?"

I shrugged. "No. It was just kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing. I tore a lot of pages from..." I trailed off, debating on whether to tell him about my poetry or not.

"From..?" He prompted, resting his elbows on the table gently.

"From my poetry book." I finally finished. "I taped them to the wall above my bed. Well, not my bed. I'm staying in the guest room for now. I just felt really relaxed after I did that and realized I hadn't talked to you in a while. That's all."

"Oh, okay." He looked like he was about to say something else when the waitress hurried over and took our orders.

"Iced caramel macchiato, please." I answered.

"Just a latte." Sam dug for his wallet and I raised an eyebrow. I was grabbing mine but he shook his head and I could see a slight smirk tugging at his face as he paid.

"I could've paid."

"I know you could've. I wasn't going to let you either way." He grinned and put his wallet back in his pocket.

I glared at him. "When did you become such a gentleman?" I asked dryly.

Sam's face turned serious. "When I finally realize how fucked up I was, and that I needed help. Maybe you haven't realized how much you need help, even now."

Oh. So we were talking about this now?

"I got plenty of help." I snapped, crossing my arms.

"You still need it! Especially after what Cass—"

"Don't. Don't say it. I'm perfectly fine. You hear me?" I let my arms drop to the table, my hands now in fists. "Abso-fucking-lotely fine."

He scoffed. "Sure you are. And my eyes are green." He rolled his blue eyes.

"You know what? It was a mistake talking to you in the first place. All this reconnecting bullshit." I stood up from the table and started walking out furiously, earning a few stares from the other people in the cafe.

Sam followed me. I started walking down the sidewalk quickly, but he strided up beside me and retorted, "Last I remember, I comforted you after she died."

"Do not bring her into this!" I yelled, shoving him away.

He barely stumbled two steps before he recovered. "You're in denial!" He yelled back. "She's dead, Dealia! Wallowing in your own self pity isn't going to do anything about it!"

"I am not wallowing in my own self pity!" I exclaimed, though a small part of me knew I was. I couldn't get over the fact that Cassie's dead, that I need help, and that I'm just a messed up person in general.

"Yes you are! Look at yourself!" He scoffed.

"I don't want to!" I shouted, louder than before. "I don't want to look in the mirror and see the person I've become! I don't want to look in the mirror and see the girl with scars all over her arms that she's too scared. I don't want to see the girl with a brown paper bag full of drugs after giving herself to a random man for her friends that didn't even care. And I never want to see the little girl who was naive enough to think that her life wouldn't be like the other people she saw!"

I turned away and started walking, and this time he didn't follow me.