Coffee People - Pedro Pascal by Emma Star

Chapter seven, Hello Stranger

I spend the weekend reading and writing from sun up to sun down. Only seeing my girlfriends for dinner, I take all my other meals in my room. I write until I don't know how to anymore, when that happens I pick up a book. On Sunday I go into a kind of trance trying to finish the first draft. Once words start flowing they don't seem to stop, it's the best feeling on earth. Writing feels like falling in love. Everything I write feels like a love letter. Some tragic stories, others full of light. I love days spent in my window sill typing until I need to pee so bad it hurts. I'm obsessive when it comes to writing. I tend to neglect myself, nothing matters but the words on the page, the world I'm creating. It's the most beautiful thing on earth to me.

When the sun sets on Sunday evening I've done it, I finished the first draft. Five thousand three hundred and seven words. I hear a knock on my door.

'Dinner is ready Mil.' I hear Lydia say through the door.

I take one last look at the last sentence I wrote and close my laptop.

Jessie is seated while Lydia puts the last plate on the table.

'There's more in the kitchen.' She informs us and takes a seat.

'I finished the first draft.' I tell them, a crazed smile on my face.

They congratulate me with a sincerity that I've found to be very rare. They know how much writing means to me.

They know not to comment on my appearance when I'm writing. I haven't showered since Friday evening. Or combed my hair for that matter. I look like shit, but I have never felt better.

Friday evening. Javier and me standing in the pouring rain. The kiss we almost shared.

I haven't told them about it. I don't know if I can, it's humiliating. I wanted him to kiss me, I made that clear in my drunken state. And he walked away. It's as simple as that. They know what happened in the library, safe to say they're not a fan of his behavior and I don't blame them.

Jessie and Lydia look at me then. They always seem to know when I'm keeping things from them.

'How was dinner at Tom and Betty's Friday?' Jessie asks, carefully.

'well,' I start, 'Professor Peña was there.' I say. I look at my plate to avoid looking them in the eye.

'What?!' Lydia exclaims.

I sigh knowing I'll be interrogated about this for the next week. Sometimes they're a little overbearing, I secretly love it. It's nice to know someone cares about you enough to ask you about your life. So I tell them everything in vivid detail, it feels good to talk about it. Even though they give me shit for leaning in, I deserve it.

'That was actually kind of decent of him if you ask me.' Lydia says.

'What, driving me home?' I ask her.

'Well yes that too, but no, I mean not kissing you. You were drunk Mila.' She says.

'She has a point, that was pretty decent, even though it hurt your feelings.' Jessie adds.

That makes me think about the situation in an entirely different way. You're making this really difficult for me Mila, is what he said. I told myself it was simple, really. I realize it's not in fact that simple, it's never that simple. It's hard sometimes to remember that not everyone's brain works the same as yours.

~

The only thing I didn't tell them about is still hanging in my closet when I take the bus on Monday morning. I couldn't exactly give his jacket back at school, that would look weird.