It's Kind of a Love Story [DISCONTINUED]

Chapter 1| Hate at first sight

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                                               PART I

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My coffee is bland.

The coffee at JC's is always bland, it has no kick, no nothing.

I drink it anyway because I paid a whopping one dollar and some change for it. I drink it slow while browsing the web on my iPad. They have free Wi-Fi. That is the only reason I come here, the free Wi-Fi and of course it's by far the quietest coffee shop I've ever been to.

I'm scrolling down on my sisters Tumblr. She has endless pictures of her and her serial killer looking boyfriend: them kissing, holding hands, holding hands while kissing, not kissing, hugging, her sitting on his lap, him pretending to be eating half her face and blah blah blah.

Her other pictures are of her sneering, snarling and looking demure at the camera wearing little to no clothes. The rest of the blog are compliments and questions from her followers about what her makeup routine is, what store she shops from, what bands she likes, what shows she goes to and more blah blah blah.

My little sister, my sweet little sister is a fame-whoring internet star and she's only fourteen. When I was fourteen my main priorities were passing algebra, passing my learners permit test, grieving my mom's death, avoiding the popular girls so I wouldn't get my ass kicked for talking mad shit about them and trying to get Jon Schaffer to fool around with me after school. I didn't exactly succeed at achieving any of those things (I got my ass kicked on a regular basis and Jon only saw me as a friend) but I will say my priorities were way better than hers.

"Excuse me," a deep orotund voice disturbs my thoughts. I look up to see who it is. A tall male dressed like James Dean in rolled up blue jeans and a white shirt is hovering over me. He doesn't look like James Dean though, except for the hair. He has the whole scruffy look going on. Besides his clothes nothing about him says clean. If Johnny Depp, circa 1997 and Ryan Gosling had a baby, he would be that baby. He has very interesting features, the kind of features a male model would possess but enough about his features, who is he.

I take a sip of my bland coffee and immediately regret it, it's cold now too. I wince forcing it down my throat.

"Yes," I say coughing a little bit.

"Do you always wear this many clothes?" He ask. I search his face to see if he's joking. He looks dead serious.

I could feel the coffee rising up my throat. I didn't want to throw up so I gulp trying to get it to stay down. I cough again and again and again. His pale blue eyes are fixated on me. Seriously, who the fuck is this guy?

"What did you just ask me?" I ask him to make that that I heard him right.

"I said, do you normally wear this much clothing."

Yup, I heard him right.

I'm so baffled by his bluntness I say nothing. I guess he thinks my silence is an open invitation to strike up a conversation with me because he pulls the chair opposite from me and sits in it.

"I saw you when you came in," he begins. I didn't notice him when I came in, actually I didn't notice anyone. "And when I saw you," he continues, "I just thought wow, that's a pretty girl but why is she covered up in so much material."

I open my mouth to speak and close it right back. I'm merely at a loss for words and that's a rare occurrence because I always have something to say, always. He however, was not short on words whatsoever.