This is Our Story

Bitter

She looks at me right in the eyes and I gulp audibly, analyzing every little bit of her face.

She licks her bottom lip and glances at the book I'm holding in my hands, her eyes suddenly clouding with wonder. I bite my tongue and try to act as cool as I can without letting her know how embarrassed I am. Suddenly, the fact that I read it so many times feels so lame and creepy and all I want to do is to get up and run away.

The waitress comes over and smiles at Grace, and they talk as if they knew each other since forever -which they maybe do, after all...What do I know?- she then orders a black coffee and I can't help but to feel relieved. That was one of the things that linked us together and I didn't want it to be gone.

She rests both of her arms on the small table and steal a shy glance my way.

"So..." She begins and I could've swore that a faint blush was starting to appear on her cheeks a few seconds ago before fading away as quickly as it appeared. "How have you been?"

Her eyes are now looking at everywhere but me and I can't even concentrate on formulating a proper answer. A strand of her hair escapes the hair tie holding her ponytail together and falls right in front of her eyes. She blows on it and sighs, but makes no move to replace it. I can't help but remember how that was once my job.

I blink and realize that I took way too long to think and how ridiculously awkward it must be right now. I clear my throat and put the book down on my lap.

"Good." I answer before noticing how formal and tense I sound. "I'm great." I add in a desperate and terrible attempt at correcting myself.

"Oh." She lets out and looks around again.

She doesn't feel comfortable.

A scenario like this always seemed so unreal in my mind. Since when do we act like strangers? How could I have ever made her this uncomfortable? Even back then, before knowing her, things between us have always been based off comfort and complicity, yet look at us now. I feel like punching the bay window beside me.

"So how's work?" I ask, trying to sound casual. "I assume you're working in one of the best law firms."

It pains me to talk based off assumptions because I don't know a damn thing about her life anymore. I used to know everything.

"Uh." She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, avoiding eye contact with me. "Actually, I'm not practicing law anymore. Since... a very long time."

Now, it's my turn to look uncomfortable as I pass a hand over my face, racking my head for something to say. Things shouldn't be this way. All of this feel so wrong and fake. All of this is completely unlike what we used to be.

"Really?" I ask in disbelief.

Suddenly a pang of guilt hits my chest. I'm feeling so bad for not ever checking up on her. I should've, but I didn't and I have no damn clue as to why I didn't. I, of all people, should've wanted to know how she has been after all these years, yet I didn't even send one stupid letter or email.

"Yeah." She answers with a small -almost imperceptible- shrug at the same time the waitress comes over and places a steaming cup of coffee in front of her on the table. "I'm a full time writer now."

That made sense. After reading her first book it made even more sense. I always knew she would be great at conveying ideas and feelings. She has always been much better than me with words. Everything about her screaming writer, yet she never wanted to hear a word about it.

"Wow, Grace." I let out with a small smile. "That's amazing."

"It kind of is." She replies mirroring my smile. "I get to do whatever I want, whenever I want, as long as I deliver some chapters at the end of the week. The current income isn't bad either." This time, I'm not dreaming, she's truly, fully blushing. At first, I don't understand why, but then I realize that she's embarrassed because the story of our past together is what has earned her this income.