'Frisco.

Chapter Four.

Café Destino was a coffee place near my new house. It obviously served coffee but was also a library and restaurant. It was small despite being all of these things. The restaurant took up about half of the building and served mainly Italian food. I don't know why; if you didn't look at the menu, there was no telling that this place specialised in pizza and pasta. There was no Italian décor or music. It was strange. Unfortunately, the library and drinks bar was left to share the other half. The whole place had an amazing atmosphere. Everybody inside was really friendly. Most of the regulars knew that I have only just moved in and tried to make me feel welcome. I am frequently shot smiles by the people around me and it felt... great. In Ashfield, everybody minded their own business and the rule was: I won't bother you if you don't bother me. It wasn't like that in Forest Hill. When people asked you how you were, it meant that they are actually concerned with the deepest sincerity.

I went to order my usual Caffe Misto, to-go, since I had to leave as soon as possible and unpack. I've delayed unpacking for about a month. Instead, I've lived out of my suitcase and strewn my most used items across my floor. My room is a mess. To be completely honest, the reason why I didn't make myself feel at home was because I felt like it wouldn't be for much longer. Honestly, I believe that mum and dad would give up this lifestyle and want to move back to the UK. If this was to be the case, it was only a matter of zipping up a bag and leaving. Simple. However, the fact that dad bought another car here is proof that they are planning on sticking around a little bit longer.

Jonah was at the till. He was a cute guy, possibly a few years older than me. His hair and his eyes were the same colour as the coffee I liked (by no coincidence, might I just add). The first time he served me, I almost couldn't speak my order. The way his gaze captivated mine and held it hostage made my mind go blank. I had muttered a few syllables that probably made zero sense and, I could tell by the way his mouth smirked that I had also turned bright red. Basically, I had made myself look like an unstable mess in the middle of my local coffee shop within the first few weeks of arriving.

I was bought back to reality by the ding of the bell signalling that someone had entered the shop. There were still a few orders left to be fulfilled before it was my turn. I checked my phone only to realise I had no reason to do so. Mum and dad would be too busy unpacking and rehanging that goddamn wall clock to be messaging me. Furthermore, I had no other friends. There was no explanation for why I had even thought to have checked my phone other than it being instinct. Back in England, my phone would buzz every five minutes and my few friends were constantly messaging me or tagging me on social media posts. I had deactivated all of my social medias the day that we arrived. I didn't want potential new friends to see all the fun I had shared with my previous ones- I didn't want them taking all that I had left of them. Instead, I created a scrapbook of everything I could possibly remember of them and bought that with me. It took about a week to do because I had known everyone for a long time so there was a lot to cover.

I tucked my lifeless phone into my back pocket and looked up to the world's hottest barista, Jonah. He just nodded at me before calling "next" to the person behind me. I looked behind to see an equally bewildered man in a suit.

"Um..." I said. This was the first time I had ever spoken to him and I was mildly upset about it being in such a negative scenario, "am I not a customer?" I continued. My voice sounded sharper than intended and I tried to add a small smile to show I was joking but I think it turned out to be more of a grimace.

Instead of replying, he merely winked at me and called "next" again. I reluctantly moved to the end where the drinks are usually collected and found a to-go cup with my name on it. I looked up to Jonah only to find him staring straight at me. We held eye contact for what felt like forever before he finally looked away to serve the next person. I tasted the hot beverage. It was my drink. I noticed that underneath was a folded piece of paper smaller than a credit card. On the side facing up, "– J" was scrawled in blue ink.

I caught eye contact with Jonah again. He performed a series of gestures that ultimately told me to unfold it. Complying, I found inside another message: "555-1728-919. Thank me?" I chuckled lightly and tucked it in my bag pocket. I didn't catch his eye as I walked out the door. The sound of his laugh and call for the next person followed me down the street until I found a park bench and finally rested my wobbling knees. Closing my eyes, I revelled in the encounter and tried to remember how intense his stare was.