ephemeral

morning routines

as soon as walked into Sandy's, i knew something was off. there was something different about the atmosphere in my usually calm, quiet bakery. today was... weird somehow. darker. tenser. it took just a second from the moment i walked in to recognize what was new. it was him. tate mazzei, in all his glory. his lanky 6'4 frame, black hair, and a pair of matching black eyes. his face pulled back into his usual sneer, hunched over, doing something on his phone.

what was he doing in my bakery? darkness, anger, all sorts of bad things radiated off of him, contaminated the air. when he was around, he sucked out all of the air in a room. he suffocated you, and all you could do was sit there in awe. there was something about him that was utterly captivating. he was the strangest character i had ever seen.

"red eye for tate!" the barista called out, shaking me out of my mental trance, but i still watched him. it was something you just couldn't help.

i watched as he looked up from his phone. i watched as he went to retrieve the cup. i watched as he took a sip from his cup, watched as he recoiled from the heat. i watched as he headed towards the door, towards me. there was a sort of elegance to be found in everything he did, in the way he moved and in the way he carried himself.

it was then that i realized that should move. it was also then that tate had reached where i was standing. we were a standstill.

a second or maybe 10 passed, but it felt like an eternity.

he raised a curious brow "excuse me?"

i could've died. i stumbled away so quickly i nearly tripped. as i was embarrassing myself, i swear i saw a smirk land itself onto his perfectly-sculpted lips.

and with that, he was gone.

i was shook. tate had that effect on you. making my way over to order, all i could think about was tate.

i decided that i was going to make it my personal mission to get to know him. he was just so... interesting. he drew me in to the point where i had to find out more. i had to know him.

"what'll it be hun?" the barista asks.

"a- uhm- I'll have a london fog. medium."

.          .          .

"alas! thou hath arrived!" my best friend, james holt, yells at me from across the hall. the scrawny, african-american boy with clear, round glasses makes his way towards me. "i thought you'd never come." he says while dramatically placing his hand over his chest.

"i literally still have 5 minutes until the first bell." i reply snarkily, rolling my eyes.

"woah, easy there mate. what held ya up?" he asks.

i tense up, just a little bit.

unfortunately, this did not go unnoticed by james. "WHO-HO-HOA, did wittle emory-wemory get distwacted by a cute boy?"

i rolled my eyes, yet again. "no 'wittle emory-wemory' did not."

james gave me a skeptical glance before deciding to let it go. "yeah, okay. so you're still coming over after school right?"

"mhm" was my noncommittal reply.

"great, but why-" james was cut off by the ringing of the first period bell. "saved by the bell." he mumbles before scurrying off.

i have a feeling i know the question that my nosy best friend was going to ask.

.          .          .

walking into 10th period Global History, i had been expecting another boring class period. (un)fortunately, it was anything but. as i was settling into my seat in the back row, i notice another person walking into the classroom. as i realize who it was, my jaw quite literally drops.