Coffee Stains ➣ s.m

I.

o n e

Snow falls quietly as the sun pops above the skyline, tiny white flakes sticking to the frozen pavement. Broken fragments of ice crunch under my feet as I walk the fading sidewalks of my town. I clutch my coat tighter around myself as a gust of wind blows my hair back in a whirl. It's been unusually cold for early October lately, the cloud of my breath reminding me to invest in a new winter coat.

The familiar chime of a doorbell catches my attention as I approach the coffeehouse at the end of the block. I waste no time rushing inside, hair clinging to my frosted cheeks, but I simply brush it off. The familiar sweet, yet bitter, scent of fresh coffee grounds fills my senses as I take a seat at a bar stool.

"Good morning, Miss Ackerman. Would you like your usual?" a petite elderly woman stands at the counter, her wrinkled mouth stretched into a pleasant grin. Miss Carter works almost every day of the week except for Saturday's and she always has an inviting grin on her face every time I see her.

"Yes. Two pumps of cream this time, though...please." I ask, handing her three dollars. She takes it, placing it in the cash register before disappearing into the back room. I glance around the little coffee shop, the burgundy brick walls decorated with warm, white stringed lights that compliment the dark wood floors. I look around to see who is here today, noting two middle–aged men sitting by the window of the store in what appears to be a business–oriented meeting, and a much younger man sitting at the farthest end of the coffee bar from me. For whatever reason, my curiosity gets the best of me, and I subconsciously gape him.

He reads a newspaper, his amber eyes fixated in concentration on the article. His soft, brown hair is quiffed back and his hand mindlessly rubs the back of his neck. I glimpse an intricate design of black ink peeking out from under his sleeve, but before I can tell what it is, his amber eyes advert from the article. He glances at me, my heart leaping when I realize he has caught me staring. The boy simply smirks, glancing back at his paper. I quickly turn away, the incident leaving me stunned and more or less embarrassed.

Miss Carter approaches the bar, handing me my freshly-brewed coffee. I take it, thanking her politely and handing her a generous tip. She grins, disappearing in the back once more. I walk past the mysterious newspaper boy, my eyes burning holes in the ground as I exit the coffee shop. I'm yet again greeted by the chilly weather, thicker snowflakes tumbling lazily down from the sky. I shiver at the sudden temperature change.

It takes me about ten minutes to walk to the school, the first bell of the day ringing shortly after I arrive. Crowds of students flock to the doors as everyone rushes to get inside the heated school.

Melted puddles of tracked–in snow gather in a puddle in the lobby, a janitor rushing feverishly to mop it up before someone slips. I carefully venture around the water, placing my feet on the few dry spots on the ground. I almost make it to the carpeted floor when I feel my right foot slide out from under me and I fall backward. I cry out in panic, anticipating the hard fall to come. But it doesn't.

Instead, two familiar strong arms steady me back on my feet.

"Oh, hey there." the owner of the arms greets, leaning in and kissing me softly. I smile.

"Good morning, Jack." I answer.

Jack has been my boyfriend for just a little over a year now. He's tall; actually much taller than me to the point it's almost frustrating for me. His chin reaches the very top of my head. He has dark hair and an olive skin tone that's  much darker than mine. He's well known for playing baseball on one of the best exclusive teams in our state (with three of his best friends), so it isn't much of a surprise to anyone when his team makes it to the later stages of the championship competitions they attend every year.