coffee
i walk out of my front door into the crisp air outside. i shiver, although i am wearing my same thick, black hoodie. i always wear this hoodie. it hides the cuts. nobody even asks, and when they do i just tell them it's comfortable and they go on with their day. i carry my macbook in my right hand, and my car keys in the other. i can see my breath fog as i pace to my car, which is just to my left in my driveway. I am wearing my usual black jeans with a single rip across the knees, and my black/white vans. i like black, obviously, but how could you not?
i open up the drivers door, and lightly set my laptop into the other seat. although my laptop has been through some pretty rough stuff, i treat it like my child. it has all of my school work on it, and a ton of personal memories.
i have homework this weekend so i decide to go to the bookstore that i always go to to do my school work. it has everything i like in the bookstore, books, coffee, and a pretty good looking worker whom is always serving my coffee. i'm not gay, but if i were he'd be my first option. the worker is always redyeing his hair, but it has been red for quite some time, i think it has been his longest color of them all. why red? his hair is like a floppy Mohawk, the sides are black and shaved, and the floppy top is a vibrant blood red. i haven't really heard him talk, but he always seems to be working there.
i plug the aux cord into my phone and hit my playlist "feelings". although i'm not in my feelings like i usually am when i listen to this playlist, i like the songs i have in it so i turn up the volume and basically yell along. my left leg bounces along with the song, and my right leg remains on the gas. as i take a turn, i rub my hand over my head. i feel where my hair used to be. i shaved it last night, because it felt heavy at one point and reminded me of bad things. now, my head is always cold from not having anything covering it. i still decide not to wear my hood, although I'm shivering from the cold.
as the song ends, i pull into the parking lot for the bookstore. the name of the bookstore is Green Bean Books, and i still always call it simply- bookstore. i turn off the car, and grab my macbook. i shiver again from the cold, and close my car door.
the warmth of the bookstore floods around me, and look to my right and see the coffee spot. i walk over, and don't see the red-haired worker. instead it's a girl with half of her hair pink, and half black. i walk up to the counter and see on the girl's name tag- Melanie. that's a nice name. I could see myself naming a child that.
" what can i get for ya?" she says smiling at me, and i notice a gap between her two front teeth, but it definitely suits her.
"uh, i will have a small white chocolate mocha.", i say kind of stumbling through, i have never been good at ordering, my parents usually did it for me as a child so i never built that skill until i moved out.
"sure thing." she says grabbing the cup, and going to work on my drink. i walk over to my usual place, and sit down. i hope the red-haired worker comes back i think to myself, he's a nice guy. melanie of course seems nice, but i like the way it was. i place my laptop down, and see my reflection in the screen, and quickly turn it on. i still am not used to seeing my shaved head. It's not particularly pleasing for my body figure.
❤
i work on school stuff for a little after melanie brings me my drink, and then i hear the bookstore doors ring it's jingle. barely anyone ever comes in here, because it's a small little location. i look up from my school work and see the red-haired worker coming into the bookstore. he looks like a mess. his large jacket isn't even on properly, and it falls off of his shoulder. we're basically wearing the same thing apart from the jacket, and my jeans have rips in them. his eyes have bags under, them and his hair looks the same. he seems to be out of his breath, like he ran the whole way here. he still manages to look great though. great in just a friend way, though.
platonic
i don't like guys i tell myself over and over. i find myself doing this a lot. telling myself to think something else, feel something else, or do something else.
the worker glances over to me. he smiles, making his eyes all squinty, and he waves at me. i smile back, insecure about my hair now, and wave to him. His smile was far more genuine than mine. i can feel the heat run to my face. i look back to my computer keyboard and wait until he is out of my peripheral vision.
he must have been late to work today. strange for him. he looks like he is tired. i hope he's doing alright.
i shake all of the thoughts away and go back to typing my essay for english. i was working on school, until i start thinking the red-haired worker probably never thinks much of me, like i do for him. he probably thinks my shaved head looks weird. i get tired of arguing with myself, for minutes, over this random bookstore worker. yet, i continually think about him even after this.
eventually, i get angry at myself, and overly insecure for being in the red-haired guy's presence.
even when the red-haired worker came in today, clearly a mess, he looked great. unlike me. i look horrible, and i had time to at least try to look okay.
after reoccurring thoughts about how terrible i look, i slam my computer closed, and want to be in my bed now. i get out of my chair quickly, and push in my chair with anger, making it loudly clang against the tile flooring. i quickly pace out of the bookstore, and before leaving i glance at the red-hair worker that is now behind the counter, working. he looks better, but there's a sad look in his eyes when he looks at me. why is he sad? i shake my head, and walk out the door to my car.
i get into my car and almost throw my computer to the passenger seat. i looked so stupid in front of him, but why do i even care? i don't even know the guy. what even is his name? i hit my driver's wheel and start crying. why am i so upset about a person i don't even know? i look like a thumb with a shaved head. i must have looked so stupid walking out of there like a child. but he smiled at me? he even waved at me. i always get into my own head, and i hope that's the case, because i find myself caring more and more for this stranger. i can't go back there until i feel better about myself, and let my hair grow back out. i do not like boys. i do not like boys.
A/N: have a good day.
