Fearless Beings

Chapter 26

Mia's POV:
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"Mia, right?"

I turn around at my name. "Mark!"

He laughs and runs to me. "Long time no see, huh?"

"Yep," I say, smiling. Mark smiles back and hugs me.

He shifts from one foot to another, an easy smirk playing on his lips. "Wanna join me for a drink?" he asks.

I contemplate the idea and weight my choices. Seconds later, I shrug and say, "Sure, why not?"

He flashes me another smile and grabs my hand, pulling me down the street. I have trouble keeping up with him, especially since I'm wearing these ankle killers aka Sherri Hills navy high heels. "Mark, slow down."

He laughs and says, "Relax. We're already here."

I look up at the coffee shop, the aroma hitting me like a brick. "Mhmm."

Mark smirks at me, his eyes glinting with euphoria. He stares at the shop's logo proudly and says, "This basically has the best coffee in New York."

I chuckle. "No wonder."

He leads me in. "Y'know, you're really cute when you're lost in thought."

I haven't noticed I was staring at him until he spoke. Trying to act nonchalant, I shoot him a smirk and mumble, "I'm always cute."

He laughs, "Whatever you say, princess."

"I'm pretty sure you're supposed to say, 'your highness', Mark," I remark, my voice wavering as I giggle.

Mark pinches my cheeks but says nothing, instead, he ushers me to a table at the far corner of the shop. He holds up one finger and walks away, silently indicating that he'll be gone for a minute or so.

I start humming softly when a hand lands on my shoulder. I turn in my seat to look up at the person only to realize that I don't know them.

"Excuse me?"

The old man furrows his non-existent brows. He has glasses perched at the tip of his nose and a dark skin complexion. "I know you."

I start shaking my head. "I'm afraid you're mistaking me for someone else, sir."

"No, no," he insists. "I know you."

Mark approaches the table with two steaming coffee mugs. "These are my choice--meaning, you won't regret them, because--" he frowns at the old man then smiles brightly. "Hey, Mr Cookie!"

Cookie?

"You know Mia?" Mark asks the old man.

Mr Cookie nods, his eyes still glued to me. "Except her name's not Mia." Now that he talks long sentences, I take notice of the accent leaking into his tone.

Mark quirks a brow. "Nah. You're probably mistaken."

"No, no," Mr Cookie repeats, his voice forceful. "That's not her name."

I huff. "Okay, fine. That's not my name. Anything else?" He's getting annoying.

"Mia!" Mark scolds.

"What? Honestly, sir, I don't know you. So please don't go around pointing fingers and claiming people wrong when they tell you their name. So, if you're not psychic--which you clearly are not, since they don't exist to begin with--I suggest you--"