Juliette

three

ᴛᴡᴇʟғᴛʜ ᴏғ ᴀᴘʀɪʟ | sᴇᴠᴇɴ sᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴇᴇɴ ᴘᴍ

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ-ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ ᴅɪɴᴇʀ

William loved Starbucks.

He was only one of many people he knew who couldn't go a day without caffeine, and stumbling upon an isolated diner in the middle of nowhere which didn't serve his preferred beverage, William felt harassed. His last cup of coffee had been during lunch and that was approximately seven hours ago.

A strangled groan escaped his throat. "I'll take the Earl Grey," he said, although positive that he wasn't going to touch it. Along with drivers who shouldn't have licenses, he also hated tea. He just needed something to look at and pretend it's coffee.

The man behind the counter smiled and rang his order, handing him change for his ten dollar bill. "Take a seat, son. I'll be out with your order in a minute."

William nodded, defeatedly, and walked towards a booth near the door.

He was craving coffee and was sure to be cranky without it; after all, he didn't expect his one and only guilty pleasure to be taken away from him when he decided to run for it. The lack of this savoury refreshment in his system, alone, was already putting a damper on things. He didn't need to be lashing out at other people for it, as well.

His head was in his hands when the bell hanging from the diner's front door chimed, and a girl, whose hair was as white as dandelion puffs and dress a striking light blue, walked in.

"Hi, Clayton," she smiled, waving at the man behind the counter who was on his way to drop off William's tea. (William was quite sure it was for him, seeing as all the other booths were unoccupied.)

The man smiled in greeting and tipped off his diner's cap. He waddled over to William's table, placed a cup of steaming tea in front of him, and left, teetering towards the girl who had seated herself inside one of the diner's empty booths.

William glanced at his tea for a moment and then looked away, repulsed by the pungent smell. Doing so, permitted him view of the same black Ferrari that had almost throttled him into the dust road, raging into the intersection even when the lights were red.

"Hey, I know that car," he said, his voice too loud, the effect of being decaffeinated getting into him. He stood up and wrenched the diner door open, scanning the area for the owner who had told him to fuck off with his fingers.

Not a silhouette peeked at him.

William went back inside, irritated, and approached the unusual girl. He was going to find the asshole and maybe strike up a fight with him. This, at least, would drain him of energy and not require coffee consumption.

He would just faint.

"Hi," he said. "Very sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if you know who owns that car?" He pointed at the black Ferrari through the diner's clear and transparent windows, and the girl swivelled in her seat to follow his gaze.

Seeing what he was pointing at, she turned back to him and arched a dark eyebrow—its colour striking in her otherwise pale face and even paler hair. "Why?" she asked, tilting her head to the side as if a bird. Her voice, William couldn't help but notice, was like that of a singer's. Melodic.

"He's a deranged asshole who has no respect for laws. He'd almost crashed into me in an intersection and had there been cops, I'm pretty sure he'd have gotten himself caught over-speeding, amongst other things."

William couldn't help the erratic fluctuations on the volume of his voice. He was quite sure, he'd scared her away.

"He?" the girl asked.

William nodded, confused. "Yes, he. Why? D'you know him?"

The girl shrugged and shook her head, making strands of dandelion white hair fall down her face, obscuring her a little. "No," she said, the corner of her lips upturned. "Haven't seen it around here before."

William stared at her, suspiciously. He wasn't entirely sure she was telling the truth. And while he wasn't completely adept at reading people's minds, he could read people's body language—thanks to his parents—and knew that she wasn't telling him something.

"Alright, thanks."