kiwi || h.s [edited]

Chapter Four

A week of training later and I was off on my own. Harry was an oddly talkative man that spoke at the pace of a sloth at time or a drugged squirrel when excited. I headed straight for the lockers where I threw my bag and phone in. I grabbed one of the clean aprons that hung on the wall, wrapping it around my waist and hummed along to whatever music was playing through the speakers. I had assumed it was Harry's choice of music seeing as he was the only one that every knew the words to all the songs that ever played. I'll never admit it, but he's got bar better taste in music than I do.

"Winters"

I snapped my neck in the direction of the voice. He his apron had evidence of flour all over it and his white t-shirt sat snuggly against his waist.

"Amelia," I corrected him.

"I know," He graced me with a cheeky smile before leaning against one of the metal lockers, opposite me.

"Where are you from?"

"What makes you think I'm not from around here?" I crossed my arms over my chest.

"I've got a pretty good memory and I think I would've remembered a face like yours,"

I snorted at his little compliment as my cheeks heated up, the embarrassment pooling all around my face and throat. There's nothing quite as nerve-wrecking as an absolutely gorgeous man staring down at you.

"I moved out away, about five years ago and, um, due to circumstances I just decided it was best to come back," I shrugged as I provided him with a rather vague idea of my reasoning for return. I had been avoiding his eye contact since the beginning of our conversation but when no reply follow I glanced at him to find him staring at me. No in a vulgar way, more like perplexed.

"Okay, your turn," I walked out of the locker room and headed to the front of the store where I began wiping down the counter.

"For what?" He moved toward me, once again alerting my fight-or-flight response. He shifted aside and I realised he had only been reaching for a mug.

"Well, Winters," He paused to emphasise my last name. "Most conversations require a back and forth of questioning," The sarcasm dripped from his lips like air.

"I don't enjoy people prying, so I tend to not do ask," I retorted.

He paused for a moment, thinking about how to reply. I could see him trying to figure out a way around him hesitation.

"I will respect that, but as a compromise – how about we trade a question a day."

It was now my time to pause. I didn't know Harry. Nothing about this town felt familiar anymore but could just sense his relentlessness. Whether I agreed today or tomorrow, he wouldn't give up until I did. So, deciding that a little conversation wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to me, I agreed.

"What's your favourite thing to do?" He jumped at the chance I had afforded him.

"Uh ah, you've already tired your question for the day," I shook my index finger at him, grateful for the escape our deal had afforded me. Just as he was about to intervene, a customer walked in. as if the first drop before the rain fell, the customers didn't stop rolling in. the day was busy, a fact I rather enjoyed. What I didn't enjoy was the fact that amongst all the busyness I found myself stealing glimpses of Harry. For some odd reason, the invasive man intrigued me. I'm not a liar so I won't deny that he was terribly attractive but looks fade so that wasn't the hook for me. It was just the way he carried himself. The way he interacted with every customer or one of the other baristas. He was kind and interested. He manoeuvred around the little shop like a little sunbeam. It was captivating to watch someone move around with such ease. Like nothing weighed them down.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," He smirked, upon the moment he caught me staring. I hadn't realised I was staring until he pointed it out and for the second time in the same day, my cheeks flushed red and embarrassment washed over me. I remembered that originally, I was heading to the kitchen before I was stopped by my unconscious staring. I gripped the tray in hands a little harder. Once I had dropped the tray on the metal counter and emptied the mugs and plates into the basin, pressed my trembling hands into my cheeks as I shut my eyes. My face was practically burning with embarrassment. When I finally opened my eyes, a shriek shot from lips.

Andrew.

His lifeless body was sprawled across the white tiles. The blood pooling from his body onto the previous clean floor.

The hallucination was intense but short lived. As soon as Harry threw the kitchen door open Andrew dissipated. The blood along with him.

"Are you okay?" Harry eyed me cautiously as he stepped closer to me. The sudden lack of space between us caused an ocean of discomfort to swell within me. It forced me to take a step back, establishing space between Harry and I again.

"Yeah, sorry, um, I just thought I say something..." My words came out messy and incoherent as I was still trying to make sense of exactly what had just happened. It was so vivid, and I wondered that if Harry hadn't run it, if I would've been able to touch him. Just one last time.

"But it was just a figment of my imagination," I shook my head at the ridiculous idea – Andrew was gone, and I had to deal with that.

"You sure?" Harry asked again. Sympathy hung heavily in his emerald eyes. It made me want to run away and vomit at the same time. I needed to get away from his intense gaze. I slipped around him and walked away without acknowledging his question.

The busyness quickly consumed me again and passed by in a blur, similar to the past two years. After closing and clearing all the tables and cleaning all the equipment, I was fumbling through my belongings in my locker when I thought of Andrew's sudden appearance. I hadn't been able to focus on anything since it. And I was still consumed by it as I stepped away from Harry and collided with a hard surface. Drawn from my daze, I realized I had collided with Harry.

"Earth to Winters," He chuckled, his large hand wrapping around my upper arm.

"Sorry," I muttered trying to move away from him but found it difficult as he still had a hold on my hand.

"Um, Harry you're holding my arm,"

"Oh, sorry," He chuckled, releasing my arm and allowing me to move past. Just before I was out of eyesight he yelled out a question that caused me to almost trip over my own two feet.

"Would you like to me for ice cream along the beach?"

"I, uh, no. Sorry," My reply was short and messy. I didn't even wait for his reply and immediately just ran for safety. The car. I sat in the driver seat with the keys shaking in my hand. My pretence was starting to fall apart. I knew that. But I didn't want his pity. Or sympathy.