Coffee and Spilled Ink

Chapter 1

I started writing because of you.

I write everyday now. It's my way to cope with what you have left me with. Or rather, what you have left me without. 

Everyone tells me that I shouldn't love you anymore. I know that I shouldn't. But, I do. My God, I do. 

When someone else touches me, I feel your finger tips. When someone else kisses me, I still taste your lips.

And I really wish I didn't.

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The first time I touched you, it felt like I had the universe at my fingertips, and I felt so unworthy of such beauty. Do you remember that? The rush of electricity; the air caught in my throat - the same air that you said got caught in yours.

It was like a scene out of every cliche book or movie that has ever existed. You helped me carry my books to class. I suppose I looked a mess. It was the end of the day, and my hair was disheveled, and I genuinely had no idea what I was going to do for the next three years of high school other than be a completely hot mess. And then, I accidentally brushed my shoulder up against you, and I swear, the world stopped. And that electricity - that was real, regardless of what either of us say now. There was a spark, and there probably always will be, even if our pride won't let us recognize that anymore.

Anyway, you gave me your number and told me to text you. At first, I thought it was a fake number. I flashed back to the fat, ugly girl I used to be. You know, the one who was asked out as a joke? Hell, I even had people pretend to be my friend as a joke. When I lost a lot of weight in the following years, my friendships and overall relations with people improved, but in the back of my mind, I always felt as though everything was a total joke and that I was replaceable to everyone, forgettable even.

So, of course, I was surprised when you texted me back. I didn't want to seem to eager, so I didn't respond right away, but I still remember that feeling of complete joy and relief to this day. We set up a day to get coffee, and that was that.

I don't know if I was trying to prove it to you, or if I was trying to prove it to myself, but this time, I was not going to be crazy.

With that in mind, when I walked into the coffee shop, I tried to keep my cool. I pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear when I noticed you waving at me from a table by the window. I shyly waved back and you motioned for me to come over. I thought I was going to trip over my own feet. Everything was moving in slow motion, but my heart was racing. I felt like I was going to pass out. I reminded myself that you were just a human being.

But if you were a human being, I thought to myself, you were one specially crafted by God Himself.

I took a deep breath and sat down.

"Hi," you said. "You look incredible."

I didn't think so, with my black skinny jeans and a sweater that was a blend of the colors of the leaves on the ground. Still, I thanked you. "You look pretty good yourself," I responded, trying to keep a chill repartee going.

You had a band tee on and some baggy jeans. You looked so comfortable, and your blonde hair reminded me of honey with the way the sun hit it against the window.

"Oh, yeah? Thank you," you said. I didn't know what else to say so I just twiddled with my thumbs. I felt stupid. I kept wanting to talk, but the words wouldn't come out. What if I sound stupid? I thought. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I annoy him? WHAT IF WHAT IF WHAT IF?

Finally, you broke the silence, "So, do you want to get some coffee? I'll buy it."

"No, you don't have to do that," I responded.