October.
I quickly averted my gaze to my chipped nail polish nail polish from months ago and then to my fingers that rested on the table but were now in a mess since I couldn't stop fiddling them. "Michael," I called, through gritted teeth, my gaze still on my hands. "Michael he's staring at me." Suddenly I felt insecure and nervous again, which was kind of comical, seeing that this l h boy was literally just a street across from me. Why the hell was I so nervous?
Michael was just about to turn his head to his direction when I stopped him. "No, don't!" I whisper-yelled. "If you look now, he'll know we're talking about him."
Michael stifled a laugh. "Why are you whispering? S'not like he can hear you, anyway." He was right. Damnit. This day isn't going too well. I want to throw up.
"Well, yeah, but have you seen the guy? S'like he could look into your eyes and read your soul, or something. Yeesh."
"Tobe, relax," Michael spoke calmly, whereas I feel like the café is getting smaller and smaller and the thoughts of l h having his eyes on me makes me want to rip myself to shreds until I'm no longer visible.
Michael brought his hand to his mouth, pinching his lips and looking at me in deep thought while I tilted my head at him. What was he thinking about?
A devious smirk came across his lips. Oh god, this wasn't going to be good. "I got it!" he blurted out, making half of the tens of people in the coffee shop glare at him and give him looks as he sunk into his seat while I giggled.
He licked his lips and stole a quick glance at the boy across the street, who was indeed, still looking at me.
"You're going to go over there, and-"
"Nope. Nuh-uh. Absolutely not. En aucune façon. I'd rather bury myself in a snake hole than do that. Like, with a bunch of snakes."
"Well it's him we're talking about here. Wouldn't be much of a difference, don't you think?" That was true, by the way he was looking at me intently, it was like he was a cobra devouring its prey - with his eyes. And I don't know if that's a good thing or not. I squirmed in my seat.
Go, do it! My inner conscience tells me. You never know what could happen!
No, don't do it! My mind interrupts. You never know what could happen!
I groan and put my head in my hands, earning a confused look from Michael. "I don't know," I finally squeaked, feeling suddenly drained.
"Yes, you do." Michael encouraged, taking my wrists in his hands and I brought my head up to look at him. "I'll sneak a cookie from the front and hand it to you on your way out. That way Bruce won't know I took it in the first place."
After a minute of contemplating and battling with worries and doubts, I decided, fuck it. Like I said, I was determined. "Alright."
Michael squealed (I know, it was terrifying for me as well) and slid out of his seat slyly, as if this was some James Bond shit he was pulling. After a few minutes, he came back panting - which I still don't have the reason as to why he looked like he ran half a mile - and with a smile plastered on his face he handed me a Starbucks wrapper with the cookie in it.
"Remember," Michael warned, as we both stood up. "He touches you, makes even one move, and he's dead." He deadpanned, giving me a stern look.
"Aye aye, captain." I saluted him giving him a quick hug. "Go on," he motioned towards the door. "Skedaddle!" I eyed him skeptically but giggled and walked to the door but stopped abruptly. Holy shit, I thought, this is fucking happening. I was going to find out who my l h boy is.
