Not From Around Here- A Hunter Hayes fanfic

Chapter 18-Don't Cry Over Spilled Coffee

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Hunter's POV

I felt Melody tense up in my embrace, as if she suddenly felt uncomfortable around me. Taking this as a bad sign, I let go of her.

"Sorry," I say, scratching the back of my neck. Based on everything she'd just told me, about Ethan and everything else, it seems as if she's almost afraid to fall in love again. I don't blame her, if I'd been in her situation as far as relationships go, I'd be the same way. I looked at her sitting next to me, her face hidden by the strands of hair that had fallen over her shoulder. Bringing her head up to face me, there were smudges of black eyemakeup around her eye. She took the fancy napkin off of the table, dabbing her eyes, creating black smears on the napkin.

"Hunter," she starts, locking eyes with me. Her expression looked pained, slightly scared. "thank you for tonight, but I have to go. I'm sorry." she says, standing up as she grabbed her purse. I stood up with her, confused. "What? Why? Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry, I invaded your personal life, I shouldn't have." I said, silently hoping she'd stay. I know what you're thinking-I like her. Well, as of right now, I don't have feelings for her. I'm simply wanting to give her a little help, but it seems like I'm doing the opposite.

She shook her head, her eyes appearing glassy once again. I hated seeing her like this, all upset. I know she's got some personality flaws, but I can never stand seeing people upset. "No, you've done nothing wrong. I just..I need to think about some things. See you around, Hunter." she said, with a faint smile. It seemed like it was more of a forced grin, than a real one. I watched as she walked out of the restaurant, and I was left alone.

What just happened?

Melody's POV

I can't believe I let myself tell him everything. Everything! That was the exact opposite of what I had planned to do! I had wanted to just go, to get him off my back about the way I live my life, and I open my mouth and make it worse. Mentally cursing myself, I get into my car and drive down the streets of Nashville until I come across a Starbucks. Coffee always seems to make me feel better, for some reason. Walking inside, a bell dings as I open the door to the shop. The smell of coffee fills my nose instantly, and as I looked around, I saw that I was the only one here. "What can I get for you?" a cashier asks, standing behind the cash register.

I scan over the menu for a moment, before deciding on my drink. "I'll get a small Hazelnut Mocha, please." I say, pulling out my wallet from my purse.

"I got it, don't worry."

I hear a voice from behind me. Turning around, I see none other than Hunter standing there, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. "Hunter?" I ask, surprised that he was here. "Did you follow me?" I ask suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. He slides a five dollar bill to the cashier. "Keep the change," he tells her with a quick smile. "and to answer your question, no. I guess we both use coffee as a stress reliever, yeah?" he asks with a low chuckle. I roll my eyes, not in the mood for joking around.

"Thank you," I tell the cashier as she hands me my drink. I head towards the door of the coffee shop, when I hear Hunter's footsteps behind me. "Where are you going?" he asks, just as I was about to open the door to leave. "Home. I was gonna chill in here, but you came along and I honestly don't want to be around you at the moment." I explain, in a 'duh' tone. He stands there, watching me exit the shop. "Wait!" he calls, trotting after me.

"What?!" I shout, whipping around to face him. The lid to my coffee snapped off, the hot liquid spilling all over Hunter. He hissed in pain, the coffee burning him through his shirt. I stood there, my mouth hanging open. "Oh, gosh, I didn't mean-" I start, throwing the rest of my drink into a nearby trash can. "I know it was an accident, don't worry about it." he said, though I could tell he was slightly annoyed. I reached out and touched his shirt, which was soaked with coffee. Eventually, the shirt would get sticky from the stain. "That was a nice shirt, too. Sorry." I say, pulling my hand back. Coffee stained my fingertips.