Jet Black Hearts / l.h.

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Saturday, August 1, 2018
6:02 a.m.
Dunkin' Donuts

"One glazed donut, please," I say as I hand over a five-dollar bill to the cashier.

She takes the money and hands me my change before turning to grab my order. Once the donut is securely in a little paper bag in my hands, I turn and take a step away from the counter while peering into the bag.

My shoulder hits something hard and I stumble back but manage to stay on my feet. I look up and my eyes widen.

Luke's blue eyes, which are flickering between my eyes, go wide as the realization of who I am crosses him. His mouth hangs open as he looks for something to say.

He looks different. I quickly scan him and notice his skinny jeans (which hang loose on his hips) and the bones visible on his upper chest where his flannel leaves his bare skin exposed just centimeters below his neck.

"Sorry," he finally utters.

My fists clench onto the bag in my hand. I search for a response, but my mind draws a blank. So, like the socially awkward person I am, I end up just standing there, staring at the tall boy.

Luke scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. In his other hand is a cup of coffee. I'm not sure whether or not it's out of nerves or awkwardness, but he looks away and can't seem to make eye contact with me again. Which is understandable; I mean, we both just met each other at a group therapy session for troubled teens.

He clears his throat. "Brinley, right?" he asks, still not looking at me.

"Just Brin," I reply, but my voice embarrassingly cracks at the end. "And you're Luke." It isn't a question, like his was; I know that his name is Luke because he intrigued me two days ago at our first weekly session. I honestly don't even recall any of the other teenagers' names.

Luke nods. He motions to a table for two near the windows with his hand holding his coffee. "Want to join me?"

I look at the table. Honestly, yes, I do want to join him. I want to sit down across from him as I eat my donut and he drinks his coffee. I want to talk to him and joke with him like a normal human being.

But I'm not normal and my mind is screaming at me that he only offered because he knows that I have depression and probably thinks that he'd be doing a good dead by sitting with me, being friendly. Plus, I'm not good company. It would just be wasted minutes of us sitting in an awkward silence because no one really likes to talk to me.

I sigh quietly. "I have to go," I lie.

Luke's eyes find mine for the second time. His pale cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"O-oh, okay." He clears his throat again. "I'll see you on Thursday, then."

I nod. Luke's eyes dart away from mine again, so I take that as my que to leave.

As I'm walking down the sidewalk past the windows of the Dunkin' Donuts, I glance inside. Sitting at a table all alone is Luke, who is staring at the empty seat across from him.

⎸
Chapter two.

Don't be afraid to tell me if I write something wrong. I have been diagnosed with depression before, but (fortunately) I haven't experienced an eating disorder. If I write something unrealistically, go ahead and point it out or inform me in a constructive way through the comments or PM.

Thanks!