Secrets, A Short Story for a ChickLit Writing Prompt

Secrets

Dedicated to @AndyHare because I can really relate to Zelah's coffee addiction <3 If you haven't read Chronic Insomnia, please READ IT! <3

The aroma of coffee swirled in the air of Java Joint. My nostrils filled, embracing the smell as I watched my reflection ripple in the porcelain mug. I welcomed the contrast of the cool mug on my hands with hot coffee within. I stared down at my chipped nail polish, pursing my lips into a thin line. My polish was deep red with a metallic, black sparkle embedded into the paint. I allowed my blonde curls to hit my shoulders. They were soft and wavy, creating a nice contrast with my cream-colored sweater.

My sweater was flopping over my hands. It was fitted and created an inviting silhouette to my frame. Every girl has a sweater that fits her body perfectly, no bubbles, no pockets, no unwanted puckering.

My perfect sweater, I thought. I allowed a smile to appear on my face as I put my coffee mug to my lips. I felt the familiar warm, wet, tickle pool in the back of my throat.

Hi, I'm Julia, and I'm a coffee addict, I thought, chuckling to myself.

I suddenly felt someone eyes on me, as I whirled myself around. At the adjacent table, was a guy in his mid 20s, with curly, dirty, blond hair that was strategically swept to the left side of his face. His facial features were striking as he watched me. He was careful not to make direct eye contact, but he was visibly gawking. His eyes were piercing, blue, aquamarine.

I could feel my face becoming crimson. I bit my lip carefully, allowing the familiar metallic taste to rush into my mouth.

My heart began to race, but I anchored myself against the cold, marble table and shifted in my seat uncomfortably. What's up with this, weirdo? I thought, harshly. I winced slightly as my mind emphasized the word "weirdo."

What should I do? I thought quickly, as I stared forcibly down at my cup, disturbing the coffee stirrer. I was praying that the coffee wouldn't splash every way. I am going to need every drop, I thought, my mind dripping with sarcasm.

The glaring, blue eyed stranger rose quickly out of his seat and casually walked over to my table, my heart leaped into my throat, I gulped.

The coffee had made my mouth as dry as sand, Damn, coffee has caused problems in my life again," I thought, exasperated.

"Hi," he said, casually grabbing a chair from the coffee table closet to mine, eyeing me carefully. The chair made an embarrassing, loud scrape against the floor. Some people's head turned, but most were listening to their music through their ear buds.

Thank god for technology, I thought, as I placed my head in my hands shielding my horrified expression from the mysterious, stranger. Do I dare look into his eyes?

I cleared my throat allowing the undissolving, lump to shift.

"Can I help you?," I snapped.

I stared down into my coffee and traced my finger along the outside of the mug. My coffee was no longer radiating warmth. It was cold. Oh great, I thought, trying not to appear too frustrated.

The stranger tilted his head, playfully, widening his eyes. He chuckled.

"With a tone like that you shouldn't consider a career in customer service," he said laughing hardily.

His volume was noticeable as people turned their heads.

I frowned, "Well, I'm not use to random strangers wandering to my table, uninvited. This isn't a tea party, it's a coffee shop, if you hadn't noticed." I spat sarcastically, allowing my face to become fixed into a scowl.