Making It (On Hold Indefinitely)

1.5

1.5

I woke up to a pounding outside my door. Eyes squeezed tight I throw my hands over my face. Groaning I roll over onto my stomach before kicking my leg over the edge of my bed and sliding it down to the floor. The pillow I shift over smells so much like Taylor still and it takes everything in me to keep from pulling my leg back into bed and just snuggling into it.

But the pounding continues.

"Okay, okay I'm coming!" I shout, shoving myself up out of the heavenly pillow and swinging my body around out of bed.

I comb my fingers through my hair while dragging my way over to the door. Shoulders slumped and eyes half open.

With a twist and a tug the door glides open and I open my eyes fully to find a frantic looking Brooklyn standing on the other side.

"What's the matter with you?" I question, licking the roof of my mouth and rubbing my eye.

"If you're here. Then who the hell is this?" She shows me her phone and the image in her screen cause my heart to fall into my stomach.

• — • — • — •

He doesn't answer his phone. Not the first time I call or the seventh time. By that point I had to get ready for work. Every fiber of my being shaking with this unknown feeling.

I try to shower and convince myself that everything was fine. That the picture was fake. Fabricated. But it seemed so real.

My hands were shaking so bad I couldn't even properly wash my hair. I just wound up letting the shower head rinse what little shampoo out, while I just spun around underneath it.

Driving to work was worse. Having needed to slam on my breaks twice. Nearly missing two fender benders. Taylor would kill me.

Taylor.

"Hey!" A voice snaps me out of my thoughts and the weight of the coffee pot in my hand nearly drags me down. I look down at the table in front of me and realize I've been working on auto pilot. "You okay?"

"I'm so sorry. Coffee?" I lift up the pot and offer the couple a bright smile.

"No thanks, I ordered green tea." The woman motions towards her steaming mug and small table kettle.

"Right, sorry." I nod them and carry off on my way. Stopping at two other tables and only filling up one with coffee.

When I make it back behind the counter and slot the pot back in it's brewer I move to busy myself with something else. I wipe away crumbs, refill napkins, check salt and pepper shakers. Things I wouldn't normally do so early in the day because the closers do it all. However this morning was different. This morning warranted a distraction and we were slow.

"You've seen this right?" David stops me when I make it back behind the counter again. Empty ketchup bottles in hand.

Hugging the bottles to my chest I turn to look at what he's showing me, and there it was. The picture.

This one cropped closer. Making the tattoos on Taylor's arm visible, his hair, his eyebrow. Everything that made him, him. But that's not why my breath hitches in my throat.

It's the blonde attached to him. Kissing him. Fingers slipped into his hair. Fitting like she was made for him.

"Yeah." I choke on my words and look away. Setting the bottles on the back counter.

"Char—"

"I don't want to talk about it." My voice is shaky, the bottle slams down on the counter. Letting out a loud SMACK upon collision.