The Run-In

Mochi God

As I pull into the café's parking lot the next morning, I notice that Arazely's red Sedan isn't sitting there. It's unusual; she tends to be here early in the morning.

Sighing, I park my car in its reserved space and fish for the ring of keys in my glove box. I grin victoriously as the glittery ring of keys emerges from the depths of the glove compartment. The satisfaction is momentary, though; I now have to find the correct key to the back door.

I hop out of my car and lock the doors behind me before shuffling towards the café. The keys jingle as they bounce in my fingers, a bright little melody. I begin poking the door's lock with each and every key, waiting hopefully for the correct key to slide in smoothly and let me into the warm café. I want to get inside soon; it's cold enough for me to see my breath in the air. I exhale irradiated puffs of carbon dioxide into the crisp air with each ill-fitting key.

This is taking too long.

It's still dark enough for a few stars to pierce through the faint haze of the sun, which makes me a little uneasy. Rapists and mobsters are as likely to appear in the day as they are in the night. A little bit of sunlight doesn't make me any safer from them.

I grow panicked as the line of untested keys diminishes, leaving me with only three more.

What if I don't have the right key with me and I can't get in? What if Arazely ends up sick and can't let me in the café? What if I get kidnapped while I'm anticipating her arrival which never comes? All of these thoughts surge through my head as I get down to the last key on the ring. It's a basic silver one with long, jagged edges. I turn it over in my palm, eyeing it fearfully.

Please work, I pray silently, squeezing the key tightly in my hands for good measure.

"Excuse m— AHHH!" I shriek, throwing myself against the café door in surprise. My hand catches on the door, the force of my jump slicing the key through my palm. Heart racing, I clutch my hand in agony as ruby-red blood sleeps through my fingers.

"Oh my God, are you alright?" cries a voice in alarm. I keep my face pressed up against the glass door, too terrified to turn around.

"Are you alright?" the voice repeats loudly. I recognize it as a male's voice.

"Please don't hurt me!" I sob through clenched teeth, pressing against the cool glass door even harder. "I'll give you my wallet, my car keys, just please don't take me—"

"Why would I do that?" the voice cuts in, slowly growing louder as the person walks towards me. "I'm not going to hurt you, I swear; I was just trying to ask for some directions."

I inhale sharply, each shallow breath cutting my throat. My breathing eventually deepens, and my wildly pulsating heart slows to its regular beat. I warily pull myself off the door, my soaked cheeks leaving fog on the glass. I huff a deep breath and turn to face the person behind me, wiping my tear-stained cheeks with my shirt sleeve.

I nearly lose my breath again when I meet the gaze of the most beautiful man I've ever seen.

His fluffy, milky-brown hair is styled smoothly into an elegant part down the center of his forehead. His eyes are a deep mocha shade, wide and clear and bright in spite of the fact that they could suck the sun into oblivion. His cheeks are ample and flushed, as smooth as they are round. His full lips fill the lower half of his face, deliciously plump and luscious. His jaw line contrasts greatly against the rest of his soft features, so angular and razor-sharp that I wouldn't doubt it if he said he could cut bread with it.

I bet he could.

A plain white sweatshirt hangs loosely from his body whereas his tight jeans hug his thighs, practically bursting from the seams in an attempt to contain the muscle beneath.