The One Who Got Away is Back

Memory 10 ♡ The Snuffing of The Miracle

The afternoon shift at the Magic Cafe meant you best get ready for an intense lunch hour and an even worse dinner time rush, sandwiching chill evenings in between. There were quite a number of tables with customers, all of them working on their homework and for the most part requiring the occasional coffee refill. While the kitchen staff took advantage of the lull to get ready for dinner, the waiters filled their time cleaning every nook and cranny we could access.

That was what Poonam and I were doing as a second focus a few days after the disastrous party. Our primary one was the conversation I'd been trying to escape for the past hour, but no matter where I went to clean, she would follow and continue prodding. By this point we were outside, wiping the window panes. She had already found out from my own dumb mouth that yes, I had a definite crush on the hot AF latino.

"Even though he's shorter than you?" she asked, true to herself in the fact that she couldn't help but point out all the things that made most people uncomfortable.

"Yes," I replied, sighing.

After a side glance she said, "Well, I guess most people are shorter than you anyway."

Thing was, it wasn't like Miguel was a small guy. He was just a couple of inches shorter than me and so fit that I never felt like I could crush him. The way he was framed, long limbs, defined muscles, made me feel almost dainty. And that was without considering that smile he had that made me forget everything that was wrong about me and my life while he beamed it. He was infuriatingly perfect.

Except, he had the flaw most boys had, hot or not. They couldn't help but be blinded by a gorgeous girl.

"Well, you may not want to say it, but what a floozy. Didn't she just break up with her boyfriend?" Poonam scoffed as she wiped.

I'd been trying really hard to not be jealous. I was hurt that I'd been rendered invisible with one friendly introduction, but it wasn't like Becca knew how I felt and still actively sought out his attention. He just gave it to her freely. And she was so nice that she didn't deserve me treating her like shit for petty revenge.

It was just hard to remember this when she'd spent the rest of the weekend talking about how much they'd connected that night or how much they'd texted each other thereafter.

Through gritted teeth I replied, "Yes, but she's a free woman and she can jump into the next relationship whenever she damn well pleases."

"Even if it's with your man?"

I rolled my eyes. "Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but there's no point. First of all, he's not my man. He will never even know I like him."

She wrung out the cleaning cloth in the bucket and asked, "Why not?"

"Because we're obviously just friends." I took a deep breath. "Second, he can also get with whomever he wants. I'm fine with that."

Her eyebrows went as far up as they would.

"Are you?"

"Yes," I replied with confidence, spine straight and chin raised. As the silence of her skepticism prolonged I deflated a little. "Okay, no. I'm not. But I'm trying to be."

We continued cleaning for a few minutes after that. Outside of the cafe the campus life bustled with people coming and going to classes, on foot or riding their bikes. The sky was assembling for the typical afternoon squall, made worse by the fact that summer was upon us and the rain didn't do much in the way of freshening up the temperatures.

"It's okay to be jealous," Poonam said, clearly not done with the topic. "You're human and you can't help feeling what you feel. It's like me and my sister Priya."