The Porsche, The Beetle And How I Got Here

Chapter 11

I woke up the following morning, with a memory nagging in the back of my mind, causing both a warm feeling, complete with tiny butterflies I my stomach and the feeling of regret. It was only a few seconds later I remembered tho, and the flashback of the events from last night paralysed me.

“I fucked up, I fucked up, I FUCKED UP.” I mumbled into my palms. No, because it wasn’t you who leaned in for the kiss. You didn’t start it, it wasn’t your doing. A silent voice in my head told me.

“I still liked it!” I responded out loud, making me feel like a even bigger fool than usual.

I laid in my bed for a little longer, before I decided to roll over and grab my phone. I’d gotten a text from Rachel, asking if I could help out at the café tonight, to which I wrote I’d be there at four, in time for the shift.

I’d just send the text, when I realised I still had some unread messages.

Richard:

01:07; Did you get home alright?

01:09; You’re probably asleep, sorry!

01.19; I’m sorry for the, you know. I shouldn’t have done that, I hope you can forgive me.

My heart was pounding and my cheeks flushed to an extreme degree. He regrets it. The meaning of his texts hit me hard, leaving me with a much bigger emotional wound than it should have. I sat for a moment, before I started typing, then deleting, then wrote a new text, before deleting that one too, and starting on a third.

“It’s ok, I didn’t mind.” My text read. I looked at it for a while before deleting that one too. I can’t write stuff like that to a married guy! My brain yelled at me, before I started on the fourth.

Me:

09:36; Honestly everything is ok, we were both a little drunk last night and the setting almost demanded it.

I sat and starred on the text, even after I’d send it, trying to figure out if it was written correctly, like it was important that it told him that nothing was “broken” between us, and it wasn’t his fault, but without sounding too love struck.

I finally decided to put the phone aside and went out into my kitchen and started preparing breakfast, which roughly consisted of some cereal and a cup of tea, before I sat down on my lovely couch, and turned on the telly.

I browsed through the canals for a bit, trying to find something to watch, and ended up watching a very old episode of Pointless on BBC Entertainment. As usual, the people who got to the finale, failed and didn’t get their thousands of pounds, but, they got the trophies… like c’mon, who want these stupid Pointless trophies? They’re ugly and they only show how much you fucked up on national television, without gaining anything.

But honestly tho, with that being said, I actually really like Pointless, I just find the show and it’s prices a bit, ehm pointless.. See what I did there? I know, not funny.

As the show ended, the “trailers” for other shows filled the screen for a few minutes, before the well known intro started, and Jeremy voice commented on the small preview, before the scenery shifted to the studio.

I smiled slightly when the three of them started talking, but quickly decided to leave the guys and take a shower.

When I exited the shower I checked my phone, Rachel had written back, telling me how much she loved me and couldn’t wait to get an experienced barista back behind the counter.

I dried my hair, slipped into some clean underwear and found some clothes in the colour of the uniform. I checked my phone again, and the message icon lighted up again.

Richard:

14:49; Thanks Karen, I’m happy that we’re on the same page.

My heart sank to the bottom of my stomach, and it felt like I’d lost my ability to breath for a few seconds as my brain processed the text. “I’m happy that we’re on the same page.” I repeated, what did you expect Karen? The guy is happily married, get over your stupid crush and forget about it.

Me:

14:53; Me too, see you at the studio.

I put my phone back into my pocket, before I left the flat and drove to work, to find the place on the other end. I ended up calling David while making a Mocca for some fancy looking woman, demanding him to get here as quick as possible, telling him of the messy state the café was in.

David arrived, and slowly the pressure lifted, as the quicker and more experienced hands got to work. For some weird reason, I noticed the ringing of the bell above the door through the noise and chaos and noise of the café, and through that door, walked Richard Hammond, in all his glory, making my world stop for a second, causing me to spill hot coffee onto myself.