Salted Caramel Coffee (COMPLETED!)

Chapter Twenty Eight: ¡ńthęńd

February 13, 3065
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It took me two years to begin forgetting everything that happened in Nebraska, summer 3062. It's not like I was trying to erase it from my memory, but I really wanted to. I wanted to forget Black's face, and the gunshot wailing out from her house. The smell of pizza and the feel of using my sweatshirt as a pillow as I laid with my head down on a table. Iced coffee and my mother, the street signs, the air, the back room of Mario's, and Blaze.

Especially Blaze.

Not that I could ever forget her if I tried.

Looking around the coffee shop, I can only see a few clumps of people. There's the girls who come after school, giggling and sipping iced coffee, interrupting the silence. My eye catches on one of the girls, her auburn hair falling lightly over her face. My whole body tenses, picturing a messy-bunned coffee addict with glasses that couldn't fit her personality more perfectly.

    Black's dead, I assure myself, you don't have to worry about her anymore.

It really isn't that easy.

Aside from the girls, there really aren't many people in here. An old man reading, a lady typing away at her computer, and a young boy with dirty blonde hair and familiar eyes. I take a deep breath, praying everything stays normal. If he's weird, I'll be weird, and then it'll get awkward. I don't do well with awkward.

I walk straight up to the boy and let myself smile. It doesn't feel right at all. "Hey, James," I choke. Upon hearing my voice, the boy freezes. The hand he was using to idly stir his coffee stops mid-circle, and he looks back up at me. Very, very slowly. "It's been awhile."

It's as if he's forgotten I know how to speak. He scrambles to his feet, throwing his arms around me and holding tight like I'm his lifeline. He's at least six inches taller than me, so he's more got his arms around my neck than my actual body, but I don't mind. It's actually kinda nice.

"I thought I was never gonna see you again," he mumbles into my ear, "I can't believe you actually came."

James pulls away and gestures toward the seat in front of him, his face filled with what looks like a mixture of shock and relief. I collapse into the chair and sigh, still high on his energy. "And I can't believe you actually drove all the way from Nebraska to Wisconsin just to see me."

James' eyes scope my entirety, and I honestly forget that I must look so strange to him. "Yeah, me too," he cocks his head to the side, "you look different than I remember."

I reach up to run my fingers through my hair, nodding thoughtfully. "Yeah, I got rid of the bangs like, right after I-" I swallow hard, "-I left Nebraska."

James nods back knowingly. "It's not even just your hair, you know?" He says. "It's- I mean, you look like a totally different person."

"I am a totally different person." I don't know if he's talking about my huge silver hoops, the chain around my waist and my reddish-pink lipstick, or the fact that I didn't greet him with a dumb remark about the fact that his nineteen year old peach fuzz disappeared. Guess he finally realized how stupid he looked.

James cocks his head to the side. "How so?"

How do I explain to him that I'm not how he remembers me? How do I put to words that I'm not sarcastic and bold anymore, but quiet and thoughtful? That I keep to myself and only speak when spoken to? How do I piece together a sentence that will make him understand that the new me would never call Black a crackhead upon first meeting her, and that I'd rather die than scream at a girl who's crying, helpless on the ground with blood spewing from places I've never seen blood spew from? How do I tell him that I don't have the energy to even want to be the person I was? And how do I describe it all without making it seem like I'm weak? I don't believe I lost a part of myself in Nebraska, I believe I found it.