Shattered

Carter (e)

Carter
5.
One of the most nastiest bastards you'll ever meet.

Was that why I took a seat? No. Should I have cared what that drunk said? No.

I told myself that that was why I seated myself, but I knew better. I knew the exact reason why I was seated in the farthest corner of the coffee shop. But the words that burned the whole way to my seat nearly changed my mind. The unease written in the brunette's chocolate eyes, and that bruise—that bruise looked much too new—nearly had me turning back to punch the drunk.

I could still feel the fear as it twisted my stomach, could feel that bruise as played over and over in my mind, as if it were mine.

Of course it was the coffee that I came in for, but I knew why I had come back. It had only been a week, but it was impossible to shake those dark, dark eyes. Now, I just needed a distraction. Although I had come in to forget my lack of a secretary problem, the dread of the day's events already churning in my mind, they were suddenly long forgotten as I watched the exchange between the brunette and the drunk.

I shouldn't have cared if the girl got hurt, but something about her unease and the drunk's watchful eyes had me taking to a seat.

Hazel came toward me. I kept my gaze on her, my mind wandering as I studied her. She was no doubt pretty—the simple yet beautiful kind that made it nearly impossible to tear my eyes away. Hazel didn't look much older than me, and if I were to guess, she was probably just finishing up college.

Her eyes were nervous as they flit around the room, but I knew it wasn't because of me. When I glanced behind Hazel's shoulder, the drunk was watching intently.

That made me frown, and the anger resurfaced along with it. I hadn't noticed it was even gone.

It was only when Hazel was close enough to set down the coffee cup in her hand that I whispered the word "finally" underneath my breath, but loud enough for Hazel to hear.

Only, I barely finished the word before Hazel suddenly stumbled, pitched forward with a hiss of breath. The burn of hot coffee that slipped from her fingers soaked through my suit. Her hands that caught herself on my knees.

In a moment, everything seemed to stop.

Surprise filled me, but I was quick to push it away when Hazel's blood-red cheeks and embarrassed eyes spun on me.

The whole scene was almost laughable, and I probably would have cracked a smile if it wasn't for me being so cold. I probably would have told the wide-eyed brunette that I had plenty of other suits to wear, maybe would have asked if she was okay—instead, I could only do what I knew best.

One of the nastiest bastards you'll ever meet. That was who I was.

"What is wrong with you?" I snapped, ignoring Hazel's burning cheeks. "I mean, how could you possibly be so careless?"

I made a show of casting my gaze over my ruined suit, even going so far as to brush the coffee stains from the fabric. As if they would actually come out. I hated how the words rolled off my tongue as effortlessly as they did.

"I-I'm so sorry, s-sir!" Hazel stuttered out. I could see the embarrassment written clear as day on her face, the dread as she backed away. Her fingers retreated from my knees, the warmth with it.