ETHEREAL

CHAPTER 10

The next day, Damien texts me, "Heyyy."

Really? Just "heyyy"?

Me: I saw the texts between you & Bianca

Damien: what?

Me: ......

Damien: ???

Me: you're like obsessed with her

Damien: I'm not obsessed

Me: you text her all of the time, you're talking about getting back together with her when you told me that you're into me... you're exactly the player that I thought that you were in high school... I'm not stupid, I see how you interact with her on Facebook, too, and you talk about her all of the time... I even know what kind of car she drives, for fuck's sake

Damien: You're not perfect, you're so judgmental, I'm not getting back together with her

Me: whatever, I'm not the one texting & talking to & always talking about my ex

Damien: we have a connection that I haven't felt with anyone, including her, ever before and don't deny it, you know it's true

At that, my heart breaks a bit, because I want to deny it, but I can't.

Damien: don't give up on me, on us, I don't love her anymore

I regret that my life seems to revolve around Damien. I never wanted to be that girl whose world exists and ends with one guy. I decide to give us a chance, because I do believe in our connection, even if something is nagging at me that his obsession with his ex-girlfriend still doesn't feel quite finished.

Me: ok... I won't

We make plans to get Starbucks the next day.

Damien picks me up, and I start laughing at the sight of one of his long, lanky legs hanging out of his window, as he has reclined his seat, so that he is practically laying in the backseat to drive, and his one Converse clad foot is by the sideview mirror. "Do you always drive like this?" He smirks and nods. "Wow, ok." I settle into my seat and look out of the window. We drive to Starbucks in silence, with Lower Definition blaring in his car.

"I'd like a peppermint hot chocolate with almond milk, please," I say to the Starbucks employee.

"A peppermint mocha?" He looks bored and uninterested to be here.

"No... a peppermint hot chocolate."

"You like mint and chocolate together? That's so disgusting," Damien makes a face.

I turn to him, laugh, and say, "Um, yeah."

"Just a regular hot chocolate for me, please, thanks," Damien hands the worker his debit card.

"Thanks for paying." He gives me a toothless smile, and follows me to wait for our drinks.
"So, what did you do today? Why don't you drink coffee?"

"I worked on some extra stuff that the UMD wanted, so that I can get back in, and I read some Kafka."

"Some what?"

Our drinks were ready, and I grabbed mine. I take a big gulp and gag, but force myself to swallow the offensive drink. "What.... oh... this is a peppermint mocha," I manage to choke out.

Damien looks annoyed. "Seriously? I'll get it fixed for you." I nod my thanks and he leaves.

I sit down at a table, feeling embarrassed.

Damien hands me the correct drink, and it washes away the malicious bitterness of coffee.
"Yeah... um, it's kind of embarrassing why I don't drink coffee. It was a traumatic childhood experience," I grin and look back down at my drink.

"A traumatic experience with coffee? What happened?"

"Umm... well, I was at the mall with my mom, and... you have to understand, I always wanted to be cool, as a kid. I was only like 5 or 6 years old, and we were sitting by Bun Penny, remember that old bakery/coffee shop/gourmet food store? We used to get a couple of pastries and sit at the tables outside right by the shop and eat them, so I noticed that everyone sitting by us looked like the epitome of cool. They were in all black - they even had black berets, kind of like Doug's sister if you ever watched that show... and all of them had a cup of coffee in their hand. I wanted to drink coffee so badly... I begged my mom over and over to let me drink it. I thought that it would make me instantly cool. She said 'Fine, if you want it so badly...' Then, she mixed stale, warm Diet Coke with a cold blacker-than-black coffee that was sweetened with Sweet n' Low, swirled it around, then handed it to me to drink. Victoriously, I felt so triumphant and smart. I took a big gulp, and spit all of it back in her face. At least ten of those coffee hipsters came to our table, ready with napkins, to help clean up and to ask what happened. My mom's only reaction was 'I deserved that.'

I was so, incredibly, epically embarrassed. To this day, I can't drink coffee nor soda without feeling like I'm going to puke. It's like it produced some type of Pavlovian response," I laugh at the end.

Damien looks shocked, and says, "I wasn't expecting that."

"I feel like, part of my appeal, like you
mentioned before, is that you don't expect a lot of what I do, or say, or what has happened in my life."

"Maybe," Damien shrugs and gives me his mischievous smile.

"Maybe?" I laugh.

"What are you doing this weekend? Are you gonna go to Maurel's party?"

I think of the last party that I went to there in which the whole dirty house reeked of heady cigarettes, and I didn't really know many people there, being that they were at least three years younger than me.

"Um, I was thinking to go to Alex's again."

"Ohh..."

He doesn't try to convince me to come to Maurel's, and I don't argue with him to go to Alex's.