Bad Connection✔️

The Brutal Coffee Incident

I love coffee. Waking up on a Saturday morning, realizing there was no school that day, was the most relaxing way to decide to go get coffee.

I dragged myself out of bed, a nice little smile on my face. Normally I go downstairs and make the lovely, black bean water. Nobody else is usually around the house, so I get to sit at the kitchen table and enjoy the tranquil stillness of my home.

However, today I decided I was going to be a cool teenage girl and get out of the house.

Making the decision to leave the house has always been, and always will be, my downfall.

I got ready, grabbed my keys and phone, then left. There's a coffeehouse between my house and the highschool, it's very popular considering none of the kids in my school ever actually sleep.

The people who hang out there are mostly there for the aesthetic. The majority are hipsters, the kind who wear the baggy clothes that makes it complicated to tell if they're homeless or if they paid $200 for those completely shredded jeans, and then there's the loner type guys who try and find corners to hide in. The kind of guys who come off as the mysterious bad boy. The troubled soul. The gloom-and-doom dude.

I don't fit into any stereotypical categories. I actually do fit in, though. I'm not some social reject, people associate with me. They just don't really care. I have plenty of friendly acquaintances, but zero genuine friends.

In the story, everyone's said I got my coffee, and some chick who had heard about my "mugging" was jealous and wanted Mason all to herself. According to them, she yelled at me, pushed me around, poured my burning hot coffee on me and threw me to the ground.

Then, my savoir, the bad-to-the-bone hunk came in and saved me. He told the chick off, telling her he would never love a person as cruel as her. Then she cried and blah blah blah.

No.

I ordered my iced coffee, and just as I turned around, I tripped over my own shoes. I'd blame it on just being clumsy but it wasn't completely my fault. My shoes are hand-me-downs, they're two sizes too big.

Thanks to them I almost always end up with a bandaid on the back of my ankle.

I actually did get my coffee all over me, though. That's completely true. I fell on top of the puddle, ice had managed its way into my bra. However, I was wearing a white shirt, so I'm not sure why that was never mentioned. I distinctly remember my pastel blue bra being very, very visible.

Anyway, Mason had gotten out of his seat and helped me up like a decent human. He checked if I was okay, and when I told him I was fine, he cracked a couple jokes.

He told me I had a lovely bra, said that I looked splended with my new coffee accessory.

Then we parted ways as unlikely.

Our highschool was booming with gossip, though. There were rumors we were "friends with benefits", which still kind of knocks me off because we weren't friends.

I'd also heard that we were dating. There were a lot of people playing with that theory. My top three favorite were;

1. We were together in secret because our families were some type of rivals that dated back long, long ago, so our parents didn't approve of us being together. We were just too in love to keep our feelings on the downlow. The whole Romeo and Juliet type of shit.

2. We were meeting up there because I was selling him drugs or something. When he helped me up, he snuck money in my back pocket and I snuck something in his front pocket (which is very untrue, there was no jean touching).

And, 3. Either he or I (I can never remember which but I'm pretty sure it's me) were stalking the other person because one of us had unrequited feelings and couldn't bare to stay away from our one and only.

The reality is that our paths crossed again by accident. Nobody really had the power to prevent that, except maybe my Mom. If she had just gotten me new shoes instead of giving me her old pair, it really probably never would've happened.

Then again, if it hadn't, I guess there wouldn't really be a story.

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