Evelyn

Chapter 4 - Whipped Like Cream

Chapter Song: Strawberries & Cigarettes by Troye Sivan

                                          Michael
"Michael," Evelyn repeated slowly, my name rolling across her tongue as if she was testing it out. "I like that."

She likes my name. She likes my name.

I hate my name. There's nothing interesting about the name Michael. It's boring and basic. And not to mention the level of hatred I have for the nickname Mike. Mike sounds like a douche. Michael sounds like a slightly less douchey guy.

But I like my name when she says it.

I like her.

And now she's staring at me, completely shocked. Why is she looking at me like that? Did I say something wrong? God, I knew I was too forward.

Wait. Did I say that I liked her out loud?

Shiiiiiiiiiiit.

And then she started smiling. Her smile is so pretty. Her eyes light up and I feel...I don't know how to describe it. I just feel.

Evelyn shook her head, still smiling, and turned around to make my coffee.

Her braid was coming undone just like that first time I met her.

I'll always remember that day. Her loose braid and white top made her look like an angel. Not to mention her smile. Her beautiful, beautiful smile.

~~~
10 days ago

I was having a shit morning and my shitty coffee machine broke and the even shittier café by my apartment was closed, so the next best thing for me was a cafe 3 miles away.

And I'm the idiot who decided to walk there rather than go without coffee.

As I follow the directions on my phone, I can't help but notice how much bird shit there is on the sidewalk.

Not to mention the people walking in front of me who are moving so immensely slow. If my car battery wasn't dead then maybe I'd run over them.

Kidding.

Maybe.

I'm pissed and hungry when I open the door to the cafe. Clairo's Beachside Café? Who the fuck names their child Clairo? It's like someone couldn't decide whether to name their child Claire or whatever the hell else they were thinking of.

"Hi, welcome! How can I-" she stopped talking but I wasn't paying attention. "How can I help you?"

"I'll have a chocolate muffin."

Yes, chocolate. Maybe it'll bring me some semblance of joy. I didn't want to get a call from my brother this morning. He only calls when he's drunk or wants money. And his words always hurt. I know I shouldn't listen, but I can't help but replay every word he says over and over until I wish that I wasn't what he said I am.

Because he's right. He's right that I'm a disappointment and that I'm a heartless piece of shit.

"One more thing."