favorite crime [h.s]

seventy two

Staring back at my reflection in the mirror, I adjust the black bathing suit on my body which lets my bare skin shine with its low scoop back. I drive the white skirt up my legs and set it around my waist.

I'm sure that I need a day for myself and won't be joining the boys much. And that starts with breakfast. I'm overstrained with thoughts on what to do if they're already here before me. I want to avoid awkward silences just because they're afraid to say something wrong.

I'm going to treat myself to breakfast in a café.

Maybe I'm only doing this to avoid Harry, but I'm not ready to have a conversation with him yet.

I throw my room card, phone, sunscreen and a towel into a tote bag and close my hotel room. Pushing my sunglasses up my nose, I make my way down to the lobby.

If there wasn't Harry approaching me from the opposite direction.

He seems just as surprised to see me, his eyes wide and face pale. There's a dark bruise across his jaw which makes my face soften as I look at him. I have no idea what he went through after our fight yesterday, but I'm sure it was rough. He certainly can't have that expression only because of his lack of sleep.

His footsteps have stopped and he's watching me approach him, but he doesn't say a word. His eyes are filled with regret and pain, but he knows better than to beg for my forgiveness. The wound is too fresh to think about reconciling with him.

Leaving the hotel, I'm instantly met with the beaming sun which attacks my skin. It takes getting used to the high temperatures here, since we don't often get that in Philly. Time to get a tan.

I stroll down the sunny streets, staying in the beach area. My sandals slap against the hot pavement as I search for a café.

I enter the first café that I find and walk up to the till. One or two other people are sitting at their quiet tables, soft music is playing quietly from the speakers. Gazing at the chalkboard which is hanging tall on the wall, I decide to eat something different than waffles.

"Hi, what can I get for you?" a young woman asks me.

"A caramel Cappuccino and a cinnamon bun, please."

She prepares the coffee for me and places the sweet on a little plate. Harry and I often went to a café together, it was our little date even though we've never called it that officially.

After I paid, I grab my breakfast and walk to a table by the windows. I break off a piece of the cinnamon bun as I gaze at the sun and enjoy the hot rays shining into my eyes.

My phone starts ringing in my bag and fish it.

"Aliiiiison!" Flora yells on the other side.

"Hi."

"Your mom told me a little bit about your boyfriend struggles." I hear her moving things around in the background, walking around.

"That's what she called it, huh? I bet she told you to call me, didn't she?" I swirl the spoon around in my coffee cup.

"She did," she confirms. "Maybe she thought that you weren't gonna talk to me. Well, you don't have to anyway."

"Thanks for calling though. It would be good to not fully isolate myself," I murmur and take another bite of the cinnamon bun. "I told you about Harry, no?"

"Is that the same guy you told me about, when you called me at two AM crying about how much you hate him? Then yes, you did."

I sigh dramatically as I pick up my coffee. "Okay, he wasn't my boyfriend. I don't know where my mom got the idea from. But, he lied to me, made me feel like a fucking fool, and now I'm avoiding him."