Oh, Pineapples.

26: How considerate.

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"...maybe if I go blonde, we can get our old love back,"
-Lana Del Ray, textbook.
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My foot jerked up and down under the table of my favorite booth in the cafe as I stared outside at nothing in particular, Phoebe Bridgers' 'that funny feeling' played at the highest volume my headphones could allow.

Maybe Phoebe Bridgers singing 'it will be over soon' would drown out all my thoughts telling the otherwise.

Maybe the loudness of the song in my earlobes would drown out that loud voice that kept reminding me that I was in the cafe because I knew I would accidentally on purpose find him here, too.

But what couldn't be drowned out by music was the gentle tap on my shoulder that sent electricity all over my body.

Why did my body answer to him like that?

"Jasmine," he started.

"Javadd."

He fingered the circumference of the small beish cup of his coffee.

His finger made another lap around the cup.

What those fingers could do.

The mere thought had heat pooling right under my belly button.

My gaze caught his. He was staring at me already. He knew I was watching him, his fingers, and judging by how the corner of his mouth lifted, he could read my thoughts.

His finger traced a third circle around the rim of the cup. Was he ever going to drink his coffee?

His hands, huge compared the small cup, hovered over it. I could see a blue vein at the back of his hand that ended at a finger that had a golden ring which, despite how dull the Cafe's light was, still glinted.

I was that small beish cup. Small, fragile, precious- maybe? I couldn't tell how much that cup would have cost.

Javadd had a hold over me, even without a single touch. The same touch I craved over. The same touch I was so sure no one else ever would ever be able to recreate. It was too intense, too much for me.

Too much.

"You're too much for me Javadd, do you know that?" I brought myself to look at him again.

He leaned back, his intense gaze burning into my eyes and then took a sip out of his cup.

Finally.

"You're saying it like it's a bad thing," a hint of amusement sparked in his voice.

His motorcycle is going eighty miles per hour because I know he wants me as much as I want him.

"Because it is," I clear my throat. Suddenly the room grows ten degrees warmer.

"Hmmmh." He leaned forward.

"I wouldn't need to be near you, to feel you right now," he leaned closer to me over the table, his mouth brushing my earlobe,"To know that your panties are already soaked as we speak, do I?" The butterflies in my stomach woke up.

"So tell me Jasmine, is that a bad thing?" He sat back, his face remaining neutral as if he hadn't been so vulgar.

We're stumbling over the rocks on his doorstep as we try to keep our lips on each other while Javadd struggles with the keys in his hand.

I don't answer his question.

"I don't like how you make me feel. It's unhealthy. You're unhealthy for me," I bite my lip. Two women enter the Cafe and walk past us to a table at the end of the cafe.