"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐞..."
"...𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮."
For as long as anyone could remember, Aspen Greenwood and Cara Jasper had been at odds with each other. Whether it was for a spelling bee o...
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I never expected to associate freedom with Tuesday, of all the days of the week. But since today is the last day of summer break, right before classes start up tomorrow, freedom is precisely the word that comes to mind when I think of this Tuesday.
After a few nights of rest, the girls had a brilliant idea to pick up some ingredients to make some pasta for dinner tonight in the common room—a small gathering before classes start up tomorrow. Norah suggested pasta and none of us could think of anything else so we decided to splurge on some spaghetti sauce and a cooking pot.
When we arrive at the local supermarket, which happens to be only a ten-minute walk from Carissa, Norah immediately heads for the cozy coffee stand strategically tucked into the corner of the entrance. She drags the rest of us with her despite our reluctance—it is five in the afternoon, after all. Usually, I'd be all up for an ice-cold matcha but if I go anywhere near caffeine right now, I simply won't fall asleep tonight.
Alas, we each end up getting a drink at the overpriced coffee stand, although I was lucky enough to find a non-caffeinated option. Never again will I agree to spend eight dollars on sixteen ounces of impossibly sweet strawberry lemonade, though.
After a few minutes of strolling around the store, Norah beams at the three of us and asks, "So, how does everyone rate their drinks?"
I glance down at my half-empty lemonade and then look back up to meet eyes with Opal, who seems to have the same opinion as I do.
"Not bad," Cara says first, taking another sip of her caramel macchiato. Always so predictable.
"Out of ten?" Opal asks and Norah nods. They take a sip of their water cup and smack their lips once before answering, "Probably an eight. Can't complain; it's water."
I let out a small snicker as I try to come up with the most accurate rating of my drink. Is it my personal taste? Not entirely. But is it fair to say it's objectively bad?
"Mine is definitely a seven," Cara adds. "The coffee's a little too bitter but the caramel is really good."
I take one more sip before I devise my final answer. "I'd give mine a nice, even five."
"Oh, only a five?" Norah asks, her face seeming disappointed. "How come?"
"I mean, it's a good drink!" I tell her, a little worried that I somehow offended her. "I guess I just prefer my lemonade a little more on the sour side is all."
She nods. "Yeah, that makes sense!"
Without even realizing it, I somehow end up sharing a confused look with Cara, who seems to notice instantly before she rips her eyes away from mine and stares at the aisles mindlessly instead. At this point, I just have to accept that I'll never be able to experience the kindness of Crossfaded Cara again. Whoever that was, she's not coming back.
