King of Harts

8

Emory

After the shittiest day at work, I rush to the nearest coffee shop just to feel something that wasn't the weight that grew heavier on my chest throughout my day.

My father reaching out was just the start to a terrible day and if I didn't get some caffeine and sugar in my system, I might burst into tears.

After ordering my coffee and chocolate chip muffin, I decide to take it to a table in a corner so I can drown in the sound of how busy it is and maybe get some reading done.

The only reading I've done for the last few days is right before bed, which is less then usual because I've been too stressed out to focus. I've been baking. A lot.

With the background noise and my coffee and muffin on deck, I pull my book out of my bag, wanting nothing more than to be sucked into my romance novel as if I were a character myself.

I'm not sure how long I'm sitting here, reading. Might have been a lot longer than I planned but the book is fucking phenomenal and I couldn't stop if I wanted to.

All I know is that I forgot about Adrian weaseling back into my life, forgot about my dads message, forgot about my asshole boss and the day he gave me at work and was happy I wasn't suffocating in the deafening silence of my apartment just yet.

It isn't until someone approaches my table that I lift my head and notice that it's starting to get dark outside.

"Excuse me" a voice says softly, my eyes dragging up to see an older man staring down at me. Smiling down at me. It's not a comforting smile either, I'll tell you that.

"I'm sorry if this is too forward but I just think that you're very beautiful" he compliments me.

Oh god.

"Thank you" I reply politely in hopes it gets him out of here quicker. I don't like the vibe he was giving and the extra sugar he put in his tone was all I needed to feel like he wasn't only here to compliment me.

This couldn't be happening right now. It can't be, the universe is definitely fucking with me by sending this creep here.

"Would you mind if I joined you?" he asks and now I'm just taken back.

What the fuck? Who just asks that? The guys got to be, at least, twice my age and that's the most uncomfortable part.

"Oh" I laugh, half awkward, half nervous.

"I was just getting ready to go" I shrug, hoping he doesn't notice how nervous I'm getting as I put my book in my bag and start gathering up my trash.

"Can I at least walk you out?" He pushes and now I'm really freaked out because this guy has way too much desperation in his eyes.

"You've got the nicest hands, anyone ever tell you that?" He adds, the sweetness into his tone slightly twisting into one that would send little children running and I swallow the urge to cringe.

Hand fetish? That's a new one.

When I slide out of my seat, unsure of what to say to that, I clutch my bag like it's going to help me vanish into thin air, offer him the most polite smile I can muster up and open my mouth to spew out another bullshit excuse to get out of here. Maybe I'll hide in the women's bathroom until they close.