All You Need is Love

Two

I run into the nearest store I can as it begins to downpour right at 9:43 am. It was nice when I woke up, but I don't pay much attention.

It's a small quaint coffee shopped filled with the aroma of unground coffee beans. It's busy. People from all different sorts come to this one coffee shop, Tully's.

Might as well get some coffee. The line isn't too long, so I just stand there. My shoes are a little uncomfortable considering the soles are wet but the rest of my attire is fine, thank god for trench coats.

I listen to the people tell the barista their orders patiently. Mocha coffee here, a frappaccino there, scones, the varieties endless.

The door rings, announcing someone walking in and I feel someone standing behind me. It feels that they're too close.

I take one step forward and turn around. Blue eyes meet my empty hazel blue ones. And with that I turn back around. He's attractive I'll admit that, but no point in taking it any further than that.

As the last person in front of me I place my order. I avoid eye contact as I do so. The barista tells me how much I owe and I pay, stepping aside and wait for my coffee to be ready.

I turn and look outside as it continues to pour, looks like I won't be going anywhere any time soon. Might as well get comfortable. I let out a heavy breath. I don't have work today so I thought I should do some errands, or at least do something than the regular.

I've waited too long, so I decide to sit down and wait. My mind drifts and I'm not sure how much time passes but I'm startled by the sound of my drink touching the table, the same blue eyed man standing before me.

"Hi." He offers, he has a small smile on his face, his eyes twinkling as he speaks.

I'm caught off guard. Interacting with people isn't my thing. It used to be my thing but that was six years ago.

"Hi." I offer back pensively, I don't quite know how to react.

"May I sit." the blue eyed man asks.

"Okay." More questioning than affirmative.

"I saw you sitting, your drink was waiting and I thought I'd bring it over for you." There he goes again with his smile and nice tone.

"Thank you but I could've gotten it on my own." I reply a little too curtly. Be nice. I silently scold myself.

"So I wouldn't pin you as the type to take straight black coffee." He offers.

I take a sip of my straight black coffee, the warmth on my hand as k drink it feels good.

"Why straight black?" He's trying to keep the convo going. I suck. I genuinely suck.

"It keeps me awake." I say simply. At least I was soft with my response this time.

"I see."

I offer a small smile, anything more than that is hideous.

"The weather is quite terrible today." he pears out the window, looking where I am.

"It's rare to have nice weather here, only fifty eight days does the sun actually come out."

He's looking at me. Tentatively. And suddenly I feel uncomfortable. He's looking at me, watching my gestures. I clear my throat, it's been enough.

"You're beautiful." He blurts out.

Except he said it in the most disarming way.

A compliment. I've never been given a compliment, not one of such generously or taste. I can feel my cheeks getting hot and I know I must be blushing. I look down at my fingers tentatively, not quite knowing what to say, or worse, how to take a compliment.

"I, uh, thank you." I nod my head, trying to offer some sort of small smile.

And there he is looking at me again, and as I look at him, his eyes lock with mine; I feel exposed, as if he can see everything in me and know my every thought. I break the stare, not being able to muster the feeling that has bewildered me.

"I have to go." I say, looking at my coffee, the table, another person, anywhere but his piercing blue eyes.

As I stand, grabbing my purse and my trench coat, he stands as well. What is he doing?

My eyes are darting everywhere as he stands before me.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, that was not my intention." He says sadly.

"I uh, I'm sorry, I really, I'm sorry I have to go." I manage out.

"Wait..."

I turn around to face this blue eyed man, not looking directly at him, because I can't bare it.

"What's your name?" He asks.

I bite my lip nervously, one of my terrible habits.

"It's Meredith." I mumble and with that I'm gone.

//

It's around 2:30 when I get home, having bought some groceries for the house and just enjoying the somewhat pleasant day.

I carry in the groceries, as many bags in my hands as possible, setting them down on the kitchen island.

I didn't buy much, just the necessities. As I unpack, I think about the blue eyed man I met in the coffee shop.

Why didn't it strike me as weird that a man whom I do not know sat across from me, or grabbed my coffee for me. Wouldn't that strike someone as them being a stalker? But he was nice, he was very nice, and disarming. His intentions were good.

He called me beautiful.

A man called me beautiful.

I don't remember the last time I was given a compliment that was so genuine, well frankly I don't think I have ever. Must guys refer to me as sexy or hot. The shallow ones at least.

I don't know why he called me beautiful, in all honesty, I don't see it.

I stopped looking at myself as someone who could be attractive a long time ago.

I don't trust men, I never will. They make me feel uneasy and quite frankly, they scare me.

I shake off those unwelcome memories as they try to creep up.

None of that Meredith.

//

I'm laying there motionless in my own bed.
This man, whom I recognize is on top of me.
He tells me if I scream, he'll kill me.
The tears stream down my face.
I'm not tied to my bed but I am immobilized.
This man probably spiked my drink with something.
I continue to cry softly, It hurts, I can feel him moving in and out of me.
It's hard and unwelcome, I don't want it.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my head facing away from him.
I can't move.
I can't breathe...

I'm covered in sweat. The terrible nightmare overcomes me. The times that I do fall asleep, have me waking up in a sweat over the cold reality of my nightmare.

They occur often, too often. I get out of bed, turning on every single light I pass. It gives me a sense of security.

Walking down the stairs into the kitchen, I grab a glass out of the cupboard and fill it up with water and ice.

I could really use a drink right now. It sobers me, knowing the only way to avoid the thoughts and feelings I have are by drinking out of José Cuervos's bottle.

I made a promise to myself I will never drink again, never. And I would die alone, because no man will ever come near me again.