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Café Chatter

(Y/n)- your name
(F/d)- favourite drink
(F/p)- favourite pastry
(H/c)- hair colour
(E/c)- eye colour
Your pov~
I sat on a creme fluffy sofa inside the cafe, my (f/d) by my side the warm steam flurrying to my cheeks as the aroma of my drink and the heavy scent of coffee filled my nose.
I scanned through my phone, the bright screen blaring in my face, from the corners of my eyes I could see a silhouette leaning against the clear, glossy glass. Though I was too indulged in my phone to care, as the muttering of the café began to die down, and I seemed to get tired of the environment around me, the smells had grown intoxicating and irritating, as for my phone it ran out of battery, leaving me feeling empty inside.
I grumbled inwardly as I felt my back being watched, I whipped my head around, only to see a boy; he had a messy short mop of black hair, his caramel skin brought out the the swimming light-aqua in his eyes. He was handsome yes, but I wouldn't allow his dashing looks to phase me.
"Um- do have two lazy eyes or are you just some weird, staring creep" I retorted with a whip of my (h/c) locks

His face turned a light shade of pink

"S-sorry" He muttered under his breath, looking embarrassed and turned his head in the opposite direction.
Minutes passed, and guilt began to consume me, glancey over there, actually seemed hurt by my comment.
I began to contemplate what I should do next impatiently drumming my fingers watching my half empty (f/d) vibrate and disburse as my fingernails made contact with the little table my cup rested on.
"Hmmm" I began to internally argue with myself, the better side of my conscious winning me over, I just hoped it wasn't too late to apologize,
I tilted my head just to make sure glancey was exactly where he was from the last time I saw him... face buried into a book titled; 'fingersmith'
Walking on my toes I made my way over to him his narrow eyes so deep in concentration, that he didn't even seem to notice me. I took it upon myself to make myself comfortable, and got comfortable on a cushioned high chair, and waited, and waited, while regretting my choice and internally screaming to myself.
It was only when I heard a call did I tune back to earth.
"H-hello, are you alright" a soft and shy voice uttered.

"W-wha...", I had only just remembered why I was here "Oh yeah"

As I spoke I was greeted with confused and nervous looking face.
He just stared as I tried to piece together what I wanted to say
'What are you looking at!' is what I wanted to say but my mind was telling me no, and my body complied.
"Hey, I'm really sorry for what happened earlier," I sat in shock... Why was he apologizing to me?!

"No no, it's alright, I overreacted to the situation" I stammered, why was I suddenly embarrassed?

He had seemingly wanted to reply again, but probably thought against it.
We sat in awkward silence, him reading  and me uncomfortably watching the light auburn pages turn every few seconds, I didn't want to disturb him but I was almost dying of boredom.
Shifting in my seat, I sat up and lean closer to him, picking up the book in his hand.

"Fingersmith? Huh," I commented my (e/c) eyes furrowing at the title trying to figure out what it meant.

"It's an old Victorian word which is slang for midwife or a pickpocket- which is more commonly known as a thief " he piped up knowingly

"Ohh" I commented trying to hide the lack of interest I had, "So what got you into this type of stuff, like the Victorian era?"

His eyes closed as he brought his pointer finger and thumb to his chin as he rested his elbow against the edge of the round marble patterned table. While he pondered on the answer to my question, I began to remember the real reason I had actually come to the café, and scoffed at the disgusting thought of it.
"Ugh- why did I say I'd do it earlier? Now I only have two days left to do this project- Alone! Thanks to my stupid partners..."
From the look of understanding on the boys face, I could tell that I had apparently I had been speaking aloud.
"Homework?, huh?" His aqua irises now boring into mine, while his chin laying on his fist, resting comfortably in its position.

I could only conjure a loud and exasperated groan at the sound of the word, it made me feel sick and I didn't even want to think about it.

"By your reaction, I'm guessing I'm right?, So what is it about?" His voice was still soft but more confident in comparison to when we first spoke.

I began to wonder; where his shyness went...before he was stumbling at every other word, this was strange but I didn't let it get to me, and kept a straight face as I replied.

I leant down from the high-chair, after searching around aimlessly I finally managed to whip out my English book from the abyss,I called my bag. I shifted my chair closer to him, then turned my lilac coloured English book his way, spreading it across the table and pointed at a page in my book, barely being able to make out the messy scrawl of my handwriting .

"It's English homework, an assignment about how a detective could find out a who the murderer is, or something... with only a letter as evidence. Or something like that...,but I have no idea how the detective could do anything with only a letter", then I began to ramble "and then my stupid partners left me to do it all alone, I swear to God I will...," I stopped myself before I was mistaken for a serial killer,"Oh- I-I'm sorry, but yes my project is on that case."

He skimmed over my book as I was ranting on as he checked out the project, I caught myself staring at him "I wonder what his name is...", it was then I realised that I was being a hypocrite.

Wanting to distract myself, I began to look at the feedback my teacher had given me, she always exaggerated how I didn't focus on my work with comments like:

'(Y/n), Quit trying to punch yourself unconscious in my classes!'

'You think I don't see you doodling in your book, your drawings are worse than your work- and that's saying something'

'You're work is unreadable, it looks like a snake tried to pick up a pen the scrawled all over your book.'

In which I would reply with witty remarks such as;

'I'm not trying to punch myself to sleep, I'm actually trying to permanently damage my brain cells in order to move out of this stupid class'

'Yeah but the only thing that's worse than my work is your teaching skills'

'Miss- I thought you were only meant to write responses, not meant to actually do my work. P.S- it's  'your' not 'you're'

The worse thing was, English wasn't even my worse subject. While I was creating hypothetical arguments in my head, it had seemed that he was done reading over the notes I had made in class.
"This may take a little while so (Y/n), what's your (f/p)? It's on me", he said blue eyes shining brightly filled with joy and excitement.
End of part 1
A/n: This will be a slow progressing story and may become mature in some parts; violence, gore and some sexual themes
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