Third Degree

chapter eighteen.

Thalia's POV

Hectic. Chaos. The perfect words to describe my life in this very moment. 3 weeks into college and working and I'm already feeling obscenely overwhelmed. Grayson went back to the whole 'lacking communication' thing and work has been crazy and Nate is returning from a second hauling trip today. I've got itchy skin, dry eyes, migraines, backaches and these things called Braxton Hicks. Braxton Hicks are contractions that are also called "practice contractions" or "false labor" and they suck.

It seems that my day can't get any worse, but of course, I was entirely wrong.

Telling a barista that your coffee order was wrong is easy. You simply, and kindly, ask for a redo due to a minor mistake. Yet, some people find that to be so absolutely difficult, that it is truly astounding.

"Hey!" A burly blonde yells over the counter, slamming his plastic cup on the counter and spilling half of the contents everywhere while practically sending me into an early labor. "I fucking asked for no caramel and extra whipped cream and what do I get?! Extra caramel and no fucking whipped cream! Which shitty employee made this piece of shit?!"

My hands begin to tremble because that was me. I messed up the order. My heart pounds as I walk over and reach for his cup. I immediately begin to speak.

"Sir, I am so sorry that your order was messed up, let me make you a-" before I could finish my sentence, or grab the cup for that matter, he flings the remaining liquids, and then the cup, at me. My face, hair and shirt are drenched in coffee and my jaw falls open. What the actual fuck?

"I don't need another fucked up order, bitch." He growls before trudging his way back to his seat. I fight tears as two of my coworkers and the manager rush to get him out of the cafe and a customer rushes over to me, asking if I was okay. I can barely hear them and I nod, mumbling that I was going to go and get myself cleaned up.

As I walk to the back room, I can hear the uproar of the guy, and I can feel my walls starting to crumble. I can't do this.

After grabbing my bag and clocking out, I rush home. The drive isn't any longer than 10 minutes, but it feels like an excruciating amount of untold hours. By the time I get into the apartment, I feel like I can't breathe and I don't notice Nate sitting at the table as I rush past him and into the restroom. I don't even bother shutting the door before leaning over the sink and letting all of the emotions I had been holding in consume me.

My breathing gets louder and begins to resemble gasps, but there isn't enough oxygen in the world to help me. Tears rush down my faces, dragging mascara along with them. I feel arms wrap around me and pull me into warmth. Then Nate's muffled voice starts to soothe me.

"You're okay, Lia. Let it out. You're going to be fine." 

After twenty full minutes of sobbing, I finally find myself starting to relax. My cries fade into hiccups and sniffles before I pull my face away from Nate's chest.

"You okay?" Nate asks softly, his eyes scanning my face. I shake my head and a fresh batch of tears rush down my cheeks. "Let me get you some water. Wait for me at the couch, I'll be right there." he smiles softly and I nod, hugging myself and going to sit on the couch.

Within a minute, Nate was there, ready to listen.

"Now, let's start as to why you're drenched and smell like coffee." Nate states. I nod and sniffle.

"I was already having a bad day at work and then this huge blonde guy comes in and orders his frappuccino  with no caramel and extra whipped cream. I screwed it up and put extra caramel and no whipped cream. He didn't notice for about 15 minutes, enough for it to melt considerably. Then he came up, absolutely furious and slammed the cup on the counter and started going off. I didn't tell him that I had been the one who screwed up his order. When I offered to remake it, he threw the liquids at me and then the cup and he called me a bitch." I sniffle and sigh. Nate nods, clearly upset that the guy had done that.

After a long pause he sighs, "I would've beat the living hell out of him." he shakes his head. "What else is going on?" He asks.

My heart begins to race and I start to cry again. "It's all too m-much." I hold my face. "I don't w-want to go to college anymore and I don't want to work at th-the stupid cafe anymore! Everyone fucking judges me for being pregnant and-d they bring up Grayson every five seconds and I don't want to go anymore!" I burst into a sobbing mess and hold my face.

Nate stays silent as he pulls me into a hug. He let's me crying into his chest as he soothingly rubs my back.

Eventually, I begin to calm down.

"You feeling better?" He asks softly. I nod and wipe my eyes. "You can't drop out." He plainly states after a long pause. I sigh and look at my hands, nodding.

"I know, I need to secure the baby's future." I mumble softly.

"Exactly. And your own." He smiles softly. "Now go shower before the bugs start to realize you're covered in sticky, sugary goodness." His remark makes me laugh softly and I nod, standing up from the couch.

"Alright." I pause. "Let's order pizza tonight, yeah?" Nate nods furiously and grins. I smile and laugh. "By the way, we need to start with all the baby proofing."

"Alright, we can start this weekend." He smiles.

"Sounds great. Order the pizza now please." I smile. He immediately walks over to the phone and starts to dial.

"Go shower, Lia." He shoots me a playful smirk, to which I roll my eyes and start for my restroom.

Nate is the absolute best friend I could ever ask for. Motivational, hard working, kind, sweet, funny, he's the best.