Where Do Broken Hearts Go?

7. Bright Pink

"You find me at Starbucks and go bolting out before you're seen." I hear an accent I haven't heard in weeks. I set down my pen as I look up to meet him.

"That didn't happen." I move my reading glasses to the top of my low ponytailed head.

"It didn't?" Marcel takes a seat at my table. Last time he asked. His middle finger and thumb support his chin as his pointer squishes into his cheek. "I could have sworn I saw you running out of Starbucks yesterday morning." After the true claim, his lips purse as if he's waiting for a fib.

"And you assume that has something to do with you?" I interlace my fingers.

His eyes flicker from my torso to the top of my glasses. Next, he looks to the side of the table for the rest of my white, ¾ sleeve button up. The top two buttons remain undone with my open heart necklace on display. My crossed legs are veiled to the knee with a chic, black, pinstripe skirt. 

Last and most exciting, my feet are arched in 4-inch, bright pink heels. The sight of them causes a smile to spread across Marcel's boyish face accompanied by a slight nod. 

I see he's the forward type. I don't think I've ever been so bluntly checked out.

"I like the heels."

"Thank you." I accept his first compliment and put it in my back pocket. His smirk flatters not me, but himself.

"Since when do you go to Starbucks?"

"Since I was taking a friend to work." I remain stoic under the questionable interrogation.

"Ah." He chuckles. "And you expect me to believe that?"

"You should unless you want to sit there with false suppositions." All of my morning sass is in my batting lashes. Anything else is too much energy.

"Be sweet, Angel." The suggestive words pass his haughty grin. Why did he come in here so sure of himself?

"As sweet as this latte." I take a sip as he watches me leave my fingerprint of lipstick.

"I can smell the vanilla."

"It's nice. A new favorite."

"You're welcome." He points to the cup with his whole hand. "Are you going to tell me why you ran out of Starbucks?"

"I really don't have to." I check the temperature of my cup, then look up to him. His ocean-green eyes jump when mine do. "I didn't pay for my meter."

"What a rebel." He mocks, then folds his fingers like me. His back holds a slight lean over the table. I take note of the adjustment as I try figuring him out.

"I seem to have offended you the last time we spoke."

"No." He frowns as he denies.

"I must have if you switched coffee corporations." I test.

"Truth be told, I didn't want to see you." He shrugs as his eyes hold me prisoner. My eyes almost narrow, but I catch myself with a blink and little smirk. I give my latte a mixing swirl.

"Fair." I nod at my edits as I find an error. I pick up my pen and continue working by crossing out a misspelled word and correcting it above.

"Simon & Schuster." He reads out loud. I flatten my hand on the paper as I cut my eyes at him. "Come on. Let me see." He lifts my index finger to unblock the view. Are you touching me? "You're a writer?" He takes a wild guess.

"Something like that." To straighten the papers out, I tap them against the table prior to stowing them. Would you look at the time?

"Fair." He accepts the sass with a smile, maybe he even appreciates it.