Salted Caramel Coffee (COMPLETED!)

Chapter Eight} Åwå¥

I've only been to Nebraska twice in my life, and the one other time I came was when I was like twelve. I didn't know where to run to- where to hide from Black and my mother. Nebraska is a big place, and Black's house is secluded. It took me nearly an hour- half walking and half running- just to get to a point that I might consider civilization, and another forty five minutes to get to Mario's. The directions that the lady gave me were vague, but at least they weren't, "leave me alone, kid."

***

     "Hey, girl. You gonna buy anything? Cause you can't just keep sitting here and take up a whole booth if you're not a customer." A teen stands in front of me with a charcoal-dusted apron around his neck and a Mario's staff hat covering up a mop of poorly cut hair. He looks about seventeen, and has a teeny tiny mustache that looks like one of his eyebrows tripped and fell onto his upper lip. It's horrendous.

     "I-" I pat my pockets for even a tiny bit of money, but don't find any. "Sorry, man. I'm broke."

     "You gotta leave then, sorry. Restaurant policy." The boy says, his lip hooked in annoyance.

     I eye the pizza behind him hungrily as my stomach lets out a nasty growl. I haven't eaten since Black's French Toast this morning, and it's almost six pm now.

     The boy sighs heavily, a note that I should probably get up. But I don't. Instead, I just stare right back at him, twisting my face into that exact hooked look that I hate so much. "Look, girl," he huffs after about ten seconds of awkward staring, "I'm gonna need you to leave now. Because if-"

     "Oh, lay off the poor child, James." A girl about my age, probably a year or so older- although it's hard to tell when her hair covers a good portion of her face- steps into view, playfully shoving the boy with her shoulder. "She looks like she's had a rough day. And stop calling her girl. She's got a name, you know."

     I smile softly to myself, glad that someone actually came to my rescue. "It's Emma." I say, raising my eyebrows at her act of kindness.

     "See!" The girl exclaims. "She does have a name. Use it."

James' snarl softens into a hard swallow as he stares, at a loss for words, at the girl beside him. "Whatever." He scoffs finally, taking a step backwards, "she could be a hobo for all you know." My fingers ball tightly into fists, my face hot. Jesus, he's an ass.

Then, as if God decided, "ya know what, this girly has gone through enough shit. Let's give her something." I watch as James steps perfectly on the center of his untied shoelace, sending him sprawling back across the floor.

A snort of laughter escapes into my hand to keep me from cracking up in front of everyone in the diner. "J'adore your shoelace catastrophe." I call. My eyes drift as judgmentally as possible over James' body, praying that he's uncomfortable. "Graceful."

His cheeks hot, James scrambles to his feet, embarrassment painted across his face. He blinks at me, shocked for whatever reason. I give him a little wink, making his whole face go a marvelous shade of crimson.

     "Ignore him," the girl says to me once he's out of sight into the back room of the diner, "James is a bit of a-"

     "Menace to society?" 

     "Order... freak." The girl sits in the booth across from me, biting her lip thoughtfully. My eyebrows knot together as a reflex, confused by the girl who seems too nice to be real. "He's actually really really sweet if you get to know him."

"Reverse chocolate covered marshmallow," I breathe.

"What?"

I run my tongue over my chapped lips, knowing very well that doing so won't help for long. "Nothing."