That Girl and Boy

Chapter 4 - forgiving

“Forgiving someone is easy, but being able to trust them again is a totally different story.”

Orla’s POV

I stumbled into the kitchen due to the fact I couldn’t really see due to the tears in my eyes. I need to get out of here. I can’t face him again. He left me and didn’t talk to me again.

“Can I have the order please?” The chef asked me.

“Erm yeah sure, sorry” I said quickly ripping the paper with his order off my notepad.  I turned to Emily who was the other waitress.

“Erm Emily, do you mind quickly covering for me for 10 minutes, I feel like I’m going to be sick” I said clutching my stomach trying to make it as convincing as possible, she nodded and I ran off to the toilets.

Harry’s POV

I sat back twiddling my thumbs. I refrained myself from going into the kitchen to find her, telling myself she will have to come back out to give me my food I ordered. Every time the door of the kitchen opened my head flung up hoping that it was Orla but every time it was the other waitress. About 10 minutes had passed and Orla still hadn’t reappeared from the kitchen. The door swung open and I looked up to see the other girl walk out with what looked like my food. She walked over to my table placing the food down.

“I don’t mean to sound stalkerish or anything but where is Orla?” I said. She just looked at me. Oh god that did sound quite freaky. I didn’t expect her to tell me but she did.

“Erm, she’s round the back taking some air, she said she didn’t feel too good” She told me. She will be not feeling ‘too good’ because of me.

“Is there any chance I can go see her?” I asked.

“Okay, I’m not normally allowed to let people round the back but I will make an exception for you, its not very often that we have a celeb come into a café” she told me leading me too the back. She knew who I was; well being a celeb has its advantages.

“She’s just through there” She told me pointing to a small door. I walked through the door, which led to a small little courtyard. I saw a small figure curled in a ball with their back turned towards me. I walked over and their head turned. Orla.

My first impulse is not to ask her questions, to grab her or kiss her. I just wan to cut through the distance that separates us, measured in meters – not miles, not countries, not oceans, not time zones, not years- just a matter of meters. I want to take my hand to her face. I want to touch her, to make sure it’s really her, not one of those dreams I have had ever since I left years ago.

But I cant do that, I blew that privalage the day I left. The first time I ever met Orla, I spoke first but this time it’s Orla asking.

“Why?” She didn’t have to say anymore I knew what she was asking.

“Because I couldn’t face talking to a girl I broke.”