Of Mochas and Macchiatos

Part 10

I walk out into the living room to catch Rafe on his phone. He's looking out the window at Astoria, his back to me, and he's speaking in a hushed voice and I don't know what to do. Part of me wants to eavesdrop. To learn more about the boy that I'm living with. And so I linger in the doorway, catch fragments of a one-sided conversation.

"I miss you." he says, his eyes shining as he looks out upon the bright city lights.

And those three words are enough to make me leave.

For a few minutes I wait in my room, lost in thought. Is he talking to his parents perhaps? It's clearly someone very close to him. I'd never heard him sound so small. He sounded so lonely. Suddenly, I realise that I've never seen him close to anybody. He hangs with a few guys from class sometimes but I get the feeling that they're not real friends. And those girls I see him with, he obviously isn't too close to them either, seeing as the girl changes every week.

He balances his dual personalities so well. That rich, hubristic playboy juxtaposes his quiet lonely figure, the bitter boy who cuts at you with snide remarks and venomous spite. He, so very like me, projects a carefully crafted veneer to the world. And it is only then that I realise that I've let my own mask fall away around Rafe. Admittedly, the events of the last 24 hours would be enough to trip anybody up but I am irritated with myself nonetheless. Resolving to restore my cool, calm, collected persona, I smooth my hair over a few times and flash myself a hesitant smile in the mirror.

Grrr. I need to be confident not confused. Squeezing my eyes shut for a few moments, I breath. Slowly. And then I open my eyes, watching as my pupils dilate in reaction to the bright overhead lights. This time when I grin in the mirror, I recognise the girl who smiles back at me. There it is. I have a name for her now. She won't be Kiki's shadow anymore. No. This person, the person that I am around here is Astoria Evangeline. And part of me recognises how unutterably c r i n g e w o r t h y that is, but really how different is it to Sasha Fierce or Lana Del Rey? With enough confidence, you can pull off anything.

I can pull off anything.

And yet I know that I will most definitely cringe when thinking back on this moment later but right now I cannot bring myself to care.

Now that the hushed phone call has seemingly ended, I walk into the living room and lean against the doorframe, smiling coyly. Rafe's still near the window, the light from his phone casting a pale glow across his face. His thumb scrolls passively and he stares at the screen looking bored. Probably monitoring the stock market or something.

"Rafe." I say. And he looks up. His eyebrow raises ever so slightly.

"Hey Angel. Looking good." Damn straight, I look good. More than that, I look beautiful. I suppress the urge to twirl and fish for compliments though. Somehow, I don't think that Rafe is the kind of guy to heap praise on someone for no good reason. I wish he would though, for me. But then I get annoyed at myself for wasting a figurative wish on something so trivial. "You ready to leave?" I nod.

"Sure. Where are we going?" I ask, looping my arm through his. He seems surprised at the gesture and freezes momentarily but then his eyebrows dip back down. Surely he's seen Noah and I walk like this before.

"Café Salmonella. Do you know it?" Of course I do. It's so very in. I heard you have to book reservations a month in advance. How did he manage to get bookings? Slightly quizzical about this, I query him about it as we walk out of the room. The electronic lock seals after us, the blue glow of the electronic retina scanner in the door fading into nothingness. For a few seconds, we walk, letting my question diffuse through the air, our shoes gently clattering the marble floor as we make our way past ornately potted indoor palms to the elaborate elevators.

"Oh Angel," he says smirking, letting innuendo enter his tone, as we enter the lift. "I can get in anywhere."

*

We breeze through the lobby and I cast the Steinway a slightly resentful look. After everything that happened last night, I'd almost forgotten that there was a gorgeous grand piano just waiting for me here. But the pain in my hand still lingers, prickling every now and then reminding me of its presence, and it'll be at least a week or two before I can play it. Rafe nods to the doorman who tips his hat at us as we push into the revolving door and out into the night. The silence between us unsettles me and without thinking, I blurt something out.

"Did you know that in 1888, Theophilus Van Kannel invented the revolving door to ameliorate the problem of drafts in conventional doors?"

Woah. Way to start a conversation. The idea that Rafe will mock me, taunts me but a kind smile plays on his lips as a dark sleek Jaguar sidles up beside us and the chalet gets out, bowing low and opening the door for us.

"No, Leger. I didn't." He seems amused albeit intrigued by my obscure remark. He gestures for me to enter the car. "Tell me more."

"Oh." God, I just want this awkward conversation to die already. I was going for cool and classy, not nerdy. But who's to say I can't be both? "Well, the design eventually came to characterise the entrance of modern skyscrapers and served as an airlock..." I continue my incessant chattering about Theophilus Van Kannel all the way to the restaurant. Even though I am internally cringing at myself, Rafe's piqued interest keeps my anxiety at bay and by the time we get to Café Salmonella, I actually feel quite comfortable and normal.