Of Mochas and Macchiatos

Part 16

I dash out of the café out into the street, avoiding Elio's cruel, conniving gaze. Coffee slushes out of the lid of the cups, staining the cardboard tray which rapidly descends into a soggy mess. The coldness of the streets outside the café fogs up my glasses as I hurriedly traverse the pavement, looking sign for any sigh of Rafe. As I start to jog towards the library, I trip over a rock or something and crash towards the ground but manage to catch a pole before fully falling. Nevertheless, I shout out a single one word expletive. A nearby old woman shakes her head disapprovingly at me and waves her wooden cane at me so that it seems that the carved lion's head is growling at me. I feel like growling back. When she turns her back to me, I raise the finger up at her. Gosh, so crude. I'd never normally do this. Ugh, this whole day is messing with my head.

I pick up the yucky soggy mess of cardboard and shove the coffees into a bin. I wish I'd never left the library. An optimistic part of my mind hopes that Rafe is still at the library, that maybe he didn't see any of that, and that I'll be able to pretend nothing happened. But the more realistic part of my brain argues that he saw... he knows. And anyway, it won't change the fact that I feel dirty, used. Why would Elio do that? I thought we were friends.

I ponder over our conversation over dinner the other night. I'd mentioned that I was staying with Rafe. What else had I said? Oh! When he'd leaned forwards to kiss me, he'd asked if I was seeing someone. And I'd said yes. But then why would Elio try -no, not try, he'd succeeded- to kiss me? Had I led him on. Okay. In a single moment of panic I'd kissed him but then I'd changed my mind. And he'd persisted. Even after I said no. Was this what happened to sexual abuse victims? I feel tainted. Disgusted. Not only with him. But with myself.

I can feel tears start to trail from my eyes. As I scurry up the steps to the library, it occurs to me that Rafe is probably not even there anymore. And I am right. What do I do? Should I just return back to the hotel? What would I say? How could I explain it anyways? The other night when I told him about Elio, I'd made out that I was interested in that boy. I'd have to tell Rafe I had lied. Honestly, -haha, I bark out a bitter laugh, honestly... it was my dishonesty that got me into this mess- I didn't think I could bear the embarrassment or the shame. When Rafe questioned why I didn't want to be with Elio even though I'd previously insinuated that I did, I'd have to tell him the unutterable truth. That I was most ardently in love with he, Rafe Archer.

Even with nobody around to see me, my cheeks filled with a bright blush. Oh my gosh. It's true.

My phone chirped and I dug into my pocket, frantically hoping maybe it was Rafe but it was Mr Robinson. He wanted me to work tonight. It was an emergency. His sister had broken her leg and he was going to see her at her hospital.

All I wanted to do was find Rafe. Make everything right. I didn't have time to work. But I knew that Mr Robinson wouldn't ask unless he desperately needed assistance and so I turned on my heel and stalked back the other direction towards the bookshop. I was the only worker there anyway. Mr Robinson needed me. And I was going to do at least one thing right today.

Checking the time in my phone, I noticed that it was just about quarter to four. The bookshop usually closed at five. Okay. That was good. Only an hour and a bit of work and then I could go home to Rafe. Explain away everything.

After a few minutes I reached the door of the bookshop just as Mr Robinson bustled out.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, Evie" He murmured quietly to me. "Especially after the week you've had. You need the rest." He wrapped a scarf around his neck and ran out into the street towards his car, shouting over his shoulder, "Just lock up at five!"

After about twenty minutes in the bookshop, spent unloading a few new orders, I realised that I hadn't brought the keys to the bookshop with me. I wouldn't be able to lock up. In fact, so reluctant to do more Avery study after already finishing the presentation, the only thing I had brought to the library in the morning was my phone and the few banknotes stuffed into the back of my phone case. I involuntarily utter a gasp as I realise what this means. I'm going to have to remain at the bookshop until Mr Robinson gets back. I rattle off a panicked text to my boss and he replies that he'll return to lock up but he'll be back late. Probably 10 or maybe even 11. Groaning, I slouch against the desk and bury my face into my arms. Why was all this happening to me?

My tummy growls but I can't leave the place unattended. I contemplate ordering some food or something but as I bring up the menu of the closest Chinese takeaway place, my phone dies. And it seems there are no iPhone chargers in the entire shop. Attempting to force the hours to run faster, I delve into some of my favourite books but my mind is whirring constantly, relentlessly, on thoughts about what to say to Rafe that I abandon any notion of working my way through a beloved series.

God, why did I have the worst luck ever. I do attempt to console myself though. At least I'm not in hospital with a broken hip like Mr Robinson's sister. Still. My luck was pretty awful, even if it was only first world misfortune.

The hours dragged by on and on. So slowly. Finally, Mr Robinson arrived at the bookshop.

"How's your sister?" I ask.

"She's okay now. She'll be fine. Thank you, Evie, for staying."

"It's not a problem, Mr Robinson." I attempt to keep the weariness out of my voice and Mr Robinson gives me an appreciative smile.

"Come on, I'll drop you off at The Henley."

By the time I make it up to the hotel room it is nearly midnight. Even after all those hours at the bookstore, I still don't have anything properly planned to say to Rafe. Most nights we don't see each other anyway. He goes out with his friends, to basketball games and clubs and parties and whatever. And I, I've always preferred time by myself, spent in fictional worlds. And yet somehow, I feel that he will be home and that I ought to prepare some kind of explanation.

Turns out, I don't need to.

As soon as I walk through the door of the suite, I notice a bag sitting in the coffee table. A handbag. It's a Fendi thing, emblazoned with the brown logo, and it's not mine -I'd never liked Fendi... too Kardashian for my liking. There's a hint of dark musty sensual perfume in the air. Women's perfume. That's not mine either. Oh my gosh. There is the muffled noise of two people in Rafe's room.

He has a girl over.

Evidently, he did not care that I kissed -and was kissed and groped- by some boy. At least it was only a kiss... and nothing more, on my part.

I start to feel really queasy, the mixture of confused emotions locked in a tumultuous battle with my empty stomach, and stumble off to the bathroom -feeling disgusted with myself, with Elio, with Rafe and his harlot or whatever- dry retching in the toilet. God. What a brilliant day this has been, I think, mournfully to myself as I stare into the toilet bowl. Scratch that. This entire year so far has been the worst yet, and it's not over yet. There's more misfortune coming. I'm sure of it.

I drag my exhausted body into the shower and attempt to scrub off the remains of the day as I brush my teeth. Those silk pyjamas that Rafe gave me hang off a rack but I leave them there. I don't want anything of his, I think bitterly as I ironically crawl into a bed in a hotel room that he has paid for, naked. My eyes are so heavy and I give into the darkness immediately, regretting it only a few hours later.