𝕤𝕒𝕟 𝕗𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠 • 𝕝.𝕙

thirty-seven

"Andy," I called out through the crowd, unable to find my friend.

The clock had just struck midnight, and I was eager to go home, now. It would have been lying to say that my short encounter with Calum hadn't made me feel a thing, because it had. It had taken an enormous amount of strength not to lean into him and get caught up in the fuck-up that he was. I felt bad about calling him a fuck-up, because so was I. Which was the exact reason why I couldn't do myself again. It felt like an Oliver type of situation, the toxicity making it exciting and new, but knowing that ultimately, this would end up with me in pieces, begging for us to let go of each other.

I knew how these things went, and frankly, I wasn't up for it. Not anymore. Not after I'd promised myself to get my shit together.

When I finally spotted Andy, his lips stuck on the face of a girl I'd never seen before, I felt irritated. Well... I guessed that the party was over for me, wasn't it? Unless I managed to insert myself in a group of people after staring everybody down for hours beforehand, that was it.

Cool party. Thank you, San Francisco people. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to socialise.

I turned around and walked through drunk people, regretting suddenly to not have taken my car. I didn't know how much a taxi would cost, and I wasn't sure whether I would get picked up at this time of the night, on this very date. Fuck.

I opened the front door and slammed it behind me, the sudden quiet and cold air hitting my face gently. I took a deep breath, a cigarette already in my hand. I brought it to my lips as I patted myself down to find my lighter. My lighter... Fuck! Of course, it was gone. It was a lighter, and I was at a party. It was the rules, right? Your lighter had to get stolen during a party. Just a little touch to make my life easier... Not.

"Do you need a lighter?" a voice called out from beside me. It had an Australian accent.

When I turned around, a tall, dark-haired man approached me with a friendly smile, lighter in hand. He had a cigarette in his hand, as well.

"Thanks," I just said, quickly trying to light my smoke. I handed him back the lighter.

"That's okay," he replied.

"Crazy party, huh," I half-tried to make conversation to be polite. "Insane house."

"Yeah, I guess," the guy answered. "It's alright."

I turned to him, smiling. "I'm Lex, by the way."

"Ashton. We've met before."

"Oh, shit," I began laughing. "Shit, we have. I'm so sorry."

He chuckled, before taking a drag of his cigarette. "That's all right. I'm barely around."

I felt insanely stupid. I couldn't remember him having dark hair... And it'd been a crazy few months... When was the last time I saw him? Did I ever meet him more than once?

"Well, either way," I spoke up, feeling embarrassed. "Great night."

"Are you off?" he questioned, looking at me in the eyes. "It's barely past midnight."

I shrugged, breathing out the white smoke. "Yeah, I'm... Just tired. And my friend is making out with someone inside, and it would be just... Rude to interrupt."

"Totally," he smiled. "That would be in very bad taste. Do you have a ride back?"

"Yeah, it's cool," I said. "I've got a taxi. I mean, I'm getting a taxi. It's cool."

"Good luck with that," he smirked. "It's new year's eve."

"Thanks for the positive vibes," I muttered, opening the taxi app on my phone. It was almost a hundred dollars for a ride back to my place. "Or... Maybe I'll walk."

"Yeah, right," he began laughing.

"I'm serious. I guess I'll better start now, actually."

I started walking, my feet already hurting from my heels, my whole body beginning to feel exhausted. I clutched onto my phone tightly, stepping off the front porch onto the driveway.

"Hey," Ashton followed. "I'll just drive you back."

"Don't worry," I replied.

"Don't be stupid," he called out. "I haven't drunk tonight. Come on. I'll drop you off."

I turned around, even more embarrassed now. "Fine."

✴

I woke up the next morning in a haze, groggy as ever. When I looked at the clock on my bedside table, it showed 07:03. Perfect.

After Ashton had so kindly dropped me off the night before, I'd crawled into bed as soon as I'd gotten home. I checked for texts from Andy, but could only find happy new year messages from Lisa, Heather and Mia. There were a couple sent from unknown numbers, and I just chose to ignore them. 

I stretched and got out of my bed, making my way to my kitchen. The sink was full of dishes, and when I opened my cupboard, I came across a very unpleasant surprise. Shit. I was out of coffee. Again.

I debated whether going back to bed, getting some more much needed sleep, but I was up now, and maybe I should just go down to the local Starbucks and get coffee, maybe?

I put a hoodie on, a pair of shoes, grabbed my wallet, and off I was. This feeling felt vaguely familiar. It was as if I'd lived that moment before.

There was a strong feeling inside of me that wanted me to walk to my usual coffee shop, the one I always went to when I lived in the cottage. I was already in town, now, so I thought that maybe... Maybe, I could find my way back to it, like the good old days...

Stumbling down the street, the sun hitting my face and the cool air in my hair, things felt fresher, better, now. The streets were empty, desert almost. There was no trace of any other human being around, with the exception of the lone car going by me every ten minutes. I took a drag of my lit cigarette, the taste feeling absolutely disgusting this early in the morning. Maybe I should think about quitting smoking.

I walked past the palm trees, the colourful neighbourhoods. I had lost track of time by then, just slightly hoping that I was getting closer to the coffee shop with every step that I took. At that instant, I regretted not taking my car to make the trip. I always came up with the worse ideas.

I finally recognised the street I was in, and I knew that I was close. As I walked, I remembered the last time I had come in, still pissed off from the night before, the very last time I'd slept with Oliver. I'd stormed out and begged for the barista to give me my coffee for free, promising that I'd come back with the money. Of course, I wouldn't have. I lied my way through things, that was just me. 

I stepped into the coffee shop, the smell of the hot drinks feeling oddly comforting. I'd made it. As I approached the counter, I remembered the other thing that had happened last time. It was the first time I'd met Luke. Just the thought made me hurt. I didn't want to think of it. I didn't want to dwell on whatever had happened in the past, on whatever had happened between us. I didn't want to get emotional in a fucking Starbucks.

"Hey," the barista spoke up. "What's your order?"

I looked at the menu on the wall, then back at her. "A mocha, please."