Of Mochas and Macchiatos

thirty-four. rules

"Rules! We need rules!" I clap my hands together quickly drawing his attention towards me suddenly.

"Rules." He says blankly. "Angel, you know I don't play by the rules." However annoying his smirk may have once been, it is endearing to me by now.

"Ra-afe!" He rolls his eyes but listens. Tilting his body towards me slightly as we walk towards the University together. I stumble over an uneven corner of pavement and he reaches out an arm to steady me and I don't fall. His touch comforts me and I want to lean into it but I remember that the rules do not only apply to Rafe but also to me.

"Okay, uh, rules, rules. Right! Rule one: no girls."

"What?" His voice is almost incredulous. I start to repeat what I said but he cuts me off. "No, I heard you but why?"

"I don't know. It's a little unsavoury for you to be fu-"

"Alright. Alright! Seriously though Angel, would it kill you to admit -to accept- that you still love me." I don't know what to say to that, so I carry on.

"Two. You absolutely must wash the dishes. I hate it! It's so boring and menial and it dries out my skin." I study my cuticles and take some moisturizer out of my bag and massage it into my skin. "Ooooh, and three is that you have to come grocery shopping with me as well."

"Grocery shopping." He says the two words as if tasting them in his mouth. "Mmmkay. Any others?"

I swallow uncertainly, debating whether or not to say it. But there is a sudden gust of wind that drags with it the salty scent of the sea, an alluring siren's call wrapped up in a seemingly innocent natural perfume, and I know that I must let it out. So I say in a quieter, more serious tone of voice, "Rafe. If I am ever gone with no note nor message, look for me at the cliff face, deep within the forest."

He laughs but hesitates when he sees me turn away, when he realises that I am serious. "Evie? What do you mean? Oh my god, you're not suicidal, are you?"

Am I? I don't think so. The voice that calls for me from the water is not my own. I shake my head at him. Then change the subject. "Five. Coffee."

"Coffee?"

"Yeah, you gotta make sure we're fully stocked at home. I mean, you drink wayyyy more coffee than me but sometimes I am totally, like, craving something dark and bitter." His laugh cuts through the air. It is a mellifluous sound. I am sure that he's thinking as if! But he'd be surprised.

"Like me, Angel?" I consider my first impression of him. I really had thought of him as too dark, hot and bitter for me. But now that I know him, he's different.

"No! You're fluffy and nice. Like a marshmallow." He looks aghast at that. I poke him in the stomach, where he is nothing like a marshmallow, only toned, tanned skin there.

"I swear, Evangeline Leger, if you ever say that again I will murder you."

I giggle. "That's okay. You've been calling me Angel for so long that I can't wait to truly become one." I stiffen slightly as I realise that I've insinuated that I am not a good person and that I am suicidal? Oh my god. I don't mean it? Do I? I hope Rafe doesn't notice and just assumes it to be part of my morbid millennial sense of humour. It seems he hasn't. He pushes open the door to Tilbury's and holds it for me.

Maria isn't there. I remember that she has an early class today. We spend ages waiting. The fairy lights in the café are on and there is a small string of them entwined around a blackboard. In stark white stick letters, somebody has written in chalk, "freshly ground coffee!!!" I see Rafe curl his lip in disgust at the excessive exclamation mark usage and he casts a cutting look at the barista, a man with a haphazard pile of dark dreadlocks stuffed into a messy bun. Dark shadows curl around his biceps, trailing down his arms and I realise he has sleeve tattoos along both of his arms. The man gives me a wide smile and winks at me. It's quite unexpected and I take a step back, crashing into Rafe who casually swings an arm around my shoulders.