2
CLARITY
"Here, you can use this," Olias offers me his black jacket, leaving only his gray sweater to keep him warm. He tried to find something else for me to wear in his trunk but could find nothing besides the jacket on his back.
Once I take it from him, he shuts the trunk. The jacket immediately consumes me. It's long on me, big but warm, and smells like... coconuts. Whatever the addictive smell is, it's amazing. I look over at Olias on the other side of the car, watching me adjust to his jacket, his eyes lazily falling up and down my frame.
"Does it look good?" I question, pulling my hair out from underneath the collar and letting it fall over my shoulders.
He briefly nods. "Just don't fuck it up," he says, getting in the front seat. I look down and zip it up. He should just let me have this. I like it better than anything in my closet. Why does male clothing always seem to work better? I open my mouth, hesitating as I second-guess things, deciding not to ask.
I open the door to the passenger seat, but it's locked. Bending over, I knock on the glass window and smile. Starting the car, Olias looks over, and a dimple forms on his left cheek. He reaches over the console and pushes the door open for me.
Hurrying into the car, which is filled with the warmth I desperately need, I melt into the seat. My feet rise, and I bury my knees inside the jacket and press them against my mouth before muttering, "Are you trying to get rid of me already?"
"I'd never ," sarcasm and humor lace his tone, "Legs down, seatbelt on."
"Okay." I do as he says, buckling my seatbelt in. He adjusts his rearview mirror and then drives into New York's streets.
"Address?"
I tell him the location of the Starbucks, and he makes his way there. For the entire car ride, I look out the window, the wind taking my hair up and around in every direction possible. With the moon in its fullness and lighting up the night sky, the man on the moon is probably staring down at me, wondering how this night turned around as quickly as it did. The lights of downtown Manhattan blur together as Olias drives past, and I even encounter a dog with his head out the window of a car on the way there.
Stopping at Starbucks, I get out and meet Olias by the door. He opens it for me, and the scent of coffee beans, vanilla, and fresh pastries immediately smacks me. I hum as my favorite smells (right below the scent of new book pages) fill my lungs.
"What drink do you order?" He asks.
Below the well-lit light, I can see him much more clearly. The dark circle around his eyes, his broad frame, an awkward stance. His hands stay stuffed in the pockets of his sweater, his head not held too high, like he’s not comfortable with how bright it is inside here. To be fair, neither am I. His imperfect yet perfect features make him look as pretty as his name.In a platonic way, of course. I wouldn't do that to Jonah.
I inhale, ready to spew my order at him. "I ordered a Strawberry and Creme Frappuccino, sub classic because I like white mocha. Three pumps of raspberries, or one for a small. Whip cream on top and bottom, double blended, and the second time blended, add a splash of black tea."
He's staring at me like I just said the summoning of a demon ritual.
I knew that would happen. I let out an unpleasant cackle. "Got all that?"
He brings his hand to the back of his neck and scratches. "All of that is one drink?"
I nod.
"Okay then," he raises his brows in acceptance.
I attempt to grab my wallet but realize I'm not carrying anything. My face drops as I look back up at Olias, my brows settling low on my face, embarrassment lacing my next words,"I don't have any money."
He digs into his pocket and pulls out a twenty-dollar bill between his two fingers. "As if I were letting you pay anyway. Go find a seat, and I'll be back, okay?"
I can't help but smile and nod. What else is there to do? It’s not like I have any money to stop him from buying me this. Besides, who says no to free food? Not me. We part ways and I sit down beside a window. My attention is instantly caught by a small dog that crosses the window. It's golden and fluffy, its tongue hanging out. An older woman walks him, and I pucker my lip in awe at the pup as he leaves my sight down the street. Only in New York do you see people walking dogs at three in the morning…
I want a dog to walk at three in the morning.
A few moments later, I hear my name get called, or more like a slightly shorter version of it. "Clare, repeat that monstrous drink one more time."
I grin, repeating my order across the store. He points at me and looks at the cashier. "Yeah, everything she just said."
The cashier laughs as he writes in my order.
Several minutes pass before my gaze through the window is interrupted by Olias placing my drink in front of me and then setting a simple small mocha down for himself.
"Thank you," I say.
"Mhm."
He sits, leaning back in the chair as I pick up the drink and sip the straw.
I hum as it travels down my throat, the sweetness filling my dead battery. I'm such a Starbucks addict. Taking off the cap, I reveal the whipped cream—my favorite part.I lean down and lick some, the sweet white cream pressing onto my lips. Looking up, ready to call for Olias' attention, I laugh, knowing full and well there's a white whipped cream mustache on my top lip. Only to see that he's already staring at me with a smirk, his eyes doting around my face.
"I think you got a little something," he teases, tapping his top lip.
I giggle while playing along. "Oh shoot, I think so."
My hand goes to my mouth, sliding the cream onto my thumb. Licking off the rest, I pop my thumb out. Shifting my gaze back to Olias, whose lips are parted slightly and his eyelids low, I don’t miss the mesmerizing look of his eyes through his lashes. It makes me stop briefly to admire them for a moment. A moment is all I’m rewarded with because his gaze breaks from mine, and his jaw clenches.
I clear my throat. "Aren't you gonna drink your mocha?" I question, poking my finger in my cream and scooping some more to eat.
He clears his throat. "Yeah— I mean, no, I'm not. I don't drink coffee, actually."
I stop myself. "What? So why did you agree to go here? We could've gone somewhere you liked also." Selfishness falls over me. To begin with, I should've asked if he liked coffee. All I did was think of myself.
He shakes his head. "You wanted it, and I wanted to give you whatever would make you happy after earlier."
I stare at him, blinking at his consideration. "Oh," is all I manage to say, my cheeks no doubt glowing at his thoughtfulness.
"Do you want my drink? It's still hot," he leans up.
Hell freaking yes, I want it. Despite my talkative thoughts, I take it silently, nodding and going to sip it. The warmth floods my body immediately.
Walking out of Starbucks with a stomach that’s two drinks fuller plus a croissant, I’m warmer than ever, and I look at Olias.
He takes in a breath and looks down to meet my eyes. "Where do you live? I can drive you back home."
My body runs stiff. I shake my head. "No, I don't want to go home. At least not yet,” I struggle to get the words out, trying painfully for them to sound stronger.
"Okay… It might be a weird offer, but you can always just come back home with me. You could sleep in my sister's room. She doesn't…live there anymore but left her room furnished."
I try my hardest to hide my excitement, but my eyes widen. "Yeah, I'm cool with that." I bite my lip, hiding my soon-to-be wide smile. I've always wanted to have a sleepover with a friend, Olias being the rare exception as a stranger. A good stranger who saved my life and bought me coffee. That's good enough.
He nods and begins walking towards his car, and I follow.
"Wait," I start. "How do you know I'm not a serial killer?" I ask Olias, pausing my walk.
He opens his car door for me. "The only thing I see you killing is my cereal storage in the morning."
My mouth drops at his literal accusation. "Depends, do you have Frosted Flakes ?"
He pulls a toothpick out of his pocket and sticks it in the corner of his mouth. "Get in the car already, will you?"
Laughing and doing as he says, I get in the passenger seat, and he shuts the door.
I know I shouldn't trust people as easily as I trust Olias, but there's an aura to him that screams safety to me. Someone I can count on. What I seem to be hooked on the most is that he’s someone who doesn't know my life and can't judge or expect anything of me. He can’t hurt me more than I’ve already been hurting. He's a friend, maybe not one I'll ever see after tonight, but still, I was right.
He is the perfect company.