Chapter Thirteen #2
The second I enter the cafeteria, I regret it. Every table is taken. Loud voices, messy chewing, mouth breathers at every angle. A full room of people existing without thought. And I just stand there, trying not to lose whatever calm I had managed to steal.
Shifting towards the buffet line, my back shields me from everyone else’s presence as I grab a tray and eye up the potential breakfast options.
I know my prepaid card balance is running low, but hopefully I’ve got just enough to scrape by until the next round of weekly funds drops in.
Grabbing a baguette and pushing a miniature takeaway cup beneath the dispenser, I press for a double shot espresso to carry me through the morning.
“Not much of a sweet tooth?” a feminine voice asks.
It takes me a second to realize she’s talking to me.
Among the mass of bodies in the room, a petite frame leans against the counter beside me.
Harper’s wide, doe-like eyes are locked on mine, a small smile tugging at the corners of her full lips.
I glance side to side, but she is definitely speaking to me.
“I’m too bitter, I suppose,” I reply directly, assuming she isn’t wearing her receivers.
There’s no way she could look so calm while someone across the cafeteria yells and launches their tray to the floor.
I don’t turn to look. I don’t want to. Not when Harper is here, watching me like I’m worth paying attention to.
I place the lid on my coffee and add it to my tray, moving along in the queue.
I can feel her behind me, not touching but close enough to register her warmth.
Like she exists on another frequency that part of me is desperate to tune into.
Reaching the counter, I scan my ID, and the screen flashes red. Of course. Fuck.
“Add it onto mine,” Harper says to the assistant, her hand brushing my arm and pulling me back a step.
“I owe you one anyway,” she adds. I freeze as she taps her own card and the scanner lights up bright fucking green.
Harper’s smile hits me full-force, not mocking or cruel, but she doesn’t understand my inner working.
The shame it triggers in me is sharp enough to cut bone.
Starting as a mild discomfort, it festers and rages until I’m left utterly consumed by its humiliation.
This pain is different to the one I bring upon myself each day, this one cuts a little deeper.
Feels fresher than the dulled anguish I’ve grown accustomed to.
Without another word, I take my breakfast, preparing to leave when Harper’s hand touches my arm.
It’s tentative, unsure, but I still anyway.
“Did you… shall we sit?” she nods toward a table that’s just been vacated. My cheeks are burning as the eyes of half the cafeteria shift toward us. To Harper, I’m the jock who offered her a favor. But to everyone else, I’m the guy who couldn’t pay for his own damn breakfast.
I sit down before I can think better of it.
Harper places her tray opposite mine, unbothered by the stares.
She’s got a calm defiance in her posture, like she’s already made peace with people misunderstanding her.
She takes a sip of her coffee and doesn't flinch at the heat streaming from it. Her gaze holds mine steadily.
“So,” she says, picking up a fork, “do you always brood this early or is today special?” I snort softly, chewing through a nibble of my baguette.
“Depends who you ask.” I keep my eyes on my food, focusing on the simplest task in front of me.
Eat. Don’t say anything stupid. Don’t look at her too long.
But Harper is all about eye contact, a subtle smile on her mouth.
She doesn’t fill the silence with mindless chatter.
She eats opposite me, content with the quiet, oblivious to the social pressure to make small talk.
“You don’t have to sit with me, you know,” I say after a while, practically mouthing the words without needing to voice them.
“I know,” she says easily, a half shrug on her shoulder. “But I wanted to.”
I cling onto the weight that tries to lift from my shoulders.
Grapple with the guarded wall I’ve built around myself.
One small confession and a pair of green eyes can’t undo all of that in four words.
Instead, I nod once and swallow the last of my breakfast. The air feels thick now, loaded with things I’m not ready to acknowledge.
I glance around and catch a few eyes lingering too long.
Whispers moving like smoke between tables. I push back my chair.
“You should stay,” she says immediately, as if she was anticipating I would bolt.
I consider it for one brief second, but my mind is already set.
She’s the new girl. She still has a shot at surviving this place without a scarlet letter burned onto her reputation.
The best way to do that is to stay as far away from me as possible.
Just as I’m about to get up, my phone buzzes.
At last. I open the file from the Essay Whizz, checking that he’s made the relevant changes so Harper won’t be picked up for plagiarism.
It looks good, and luckily she’s right here for me to lean across the table and tap my phone against hers.
The file is airdropped over by the time I’ve stood.
I leave before she can thank me, sliding my tray into the collection rack and walking out.
Pulling a black beanie from my backpack, I tug it low over my ears, shutting out the world for just a little longer.
If I stay, I’ll do something reckless. Like sit back down.
Like ask her to look at me the way she did, without judgement.
Harper is untouched by this place. She’s clean.
She still has time to carve out her path, and she doesn’t need me staining it before she even gets the chance.