Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Black
Dominic
Today is just not my fucking day. First, I was late for work at Biblio & Brew, coincidentally on the only day this week my manager has come in to check inventory.
That was a fun conversation. Then I messed up not one, not two, but three orders in a row.
Finally, I tripped over a student’s backpack on the ground and splashed latte all over three of the books on the shelf, all of which are now coming out of my paycheque.
I grumble my way through another dark roast, knowing as soon as I see Celeste my day will get better, I just know it.
It’s almost a sixth sense at this point, that I just feel when Celeste is about to enter Biblio & Brew.
Honestly, how could anyone miss her coming through the door?
Right on cue, Celeste glides in, her golden hair glowing in the sun creating a halo effect atop her head.
She immediately locks eyes with me and strolls in my direction.
She looks like she’s holding in a laugh, a story meant just for me.
I love when she gets excited about sharing things with me.
I’d listen to her deliver the weather if it meant she’d continue looking at me the way she is right now.
“Hello,” she greets me with a coy smile.
“Hello, back. What’s going on?” I ask playfully, leaning my hands against the counter, a dish towel thrown over my shoulder, and a smile that I can’t seem to hide to save my life.
“Okay, I have the most ridiculous story to tell you.”
“I’m all ears, Hoot. Coffee?” I ask before she dives in.
“Please!” she answers, pulling over a stool as I begin working on her order. “So, do you remember The Hair?” Her eyebrows arch expectantly.
I half turn, “How could I forget? He was the one studying neuroscience right?”
“Hilarious,” she says, setting herself atop the stool. “Anyway!” She continues at breakneck speed, stumbling over words in an attempt to get her story out, “Okay, so we went on that first date, as you know.” I nod along adding cream to her coffee, keeping my displeasure of that one date to myself.
“Well, he messaged me again the other day and asked me out for a second date. So we met up at Copertina a day…no, two? Yes, two days ago…”
My hand stills on the sugar canister. She went on a second date with him? My stomach dips and begins to tie itself in knots. She hasn’t gone on a second date with anyone before.
“So he’s going on and on and oooonnnn about his family’s ‘estate’,”
“Sorry,” I interrupt, my brows furrowing together, “You went on a second date with him?” I ask quietly, turning to face her. She pauses, looking over my face briefly before her smile falters.
“I—yeah. I thought he ticked off basically all the qualities of The List.” She blinks at me with some confusion, then a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes is quickly plastered on her face and I see a wall going up.
A mask. Her cleverly crafted false persona is coming out and I hate it.
Celeste’s coffee shakes in my hands, spilling over onto the countertop.
The vulnerable, walls down, easy going Celeste is gone and what stands before me, who stands before me is someone else entirely.
A version of Celeste that answers every question with ‘fine’, one that is clinical.
A jealous flame of something all-consuming at this shift licks at my insides.
So much for my day getting better. I carefully place the sugar canister down, and grab a towel to wipe up the mess.
“I mean, I’m just taking a chance, right? I talked with my mom and thought, you know, why the hell not?” She fidgets with her hands and looks out the window, unable to meet my eyes. Her sudden expression and nervous tick churns anger in my gut.
Does she seriously see a future with this guy?
“Why the hell not? Hoot, you don’t even like this guy.
” My voice raises a fraction, my hand strangling the dish towel in my grip.
“Celeste he doesn’t even know the real you!
” My voice grows louder, my tone sharper.
A couple by the window glance over. “This fake fairy tale act is cute, but it’s not real.
The List is all bullshit, and you know it. ” I shake my head at her.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” She keeps her voice low but sharp, her fake smile gone and replaced by a glare directed at me, waiting for me to answer. Fine.
“It’s all an act. You pretend to be helpless to let these loser guys be your knight in shining armour, but guess what?
They’re not! You’re pretending to be insignificant, and that’s the worst part about this.
Because you’re not. You know what else owls represent, Hoot?
Wisdom. You put on this ditsy front downplaying yourself, as if the first time I met you, you weren’t tutoring another student in goddamn organic chemistry! ”
“I’m not pretending to be anything, Dom. These are guys you set me up with. It’s just my list—”
I cut her off, “Okay, fine, this? This is you, Celeste? This fucking list? This can’t-do-anything-for-herself-needs-to-marry rich Celeste? Why are you acting just as fake as every other bimbo wannabe trophy wife surface level girl? Have you ever been authentic with anyone? Even yourself?”
The words land like knives and I see her walls shatter in front of me. An avalanche of self preservation crumbling under my harshness. The cafe around us is silent, every person nearby suspended in time to watch this car crash unfold.
My chest heaves with the heaviness of my words.
Her eyes sparkle with the beginnings of tears lining her lids.
I did it. I broke this chasm between us where the silence now hangs heavy.
I wanted to feel justified in telling her that she deserves better, but I don’t think I accomplished that.
I immediately want to swallow everything I just said.
Seeing the hurt in her eyes cracks something deep in my chest.
“Okay,” she whispers, her eyes still wide in shell shock at my outburst.
I turn to throw the dish towel that I’ve been clutching in my fist towards the sink then turn back. “Celeste…”
But she’s gone. The bell above the door chiming with her exit.
Fuck.