Chapter Seven
“So, what kind of things do you write?” Theo twirled his teaspoon around, mixing a sachet of sugar into his coffee before tapping the edge of his mug three sharp times. He had met up with Olivia at the local Caffè Nero around the corner from his flat that Friday afternoon.
The two of them had dusted off the sprinklings of spring rain from their jackets when they arrived and hunkered down in the worn brown leather chairs by the big bay window.
The air was thick with the scent of warm cocoa and coffee, and the soft buzz of the coffee machine burring in the background created a welcoming ambience for their first meeting.
Although he had shared her company before, he still felt nerves pool in his stomach as he ordered their coffees.
The jumper he had picked out to wear felt tight around the collar. He was nervous.
If this arrangement went well, not only would she write a bestseller, but he would finally get to make that call to his sister and confirm the plus-one to her wedding.
He could practically feel the buzzing excitement that she would have when he told her he had found someone to attend her wedding and that her bridal party and groomsmen would be of equal number.
His mother, who had made it explicitly clear how eager she was for him to settle down and start giving her grandchildren, would also be off his back.
There was no downside to this agreement; he had nothing to lose and almost everything to gain.
Olivia, whom he’d watched break the hearts and dignity of a procession of men last Saturday night, the blonde bombshell sitting before him, was the only one who had something legitimate to lose. And something more than just a fickle wedding date to gain.
“I write a lot of things. Poetry, short stories, articles…” Olivia said half-heartedly, picking the blueberry muffin he had ordered with their drinks up off the white ceramic plate.
She was wearing a fluffy cream cardigan and a thin gold necklace that hung down the V of her top, accentuating the same gentle slope of creamy skin he had been staring at from across the bar last week.
After a once-over of her petite but curvaceous figure, he’d had to shove down the desire to find out if the supple ivory of her chest was as soft as it looked and put it out of his mind quickly.
“But ultimately, I write romance novels. At least that’s what my book deal is contracted for.
” Olivia let out a small laugh, and that’s when he realised that she was nervous, too.
Nervous, perhaps, about how he would react to the kind of romance she wrote.
He would never make her feel uncomfortable talking about her work; not when she was so passionate about it, not when her eyes captured the golden light from the hanging bulbs overhead so perfectly, in a bright twinkle like a fire had started in her eyes, flames of crystal blue shining and shooting rays of sunshine through her eyes and into the air that clung to each of her words.
Staring at the petite woman in front of him, he wondered if she wrote the slow burn, holding hands type of romance or the hot and heavy smut that he had seen an ex-girlfriend carry around everywhere she went.
“Do you enjoy it?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer. The twinkle in her eyes as she spoke about it was answer enough; he just selfishly wanted to see that damn sparkle once more. “Writing love stories?”
Olivia placed the muffin down on the side plate before clearing her throat. Her gold necklace swung in the space between her breasts. Theo forced himself to ignore the movement.
“I love the idea of love. About constructing ways people could meet someone, take chances, fall in love. For instance, that girl over there wearing the pink hoodie and tight jeans?” She turned her body slightly and pointed to a young woman to the right of their table.
“Maybe she’s had a bad day and decided to come here for an afternoon pick-me-up, order a caramel macchiato…
something sweet like she is. However, the barista across the counter remembered her choice of beverage and made it without her ordering. ”
Theo glanced at the barista, then back to the woman in the hoodie. He felt Olivia lean closer to him, the waft of floral perfume welcome to his senses. Rose and vanilla. He hoped he was subtle as he took a long, deep breath, making note of the faint scent.
“He’s been taking her order for years,” she continued, “and despite him pouring her coffee every day, taking it from his hand, reading the cute notes he leaves on the side of the cups, she barely looks up.”
Theo shook his head and quipped teasingly, “What a missed opportunity.”
“Completely,” Olivia agreed. “But don’t you think that we all lose out on opportunities like that? Looking down at our phones? Not leaving the house? Not meeting new people?”
“So that’s it then? She ignores the barista’s notes and nothing comes of it?” Theo asked.
Olivia tilted her head, glancing back at the woman in the hoodie and made a small sound of question. “That’s one possibility. But for a writer like me? Their story has only just begun.”
Theo was invested; her voice lulled him and he became captivated by the made-up tale.
He turned back to Olivia, leaning closer towards her slight figure.
Their forearms were millimetres away from each other on the small table between them, their foreheads nearly pushed together like teenagers telling each other secrets they didn’t want anyone else to hear.
“Then what happens, what’s their story?” he whispered.
The café door swung open and a gust of cool evening air brushed against their sides, but he hardly noticed it, not when their bodies were huddled this close, both on the edge of their armchairs, hands wrapped around warm coffee mugs and nestled in the cosy corner of the small shop.
Olivia drew a breath, tilting her head to the side and gazing over his broad shoulder.
“Normally she doesn’t read the notes.” Her tone matched his, a breathy whisper shared between them.
“But today, she notices, and suddenly they’re talking.
She’s thanking him for making coffee and then he’s telling her a joke so terrible that it makes a smile appear despite her having an utterly crap day. ”
“And that’s it?” Theo asked. “That’s the meeting.”
Olivia pushed back in the small armchair, her voice a normal volume and sipped her forgotten coffee. “But it was never the beginning.”
They sat together in silence for a few beats, breathing quietly and taking tentative sips of their coffees and bites of the now crumbled muffin on the mismatched plate.
The bell above the coffee shop door dinged again as the door swung open again.
again with another breeze of cool air, this time causing the brown paper napkins to fly wildly across the tiled floor.
A burly man walked in, a gym bag swung over his shoulder, his thin vest doing little to cover his bulging muscles.
Theo had to wonder if he was the kind of man who Olivia found attractive.
The kind that chugged protein shakes and lifted heavy weights every day.
Then, the man walked across the narrow shop with purpose.
“And cue the boyfriend,” Olivia whispered.
“She’s taken?”
“Of course she is.” Olivia’s hand reached up and began to fiddle with the necklace pendant. “Look at her, she’s gorgeous.”
Yes, she is, he thought, looking over at her golden hair against the beige background of the evening, shining like strands of pure gold. His eyes flickered down to where her hands curled around that goddamn necklace. She is gorgeous.
The gym bag smacked heavily into the back of an empty wooden chair ten feet in front of them, causing the flimsy wood to scrape painfully along the floor. The sound snapped Theo out of his thoughts and back to the café. Back towards the hoodie girl and gym stranger.
Theo frowned, watching as the burly guy leaned in and gave the girl a puckered kiss on the lips. Slinging his arm around her, the burly man shot a condescending smirk at the barista. With a huff, the poor coffee shop worker turned and stomped off behind the swinging staff door.
Theo knew what the man had done. He had claimed the girl. He had made it clear to everyone in that café, himself included, that the girl was his. No one else’s.
“The girl and the barista.” Olivia let the necklace fall from her soft grasp and leaned in once again, watching the couple out of the corner of her eyes as they wandered closer to where he and Olivia were seated.
“Let’s say they dated. For, I don’t know, five months.
He fell madly in love with her. But she didn’t fall as hard, or at all.
To her it was just an exciting, illustrious affair.
A way to pass time, keep her bed warm and her mind busy until the next man. ”
“So, she’s a casual kind of girl?”
“More like a ‘keeping my options open’ kind of girl.”
“Okay, so they break up, or were they ever really together?” Theo asked. “Because, depending on the relationship definition, the outcome is variable.”
“Just because they weren’t ‘officially dating’ doesn’t mean the barista hasn’t been completely infatuated with her from day one.
From the second she walked through those black double doors.
” Olivia gestured her hands towards the café’s entrance and sighed.
“Unrequited love can break just as many hearts as infidelity does. If not more.”
Theo looked at Olivia carefully. Taking another sip of her presumably now cold coffee, she continued. “What the barista didn’t know was that after her morning coffee, after their morning kisses and cute conversations, she was going to Pilates and getting railed in the gym bathroom by that hunk…”