Bitter Coffee

She hasn't seen him in over three years. She remembers their last encounter - she didn't know it then that it'd be their last - with the bittersweet aftertaste of someone who's left too many things unsaid. And it frustrates her.

Her cowardice. His silence. Her love for him. His indifference. All the would have beens and could have beens outweighing what she knows deep in her heart are should have beens.

She sighs, stirring her coffee and reveling in the fact she's in New York. It only took her three years, but she's made it. She slings her bag over her shoulder, secures the lid on her to-go cup and stares at her feet as she exits the Starbucks. She should have paid attention to where she was going.

"I'm sorry," a masculine voice says, taking all of the blame.

"No, it was totally my fault," she has yet to look up as she brushes the drops of coffee off her jacket. She knows it's hopeless; knows you can't brush liquid off of clothing, but she tries. This is her favourite red jacket and to have it ruined...

She finally looks up and comes face-to-face with familiar black eyes. She slowly registers the blush on the apples of his cheeks and feels her own skin warming under his gaze. They've never been officially introduced - he was the friend of a friend of a friend; the friend of the cousin of another - but they were never oblivious. They exchanged few words in the past. They knew of one another. (She knew all about him, in fact.)

"Hi," he says, his awkwardness making her cringe inwardly.

"Hey," she smiles, despite herself. "Dylan, right?"

She's never been brave, but now is her chance! Fate is intervening. She never did intervene three years before; never gave her the chance to make this boy's acquaintance. At last, Fate was stepping in.

She only hopes it's not too little, too late.

"Yeah," he answers, shifting awkwardly on the balls of his feet. "I'm sorry, I know I know you, but I don't seem to remember your name."

Ouch.

"Molly."

"Right, Molly." He gives her a warm smile and if she wasn't embarrassed already, she's sure her face would be bright red. "This is weird," he says, laughing. Whether he's laughing at her or the situation or even the fact her face could melt a hunk of ice, she doesn't know. All she knows is the guy of her dreams is standing before her.

"Yeah," she laughs. It's breathy and quiet and she has to clear her throat before she can continue. "I didn't expect to bump into anyone familiar."

"Do you live here?" He asks, having mercy on her. Anyone can see how uncomfortable and awkward she feels. She's great at small talk, but right now, standing next to this perfect boy with kind eyes and gelled back hair, in her dirty red coat and red face, she can't bear to speak.

"No, I'm here visiting a friend. Uh, you... do you live here?"

She peeks up at him through her thick lashes, chastising herself for being nosy.

"Yeah, I moved here after graduation. I'm writing, actually. Got a job."

As if he's just realized he's sharing too much with a near-stranger, he gives a slight shrug and smiles.

"Wow. Congrats," she says, her voice lame. Realizing how surreal this situation is, she pastes on a smile. "That's really impressive, actually. I never took you for a writer..."

If she could, she would shoot her own foot.

I never took you for a writer? Really? Does her mouth want to make her come off as creepy? She closes her eyes and shakes her head.

"Not that... I mean, I would've assumed..."

He laughs. Not a cruel or mean sound, but honest and amused.

"I understand. All those times we saw one another, we didn't really know each other."

"I always pegged you for a science/math guy." The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them.

Another laugh.

"I always pegged you for a psych or English major," he counters.

Now it's her turn to laugh. She shakes her head, bites her lip and sighs.

"Nope. Boring BEd."

"A teacher?" His eyebrows are raised.

"A high school teacher," she amends.

"So you're a patient person, I take it," he says with another honest and amused laugh.

"My younger siblings would beg to differ, but apparently." She smiles at him, staring deep into his eyes.

"Excuse me," someone says, lightly pushing her aside. It's then she realizes that she's back inside the store. She idly wonders how they migrated inside; she'd thought they were still at the exit. She hears him clear his throat beside her, as though also just realizing where they are, and she pretends to look at her watch.

"Um, wow. Look at - look at the time!"

"Right. Sorry for, uh, distracting you," he apologizes. His eyes are all but apologetic and she's able to detect the playfulness behind his gaze. She laughs, nods once and holds out her hand.

"It was nice to see you, Dylan."

He stares at her outstretched hand and takes it in his. It's warm, dry, and it covers all of hers.

"Yeah. Definitely."

She slowly - reluctantly - withdraws her hand, and smiles. She walks to the counter, taking a handful of napkins, for the road, and gives him a small wave when she turns to leave.

"Wait," she hears him call out.

She turns on her heel and quirks an eyebrow.

"Why don't you join me?"

Join him? She stares at him, unable to respond and he mistakes her silence for a refusal.

"Forget it... you're probably busy."

"No, I'm not!"

"You're... not?"

"I'm meeting with my friend tomorrow. Tonight I'm wide open. I mean, I'm free."

She scratches her ear, a nervous twitch she's had since she was a child and holds her breath.

"Great," he says, biting his bottom lip.

"Great."

This is the first time she's seen him in over three years. She walks over to a table and sits, waiting for him to join her. She thinks back to their last encounter and sips from her coffee. There's no more bitter aftertaste in her mouth. She no longer feels frustrated at her inaction or his obliviousness.

Everything happens for a reason. Right?

He soon joins her, laughing about something the barista said and she feels her mouth quirk up into a smile. She sighs, sipping her coffee and reveling in the fact she's actually sitting with him. It only took her three years, but she's made it.