Chapter 3
Theo hated this. Her acting this way when he was purely apologetic. "If you really want the coffee that bad, come back and I'll buy it for you." He sent the text and it didn't yield a response; he'd expected that. She read it with a crinkled brow. She generally kept her cool, but sometimes, Theo was just…well, infuriating. This wasn't about coffee. She was insulted on a number of levels, the first and most important one being that he really thought it was about coffee.
She drove for what felt like hours, but it wasn't really at all. In situations like this, she usually confided in Cory. He was a great listener, and he always seemed so logical in his advice to her. He cared for her; that fact was obvious. As she pulled into his apartment complex and strode to his door, it all seemed routine. She'd done it so many times before. The main difference, of course, was that this was usually done on a happier occasion. Only once before had she shown up unexpectedly, and upset. It was never uninvited; she was always a welcome guest in his home. Her tiny fingers curled into a fist and lightly tapped on his door. No answer. It was unusual, she thought, but certainly not a surprise. Had she called and told him she was going to visit, he'd have broken his neck to get there. She frowned, tucking her hair behind her ear. As she rubbed her arms on the way back to the car, contemplating whether to go talk to Theo, Cory pulled in. He spotted her from the entrance and practically dashed out of his car. She looked upset.
"I'm so-" was all she could get out before he practically ran up to check on her. "Did something happen?" he asked. He was usually calm and collective, but this was different. She was different. She nodded quickly. "Yes, it's fine, really," she offered. "I just…" she said in between sniffles. That nearly killed him. "Come on, let's get you inside. Kind of windy out." In spite of the short distance from the sidewalk to his apartment, he put his jacket around her anyway. He led her inside, gently closing the door before walking over with her to the couches. "What happened?" he asked, more calmly this time. She remained stone-faced for a moment. Should I tell him? she thought. Will he think I'm weird? she kept asking herself. "Theo…" she said after a long moment of silence to collect herself, "told me." He looked a bit confused. Frankly, the conversation between the two of them hadn't fazed him much. Theo, he figured, was probably more bark than bite. "What did he tell you?" he asked after another few long moments. Her behavior was beginning to worry him; she was usually so bright and optimistic. It was what drew him to her, and what kept drawing him to her. She always saw the bright side of things, no matter how dark it might have seemed at the time.
She put her hand on his knee. She was great with words, yes; she was even better with singing them (obviously.) But, as much as she was good at those things, she was also good at connecting with people. Physically and emotionally. "I didn't tell him to do that," she finally admitted. "I just wanted my black coffee with rice milk." Her bottom lip came out into a pout. It was oddly adorable how, such a small thing as rice milk, could throw someone on the brink of tears. "Hey, hey," he said, scooting closer and pulling her into a hug. "He didn't bother me." His voice was muffled by her shirt. She was great at hugs; incidentally, so was he. He rubbed her back affectionately. She began to cry a little; she liked both of them. She didn't want to lose Cory to someone else's jealousy. "That's not the point," she said into his shirt. "He had no right to-" Before she could finish, he gently pulled away. Both of his over-sized hands were now cupping her face. She sort of hand chipmunk cheeks now, and it made him smile, though he realized it was bad timing. "It's fine," he said with a gentle yet stern reassurance. "If I had a woman like you…" He began to ramble again. It was a little hard for her to pay attention after that, whether she wanted to admit it or not. He was speaking pseudo hypothetically. If he had her meant that he really did want her; he was simply informing of her what he would do in a situation if it would ever have the ground to happen between them. It definitely did.
What happened next was…well, to say the least, strange. She leaned forward and kissed him. We don't rehearse until tomorrow…he thought. Then it hit him. She wasn't practicing her stage blocking. This was real. He paused for a moment, remembering he'd eaten cream cheese. If he pulled away now to tell her that, he would have been an idiot, and she would have left. He didn't want that, and she didn't either. He stayed there for a moment before he moved a little closer to her. In the course of three seconds, his felt his heart rate spike dramatically. If there would have been anything flammable near them, all hell would have broken loose from the spark. She kissed him for a few more seconds before falling back, pulling him with her.
5 .a.m. the following morning, just before call-time.
It was brief, yet still passionate. As the birds outside began chirping, she shifted in her spot. The arm the was around her wasn't one she was used to. It was much heavier, and a little less hairy. She opened her eyes; the freckles on his arm were staring her right in the face. She swallowed thickly. She'd fallen asleep under the impression that, just a few hours before, had been a dream. A dream, she repeated in her head before she half-turned. It wasn't a dream. And there he was, looking as peaceful as ever. Some hair stuck to his forehead. He had a small five o'clock shadow. The most noticeable thing, however, was his smile. It was plastered on his face. He'd either had a great night or a great dream; it was both, though, she had no way of knowing. He didn't feel her move. He was far too comfortable. She laid there a few minutes. She had an odd sense of guilt, but it was nearly overpowered with something she hadn't felt in a really long time. She didn't know the feeling; it was too hard to describe. She felt a tingle in her stomach, just laying there next to him. She was a little scared to move, for a number of reasons. She didn't want to wake him, but she just didn't want to leave his side for a while. It was the first time that her call-time became an annoyance.
As quietly as she possibly could, she moved his arm. It took a few minutes. She wasn't sure if he was a light sleeper or not, and didn't want him to wake up until his alarm went off. He didn't move a muscle.
She slid on her shirt, then her sweatpants. (She'd changed after arriving home. It was her favorite night-time ritual…sweatpants.) She slid on her socks, shoes and grabbed her bracelet. She was uncannily quiet. She carefully grabbed her keys from the nightstand. And, just like that, she was gone back to her apartment.
