Author's note: So I have to take this poetry class and it's the stupidest thing in the world and I have to write a poem for Monday, which I don't know how to freaking do cuz I hate poetry. I also have to write a paper, and I have absolutely no idea what to write about.

With that said, hope you enjoy this ch

Thursday

He wasn't there the next morning.

At first, Emma thought he was merely running behind. She stood in line, checking her phone, people watching, breathing in the coffee scented air as money was exchanged for caffeinated drinks.

It took her several minutes to realize what she was doing above all: checking over her shoulder for him. She kept expecting his dark leather jacket clad form to cross the threshold of the coffee shop at any moment, shaking the snow from his hair. He'd step into line, maybe walking up to tap her on the shoulder and say something inappropriate yet charming that always seemed to make the long line go by faster. He would make fun of her for always drinking the same thing, maybe offer to share something for breakfast (she had yet to accept his offer). Then she'd leave, one part annoyed and two parts amused.

She'd come to expect it, come to get used to his intrusion. So his absence right now was making her feel weirdly unsettled.

He couldn't be...no. There was no way. He always came for his morning caffeine fix. Always. He was just running late, she was sure of it.

She stopped thinking he was late about twenty minutes later. He was late sometimes, sure, but not to this extent.

He was avoiding her.

Which she really shouldn't be surprised about-she'd been pretty rude yesterday. Had it been necessary? One voice inside said yes, absolutely, but another kept whispering doubts in her ear.

Either way, though, she was free of him. It was better that way. He was getting too close. She was letting her guard down a little too easily. The memory of what happened last time she let someone in was still fresh, the pain still raw. This was for the best.

Then why did she feel so empty inside?

"Hi, can I help who's next?"

Squaring her shoulders, Emma vowed never to think about him again. What's done was done, and there was nothing she could do about it. She'd made the right decision, and in time she'd stop feeling so...guilty. Yes, guilty. She decided that this awful, stomach churning feeling inside was just guilt over how she'd treated him. She'd been a little harsh, yes, but it was what he deserved.

It was easier to associate this feeling with guilt rather than something like, say, regret. Because she did NOT regret turning him down.

End of story, goodbye, the end.

"Can I get a chai tea latte please?"

"Sure. Name?"

"Emma." She lowered a hand into her purse, waiting for her fingers to hit the worn in leather of her wallet. But her fingers hit open air. Strange. Emma set her bag atop the counter and opened it. Phone, pen, headphones, keys. But no wallet. She must've left it in the kitchen when she switched bags this morning.

"Really?" She muttered to herself, rooting through her bag once, twice, and three more fruitless times. Now she'd have to go all the way back home, get her wallet, come back, and wait in line all over again. Which would make her late. Which would mean she would have to skip her latte. Which would mean no caffeine.

Oh, yeah, this was a great morning.

Sighing deeply, Emma swept her stuff back into her bag and plastered an apologetic smile on her face. "Sorry, I think I forgot my wallet." She was turning away to leave when suddenly a dark jacket clad arm snaked its way past her and placed a five dollar bill on the counter.

"No worries, I got this."

It was him, all right, but something was off. Maybe it was the stiffer way in which he held himself this morning, like he wasn't quite comfortable in his skin.

(Or maybe not quite comfortable around her).

"Oh, no…"

"It's fine." He interrupted, already pushing the bill to the barista.

He still cared! Not that she cared, of course. Because she didn't. Care, that is. She didn't care that he still cared-oh God, that was too many "careds". She was losing it.

She looked up at him and felt like something hit her from behind. His face was completely devoid of any emotion, the eyes that usually sparkled with mirth blank. It was him, but at the same time not him at all. "Thanks."

"No problem." Said the Killian doppelganger.

Emma could've let him leave, she really could. She'd vowed to cut her losses and move on. But he'd just paid for her freaking drink.

"Killian, wait."

He turned and looked down at her hand, which she immediately withdrew, feeling awkward. "Hello." Even his voice sounded different, less comforting. Yesterday it had felt like home, and today it was more like a hotel. Foreign. Distant.

"Can I talk to you for a sec?"

He shrugged.

"Um…so you're later today." Emma started awkwardly. "Bad traffic?"

Killian shrugged again. "Yeah."

Wow, this was not going well. "You gonna get any coffee?"

"Yeah."

"What kind?"

"Just coffee."

"Really?" She teased, nudging him playfully. "Just coffee? It's never just coffee with you. C'mon, what will it be today?"

Killian sighed. Emma could see a vein throbbing in his forehead. It looked like he was trying hard to restrain himself. "Yes, Emma. Just coffee. Look, if you have nothing to say then I should be going."

"Wait." Emma stopped him again, and he turned around, exasperation written all over his face. "We need to talk about yesterday."

"It's all right." He replied. "You made your intentions quite clear, and I will honor that. I'm sorry for any trouble I may have caused you."

"No, you didn't and I'm the one who should be sorry. I was unnecessarily rude and you didn't deserve it."

A small hint of a smile tugged at the edge of his lips. "Continue."

"Everything came out all wrong. What I meant to say was that I think we'd be better as friends. I mean, let's not complicate it, right? We have a good thing going."

He smiled, but his blue eyes lacked their usual spark. "Aye. I see your point."

Something weird flooded through her, replacing the guilt inside as soon as the words left his lips. "So are we good?"

Killian nodded.

Emma smiled. "Good. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"That you will, Swan." With a nod of his head, he turned to leave and Emma slipped into line. A few seconds later she realized what that feeling had been.

Pure relief.

Author's note: Just like Hook, he can't just help but be drawn to her. Let's hope she doesn't turn him down that harshly again.