Chapter 4

My hands started shaking as I adjusted my coffee cup. Glancing at my wristwatch, I wondered why Laure wasn't here yet. She had arranged to meet me at this cafe after the most recent event, and, taken by surprise at this long-awaited invitation, I had stammered a nervous compliance. Now I wondered if Laure had not meant it; if there had perhaps been some sort of misunderstanding; if it did not matter to Laure and she simply forgot. I guess I couldn't blame her though, even if she let me down, because who was I, a pathetic young girl, to judge a woman so much older than me?

But however disappointed I felt, I wasn't going to let it slip, and so I crossed my legs curtly and picked up the novel I had just left off of. Reading was a great joy to me, as it didn't involve any sort of communication with those around me and offered me a wonderful way to escape from my own troubles. But no sooner had I gotten into the rising action had a thumping noise traveled across the wooden table and startled me. Dropping my book and almost spilling the full cup of coffee, I tried to regain my composure as Laure placed herself on the seat across from me. Glancing at her umbrella hooked upon the back of the chair, I at once understood the cause for the thumping noise and willed my heart to focus on more important things than a tiny noise.

"Sorry I'm late," Laure said, "I had to run all the way because the clock at home wasn't working. You know, the closer the distance you have to travel, the more error you commit in calculating how long it will take you to arrive."

Stunned at all the new information that suddenly presented itself to me, it took all I had to force a weak smile and gesture to my coffee.

"Do you want a drink?"

"Of that?" Laure pretended to wrinkle her nose in disgust, then said, "why not."

I watched in horror as she raised my cup of coffee to her lips and drank from it. No, I did have coffee to spare, but yes, her casual demeanor had caught me off guard. In all the times I had seen her interact with the others, I had never seen such a carefree and almost teasing side of her. It was endearing, to say the least, and it made me wonder, if I were being completely honest, if I were somehow special to her.

We spent the rest of the time in the cafe making casual conversation, and when it was time for dinner Laure straightened up to leave.

"Could you hand me some napkins from across the table?"

I was only too happy to comply, and as our fingers met, I felt her linger for a second longer, the comforting warmth of her finger lighting my heart just a bit more. 

But all too soon she pulled away, gathered her things, and left with a simple "bye."

I stayed in the cafe a little longer, wondering what to do with the rest of my time. I then remembered the homework I had not yet finished, and pulled out my phone reluctantly to complete it. As I was doing so, I noticed a strap on my bag had gone loose, so I bent down to smooth it even, OCD getting the best of me. However, the strap obviously wasn't budging, so I lifted my bag from the floor to get a closer inspection of it. Upon doing so, a thin note fell from underneath the strap and I caught the curious thing with my hand before it could rest on the heavy floor.

I like you, the note said, I'm sorry if I'm rushing things, but I don't think I can stand to wait any longer. You're the best thing in my life, and I wouldn't know what to do without you. 

My breathe caught and I fumbled around to see if the author of the note had left a name.

No, of course not.

Anyone could tell that it was Laure.

I like you back, I whispered, I love you and you love me too. 

That night, walking home, I didn't feel so cold anymore, but there still seemed to be something unsettling inside my heart that seemed to say she didn't mean it. 

So, after I rounded the corner of the street, I went up the stairs of her house, then left a note that said, I'm so cold, can I stay in your room for a bit?

Then I ran, and ran, and ran, for I regretted my decision at the same time that I knew it was the only thing to do.