M A D I E

September Twenty-Second

Two

Some people say

when it rains, it pours...

—

Bren and I walked in relative silence across campus.

This guy was a total enigma to me.

I'd tried so hard to listen to that nice lady about how to get organized and stay on top of my schoolwork. But it had been a challenge of a lifetime with Bren across the table, his eyes darting between Mrs. White and me. He'd sat with his head in his hand, his fingers occasionally flexing, dragging across his jawline, every movement a telltale sign that something was bothering him.

And every flex of his fingers reminded me of how the same hand had clenched his hair that night. It reminded me of how his other hand had gripped Nessa's hair while—

Nope, I needed to stop thinking about him like that. Guilt attacked my conscience for daring to picture the moment, and it made me hesitant to go with Bren to the coffee shop. I needed to get away from him. Or, more accurately, I needed to get away from the flickers of inappropriate images that seemed to accompany his presence.

But Bren had implied that I wouldn't go with him because of Quinton, and I wanted to prove to him that he misunderstood my relationship. So I agreed. Besides, Bren was a good study partner; I just needed to expel any unwanted thoughts about him.

The moment the cafe came into view, I froze.

It was a small, brick building, smashed between a boutique and a dinky pub. Massive glass windows overwhelmed the front of the cafe. The Coffee Grounds was etched across the glass in decorative lettering, giving it the air of a small-town cafe despite the big city it resided in.

But what surprised me wasn't the cafe itself but the face that lingered behind the words on the window.

Bren spun around, confused why I'd stopped.

"What?"

It all made sense now. Bren didn't want to come here because he was sick of whitewashed dorm room walls. He wanted to come here because this was where Nessa worked.

I raised a brow at him, and his look of bewilderment only grew.

"Madie?"

This guy was using me to get to my roommate again. My roommate, who'd already caught sight of me through the window, waving excitedly as she wiped down a cafe table.

Clearing my throat, I pointed to Nessa. "This is where Nessa works."

Bren's head whipped around, following my finger.

There was a silent moment between us despite the city continuing to whir. I never knew how that worked. I never knew how all noises could drown away, somehow making the absence of a voice that much louder.

"Oh," he said flatly. I couldn't see his face. I wished I could. After a long pause, he spoke again. "Well, did you want to go say hi?"

"Of course."

I'm sure he wanted to go say hi.

The Grounds, as Nessa had called it, welcomed us into its folds, overpowering the senses with the scent of strong coffee. The cafe had a weathered aesthetic; exposed brick peeked through the fraying drywall that lined the tables. The lighting was low, and the gray sky outside helped little. However, soft acoustic music brightened the atmosphere.

"Hey guys!" Nessa exclaimed, flipping a rag over her shoulder and rounding the corner of the countertop to take her position behind the register. Her usually dry voice was overly vibrant as she tried to overcome the unexpectedness of the moment. Her eyes shifted between the two of us, uncertainty evident in her gaze.

Bren cleared his throat. "Hey Nessa," he said. "I didn't know you worked here."

Sure.

Nessa smiled, beating the awkwardness quicker than I. "Yeah, my cousin knows the owner and got me the job. It's been great. They're actually looking for more help, and I've been trying to get Madie to apply."

She gave me a pointed look, which I ignored. I'd thought about applying, but Quinton reminded me how stressed I already was with my schoolwork. He was right; a job on top of everything else wasn't a good idea. Not yet, anyway. Maybe next semester I could apply if they still needed help.

"Oh really?" Bren asked. His typically shuttered face opened for a split second, showing his interest.

"Yeah, you want an app?" Nessa offered, looking back to Bren.

He shrugged before saying, "Sure, why not."

Of course.

Nessa ducked beneath the counter, and for a moment, all we saw was black hair. Her messy bun bobbed back and forth as she tried to find out what she was looking for. Finally, she popped back up, handing over a piece of paper to Bren.

"I think there's a copy online, too," she said. "But here you go."

"Thanks," Bren said, a slight smile tugging on his lips. "Can I get some dark roast?" He slapped some money down on the counter and then turned back to me. "What do you want, Madie?"

I'd begun to feel like an outsider, watching this scene unfold, and so I was honestly a little surprised when Bren addressed me. I floundered for a moment before getting a grip on myself. With a quick step, I approached the counter to order and pay for my drink, smiling at Nessa.

Seeing the questions in her eyes, I decided to answer them. "We were at the tutoring center and decided to get off campus to do some studying for awhile."

"Have fun," she said before winking and swiveling away to make our drinks. I rolled my eyes. I loved that girl, but she was dead clueless.

Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed that Bren had wandered away, finding us a table in the corner of the cafe.

"So what are you reading for your lit class?" he asked as I sat down, curling myself into an armchair.

"The Awakening." Sighing, I grabbed the book out. "It makes my head hurt."

"Oh, nice," he said.

The tone in his voice made me tilt my head. "You've read it?"

"Yeah, in high school." He shrugged. "I'm not the type to go out of my way to read a book, but English was probably my favorite class."

"Well, I think this book is a little dry," I retorted, taking the paperback out and flipping through it.

"Maybe on the surface," Bren replied with a little smirk. "But you gotta look deeper, keep going. I mean, if you read between the lines of that nineteenth-century jabbering, it's a little risque." He broke off, an amused expression spreading over his face. "I'm honestly surprised that they had us read it in high school."

I sat the book down in my lap and stared at him, intrigued. Bren propped an elbow on the worn table between us and stared back, his brown eyes alight with interest. I wondered what he saw.

"Damn," I murmured finally, breaking our eye contact.

"What?" he asked with a chuckle.

"It seems you know your stuff. Can you write my paper?"

"No." He shook his head, and his dark hair fell down over his forehead. "But hey, don't sound so surprised," he pointed out with a smile. "It's only math that I really suck at."

"How does that work?" The question slipped through my lips before I could stop it. Luckily Bren didn't seem to care, shrugging his shoulders.

"I have a normal IQ, Madie." Amusement danced across his features again. "If I didn't, that'd be a different kind of disability." Bren grabbed his backpack, opening it and pulling out his laptop. He glanced at me once more. "I've just never understood math. The numbers flip around in my head. I can't concentrate or make sense of it."

I nodded slowly, taking it in. There were so many things I was ignorant of but didn't want to bother him about. Instead, I tried to focus on The Awakening while Bren began typing away on his computer. I didn't have my glasses, though, and the words blurred together. I bent my head closer, trying to make sense of the nineteenth-century jabbering.

"Besides," Bren added softly, not even looking up from his computer. "I doubt you need my help. I know you probably aced all your English classes in high school."

I narrowed my eyes at him, and he shrugged.

"I can just tell."

I didn't bother denying it.

"This is different. Usually I just write what I know what my teachers want to hear. Usually the essay question is something with an easily identifiable right or wrong approach. This is...this is all about our own interpretation. And I don't know what my professor wants."

Bren looked up. "They want your truth, I suppose."

He stared at me for a long moment after that until eventually dropping his gaze. It was hard for me to return to reading, too absorbed by Bren's words and that look in his warm eyes. 

Nessa dropped off our drinks, and I wrapped my hand around the mug while I read. A mixture of vanilla and caffeine warmed the soul. Rain began to fall. The light patter of it distracted me as it hit against the large windows. The rhythm of the drops was soothing, but it didn't quite fit with the background music. Occasionally, the sound of a car driving through growing puddles drew my attention to the darkening street outside.

It was getting late.

My phone chimed, and I glanced down to see a text from Quinton.

Bren must have noticed. "How did you and Quinton meet?" he asked while I was replying to the text.

I paused my typing and looked up. Bren's face was half-covered by his mug of coffee as he hovered it in front of his mouth.

"In high school," I said. "We both played sports, ran in the same circles. And then one day he ended up sitting next to me in class, and the rest is history."

"What sport did you play?" 

I put my phone down, wanting to give Bren my full attention. Quinton wanted to know where I was, and I honestly wasn't sure how to reply to that yet anyway.

"I played soccer."

Bren took interest in that, leaning forward across the table with a shy smile. "Yeah? Me too. I was never that great, but hell, I miss it sometimes."

A wistful grin spread over my face because I could relate. This time of year always reminded me of the fall sports season. The heat blasting down on us during practices. The cool air hitting my cheeks during evening games. Crunching through fallen leaves on the field. Late nights trying to catch up on homework.

"I miss it, too," I said.

"We should hit up the fields sometime. Just kick the ball around a bit."

My smile grew. "I'd like that."

I really would. Quinton tugged on my brain, though, and I glanced down at my phone. Bren, intuitive as ever, caught it.

"So you guys have been dating for a while?"

A nod. "Since freshman year." 

"That's a long time." He took a sip of the hot, black drug.

"It is," I said, smiling. "We've always been inseparable. Even our parents became inseparable by the time we graduated." My grin faltered slightly. "College has been a little different."

After a hasty drink from my own mug, I hedged onto the topic I was curious about. "What about you and Nessa? What's going on there?"

An uncomfortable grimace overtook Bren's face before he shook his head. "That was just a one-night thing."

I decided to bare my thoughts. "I wondered if maybe you wanted to come here so you could talk to her. If you wanted my help..." I trailed off, not really sure what I was offering or why I was doing it.

He shook his head again, this time with a tight laugh. "No, I got her number from Beau, and we texted the day after that party. I like her, but neither of us is looking for anything like that. I had no idea she worked here, Madie."

I nodded, taking that in before finally turning my attention back to the text I was writing to Quinton. A bit of tension released from my shoulders, and I ignored it, focusing instead on my phone.

Honesty was the best policy, right?

I'm at a coffee shop with Bren, studying, I typed out and hit send.

But then my phone chimed again with Quinton's reply. And I realized I hadn't been trying to prove anything to Bren by coming here—it'd had nothing to do with what he thought about my relationship.

I'd been trying to prove something to myself.

And I'd been wrong.

—

September Twenty-Second

One

But it wasn't just raining.

And it wasn't even pouring.

It was calm.

It was preparing for a storming.

🖤
Thanks for reading chapter twelve. Lots of love to you all.