[4] It Was Inevitable

I shut my eyes tight. I keep thinking that maybe if I shut them tight enough, time will fast forward or bend to my will somehow so that I can avoid the inevitable. I'm hoping that maybe if I keep them closed, I'll look asleep and the inevitable won't happen.

The inevitable: 6:45 am

Dun Dun Dunnnnn

...But here I am, apron-clad standing behind the register, tapping the pads of my fingertips on the faded laminate counter expectantly, completely unable to control time.

It's too bad that I can't because when I slowly open my eyes and spare a quick glance over at the clock just above the door to the left, there it is. My anxious wishful thinking kicks in as the seconds countdown

8 seconds

...maybe he hates coffee now

7 seconds

...maybe he'd just rather have some tea

6 seconds

...maybe he's on some sort of caffeine cleanse?

5 seconds

...ooo! maybe he's detoxing!

4 seconds

...I mean, that would explain his foul mood

3 seconds

...or maybe he slept in really late

2 seconds

...oh god I hope he hates coffee now

1 seconds

...please let him hate coffee

The bell rigged to the door goes off. I can feel the dread deep in the pit of my stomach grow.

My eyes shift down from the clock and are met with shockingly hazel ones that almost seem to sparkle in the early sunlight. That soft, small sparkle does not apply anywhere else, everything about him is jagged and sharp; whatever the opposite of soft is. He looks me up and down, assessing me, taking in every detail.

And I hate it. I hate him.

"Someone's grouchy" Jack concludes, mumbling under his breath and shifting his eyes sideways in an irritated manner.

I resist to urge to scoff and I attempt to stay calm. I'm finding this difficult though, he's standing in front of the counter now, his face a lot closer to mine than I would prefer.

I suck in a breath.

"Excuse me, what did you just say?" I say slowly with venom in my voice, straightening my posture to appear as intimidating as possible.

I present my question confidently, but that confidence falters.

In fact, I lose it all entirely when he simply turns his body and stares at me straight on, raising his eyebrow with a smug look on his face as he gives me a once-over, lowering his lids in a dramatic way as if to say

"Really?" "You know exactly what I said."

How. Annoying. I clench my jaw; I'm angry but also completely determined to not let this stupid boy affect me. I mentally encourage myself and put on my fakest smile.

"What can I get for you today?"

I try to say it in a sickeningly sweet manner to get on his nerves.

Too bad I forgot.

Nothing gets on his nerves.

He crosses his arms. Every movement he makes is calculated. He is always one step ahead. I hate it. Jack has this magic ability to appear so distant that nothing can touch him. Even in anger, he appears cool and collected.

He turns around and leisurely strolls away, while casually stating,

(I'm assuming with a smirk on his face)

"You know what" with his back facing me.

///

Just as I'm about to open the door to leave, something yanks me backward. I turn around and observe my mother's strong grip on the handle of my backpack.

"Nuh-uh-uh mister," she says, waggling the pointer finger of her free hand at me.

"You couldn't possibly think that I would let my youngest child leave on the first day of school without a proper goodbye, did you?"

I snap my fingers jokingly in fake frustration "Gosh darn it, I almost escaped."

This earns a laugh from my mother who has now released her grip on my backpack and turns me around to face her, both hands on my shoulders, giving me a loving smile.

"Look at you, all grown up," she says with a little bit of loving humor, wiping a fake tear from her eye.

Ruffling my hair she mumbles, "the same greasy hair though."

I swat away her hand, "Hey!"

She shrugs her shoulders and holds her hands up in innocence "What? I'm just saying you could shower more often, that's all."

I scoff. "I shower at least every other day and I'll have you know a surplus of legit scientific studies prove that it's not healthy to shampoo your hair more than once every three days."

I cross my arms on my chest. "So there," I end with finalizing sass.

"Whatever, tell that to your greasy hair."

"Mommm" I groan, pleading with her to stop.

"Okay, okay, I'll let it go," she concedes.

I straighten my posture. "Thank you."

She points a finger at me, "but when your sister comes home... if she agrees with me, you will shower every day and shampoo that hair, too."

"Why!"

She sends me a testing look.

"Unless you'd rather go into the hair salon with me to get their opinion..."

My cheeks burn up and eyes widen.

"No!" I protest rather loudly, pushing my hands out toward her as if I could physically stop her from deciding that was the best option and embarrass me further.

I realize how stupid I look and so I cough, clearing my throat.

I straighten out my shirt and try to maintain at least some semblance of dignity.

"No. That won't be necessary."

Now I just have to think of ways to bribe my sister before my mom gets to her...

"Wait, when is she coming home again?"

My mom sighs, "This weekend. I've only reminded you like a thousand times."

The realization dawns on me.

"Ohhhh that's why you've cared so much about the cleanliness of my toilet."

"Yeah," she replies, "but your toilet isn't what I'm really concerned about; it's that nearly clogged up drain in your shower that has me worried."

She brushes off my shoulders, plucking a particularly long strand of my hair from my shirt and observing it in disgust. "I swear you shed more than the dog."

"Okay... but why do we have to clean everything up again?" I ask, thinking of my own sister's habits, "Clara's apartment isn't exactly exemplary when it comes to high standards of cleanliness... and she's family, exactly who are we trying to impress?"

My mom's posture stiffens defensively, "Clara is only going to be here for a few short days. After that she has to head back for the start of classes and who knows when she will have the time to visit again?"

Whenever she needs money

"...So I just want to have quality family time while she's here."

"Is this family time happening in my shower? ...because I'm still not seeing--"

My mom gives me a death glare.

"-- a connection," My voice gets quiet and I look away.

While I avoid eye contact with my slightly fuming mother, I notice my surroundings. I'm still standing by the door of the cafe and it's 6:57, there are people in the cafe, my mom is still-

there are people in the cafe.

...he's still here

I spare a glance in his direction.

I wish I hadn't.

I see a flicker of amusement on his face, but mostly-- mostly anger.

Why is he angry?

Ugh, whatever, like I care.

I realize I must've had a strange look on my face because my mom snaps her fingers in front of my face, then waves. "Hello, earth to Spencer."

"Sorry mom, I was just dozing off thinking about how much trouble I'll be in if I'm late."

"Ha ha ha funny joke. You've never been late in your life, unlike your father..." she shakes her head "anyways you've always been so polite to the secretary up front that I'm pretty sure you could show up 3 hours late and she wouldn't care."

She takes out her phone.

"AND we still have to take your first day of school picture!!!"

She pretends to be snapping photos of me from different angles like a model photographer.

"Mom." I chuckle slightly. "You're holding it upside down."

"Oh, oops! Whatever, we have to go outside to take these anyways..."

She walks away from me and opens the door.

She gives a thoughtful look. "Maybe that lighting will help your hair look less greasy."

"Mom!"

-----

AN:

Did or do your parent(s)/guardian(s) insist on taking pictures of you on your first day of school every year, or is it just me?

Also, what do you think Jack could possibly be angry about?

PS: voting & commenting legit make my day and every single read makes me smile so thank you for reading:)

Love,

Leah