I’ve always had issues listening to my instincts, the ones that scream at me, that come from down deep within my gut. I chalk the voices in my head telling me to run in the opposite direction up to being nervous, or paranoid. I’m inherently distrusting, and I tell myself that it’s my fault people leave, but I still try to be patient, and give people the benefit of the doubt.
How many chances are too many before you feel stupid for not listening to your intuition?
I think I hit my limit because right now, I feel like a complete idiot for forcing myself to try and trust another person.
I’m across the street from Flower’s Café, my favorite place to grab a muffin and caramel latte. It’s the perfect spot to read and relax, with blooming flowers everywhere, Victorian furniture, and light pink wallpaper with tiny roses on it that would seem excessive, but it’s perfect.
Unfortunately, all my issues lie in the outdoor sitting area of the beautiful café.
Michael, my boyfriend—soon to be ex—is sitting with my best friend, Courtney. His hand is outstretched across the table, her fingers intertwined with his. They share smiles, and even from across the street, while cars go by, I can hear her giggles as she laughs at one of his jokes, which I’m sure are lame. He isn’t a funny guy. Not with me. He’s very intense, almost unsettling in a way, but again, I convinced myself I just wasn’t used to someone giving me so much attention.
Michael and I have been fighting because I won’t have sex with him, but that’s the one voice I have been listening to. It’s been screaming in the back of my head to not have sex with him, plus I didn’t feel comfortable rushing things.
Now, I know why.
I watch them for a moment, my arms crossed over one another, and my fingers automatically feel the raised burn scars on my forearms under my long sleeve shirt. It’s another thing Michael hates. He can’t stand that I always cover my arms, but I refuse to let him see just so he can turn around and be hateful.
My breath catches in my throat and my eyes burn as I watch Michael and Courtney lean over the table and kiss, but tears don’t fall; my feelings for him do not go that deep. I’m upset because, again, I’ve put myself in this position. His hand cups her jaw, an affection he never shows me, and when they break apart, she has a goofy love-drunk grin on her face.
“Idiot…” I whisper to myself, staring up at the sky to stop the tears from falling. I won’t miss him, but I can’t help but wonder when it will be my turn to have a lover; a true companion that I can trust, where my instincts aren’t screaming at me to run.
I’ve been by myself for a while. When I was young, a house fire took my family from me, and I was the only survivor, left severely burnt on my arms. I bounced around from foster home to foster home until I settled on a great one. One where I was the only child, and no one called me a freak for having these scars. Kids are brutal, and even now, I see the adults aren’t much better. So I hide.
I’m tired of hiding.
Throwing my shoulders back, I look both ways before crossing the street to approach them. The breeze brings the smell of coffee and scones, and my mouth waters, my stomach grumbling, reminding me I haven’t had breakfast. But I don’t think I could eat before doing this.
I nearly trip over the curb and almost run into a man in a business suit. We barely miss shoulders, but his scent tickles my nose, and it smells fresh, like stepping outside on a foggy morning while pine trees surround me. He smells so good.
But I can’t lose focus, I have to keep my eyes forward. My determination can’t waver. I stop in front of the small iron fence that separates the café from the sidewalk. Colorful flowers line the top, and bees happily settle in the middle of the petals.
My shadow falls over their table and I snag their drinks. His is a hot coffee, black, just like his cold, dead soul. Hers is iced, with extra whipped cream, and I hope it is freezing.
Before they can process what’s happening, I dump their drinks over their heads and Michael shouts in pain as the hot liquid heats his skin. Courtney screams, standing so fast that the chair skids across the ground. Her arms are up by her side, her lips parted, and a scoff leaves them as she slings her hands to get the coffee from her skin, like a wet dog after a bath.
She’s about to say something when she lifts her head and recognizes me. Her eyes widen and her arms drop to her sides. Ice falls from the top of her head and clatters to the floor.
“Sophie,” Michael’s voice has me turning my head. “It isn’t what it looks like.”
I roll my eyes. “You really must think I’m stupid if you think for one minute I’m going to fall for that cliché, bullshit line.” I keep my voice level and calm, even though on the inside, it’s storming. All I want to do is scream. I glance at Courtney, tears threatening to fall as I look at my best friend.
Well, my ex-best friend.
“Sophie,” she whispers my name, her bottom lip trembling.
I hold up my hand to stop her from saying anything else. “Nothing you say, no apology you make will matter to me. You are no longer my friend.” I turn to Michael, wondering how the hell I ever ignored my instincts about him. “And we are over. You can have Courtney. I’m sure she’ll give you the sex you’re looking for.”
“We haven’t—”
“I don’t care, Courtney. You haven’t yet. I bet you would have, and I wouldn’t have known. Fuck you, kindly.” I tell her, spinning to Michael. “And fuck you kindly, too. We are obviously done. I’ll be getting my things soon.” I turn on my heel and walk away.
The other customers must have been listening because I see everyone’s eyes on us, and several people actually give me a thumbs up as a sign of approval, putting a smile on my face. Tears don’t fall. I will not give that asshole the satisfaction of making me cry, ever again.
I knew he wanted to have sex. He’s been pressuring me for two months, but I never thought he’d cheat.
Who am I kidding? I did know. My instincts told me to run, and I didn’t listen.
I march down the sidewalk, not knowing where to go but needing to get away from here.
“Sophie! Sophie, wait!”
I ignore Michael calling for me, rolling my eyes.
“Sophie!” he growls, gripping my arm. He tugs hard, spinning me around, and holds my biceps until it hurts. “Stop and fucking listen to me.”
I shove him away. “You have major issues and I want nothing to do with them. Stay away from me.”
His nostrils flare and coffee drips from the wet ends of his hair. “This isn’t over,” he says. “You’re mine, Sophie. I’ve put in months waiting for you.”
I rear back, shocked by his statement. “You’re a disgusting human being. I am not yours. I’ll never be yours and you will never have me.” I hurry away before he can grab me again, then cross the street just in time for a car to drive by, blocking him from following me.
This is a new beginning. Away from Michael. Away from friends I thought I could trust.
It’s the start of me listening to my instincts. They haven’t proven me wrong yet.
I have an interview tomorrow for an amazing job, which could turn out to be the opportunity of a lifetime. It’s a position to become a nanny for a little girl and to maintain the house, with an amazing salary and benefits. I also get to live in the home, so I’ll save on rent.
I can’t wait.
I need this job.
If I don’t get it, I’m not sure what I’ll do. I’ve been on my own before and I can do it again, but bouncing around from place to place is exhausting compared to finding roots.
I want to settle.
This could be my chance to do it.
