I crossed my legs, getting more immersed in the book I was currently reading. I bit my lip, trying to hold in the shriek that threatened to escape me. The poor escapee was about to be caught. Goosebumps rose on my skin as I was just about to turn the page, but I was ripped out of my trance when a steaming cup of hot chocolate was slammed onto the table.
Startled, I looked up and saw Mrs. Walters giving me a sheepish smile. My irritation at being interrupted faded as soon as it had appeared.
"You've been sitting there all day reading, so I thought I might bring you something to drink," she said.
I thanked her and offered a small smile as I blew on the hot chocolate to rid it of the steam rising from it.
"How's Cyrus?" I asked. Her husband, a sweet elderly man, had recently been feeling very sick. He hated skipping work, but I hadn't seen him at the café in a while.
"He's getting better, slowly but surely. And I'm fine, Raine," she added.
I frowned at her sympathetically. She was trying to look strong, but I knew how concerned she was for her husband. Maggie wouldn't look you in the eye if she were lying, and right now her grassy green eyes were darting all around the cafe—everywhere but at me.
I reached out to straighten her name tag. Cyrus had recently made new ones for us; they were outlined in chocolate brown, matching the walls of the café, and the base was beige like all the furniture. He'd been so proud of them. Initially, he wanted ones that looked like little coffee mugs, but Maggie wasn't on board with that idea. Apparently, she was too cool for cute name tags.
She gave me a grateful smile, but like all of her smiles lately, this one didn't reach her eyes. I had always envied her and Cyrus—the bond they shared was simply beautiful.
I hoped to have that one day. But looking at guys nowadays, it seemed highly unlikely I would find someone.
I always wanted a real gentleman—someone sweet and sincere—but guys nowadays were nothing like that. Maybe I would just adopt a few cats instead.
"Not that I mind you being here, but honey, shouldn't you be out with friends? After all, it's your birthday tomorrow. You're turning 21, and that's a big year," Maggie said to me.
"Maggie, you know I don't like going out much. Sophie's been pestering me all month to let her throw me a big birthday bash. I'm not going to do anything big for my birthday. Staying home in my pyjamas, watching movies and eating popcorn sounds like the perfect birthday to me," I said.
She shook her head at me, about to respond, when the little bell at the door rang, signalling a customer had arrived. She left to attend to them, and I got back to my reading.
I looked up from my book to see the café nearly empty. Some customers had left their empty mugs loitering on the beige tabletops, and some were careless enough to even throw their takeaway cups on the floor. Some days, the dark hardwood floors looked as if our light blue takeaway cups were purposely placed there as decorations, due to how many of them there were.
Glancing outside, I was surprised to see it was pitch dark. There were so many lamps all over the café keeping it dimly lit that I hadn't even noticed.
I quickly gathered my stuff, getting ready to walk home. I set my empty ceramic mug on the countertop beside the trash can, where we had even put a sign asking customers to leave their mugs there, but unfortunately, the poor sign went quite ignored.
I waved a quick goodbye to Maggie, promising her she would see me tomorrow in time for my shift, before heading out the door into the cold.
I'd long learned not to offer to help in the café when I wasn't scheduled. Cyrus and Maggie took offers like that more as a comment on how old they were than a helpful gesture.
The café was adorable, but it wasn't located in the safest of areas, especially at night since it was completely isolated. Not that this town really had a high crime rate, but it wasn't smart to take chances.
I walked quickly, feeling my skin prickle with the sensation of being watched. That was one of the reasons I didn't like the dark. This certain paranoia that I was being watched was unavoidable.
I started walking a bit faster once I heard gravel crunching behind me, my heart rate picking up in fear. I walked at a brisk pace, reaching my little apartment in a matter of minutes.
I struggled with the keys, sighing in relief when I heard the familiar click of the lock opening. I pushed open the door and stepped into my warm apartment. I set my bag on the stand by the side, slipped off my boots and coat, and hung my coat on the coat rack. One of the perks of not living with your parents was that even if you left your shoes right in front of the door, your mother couldn't yell at you.
I walked further into the apartment, eager to sink into the warmth and comfort of my bed after that terrifying walk. Suddenly, my heart stopped as I heard a groan coming from the living room.
Looking around for a weapon, I spotted a large bright red umbrella with black hearts and grabbed it. My stature wasn't exactly intimidating, so I would need the weapon to scare off the intruder.
I wasn't very thin, perhaps just slender to average—the amount of sugar I consumed daily ensured that—but for some reason, I always appeared petite and soft. That wasn't the ideal frame for intimidation, and being 5'4" didn't help either.
I walked cautiously and slowly into the living room, despite my racing heart. Peeking around the corner, my heart skipped a beat when I saw the top of a head behind the couch.
Giving up on being cautious, I charged toward the couch with what I hoped was a battle cry, raising the umbrella high. A cringeworthy screech escaped my lips as the umbrella connected with the intruder's head. I wasn't a violent person, so this was completely new to me.
He yelled frantically for me to stop in a voice that sounded very familiar, but in my adrenaline-fueled state, I ignored him, bashing the intruder's skull with the umbrella. Suddenly, a giggle made me pause, confusing me enough to stop trying to knock out the "murderer."
The lights flickered on, revealing my best friend Sophie standing there, giggling, while Jay held his hands to his head, scowling at me.
"What are you guys doing here?" I yelled, completely exasperated.
"Why did you try to kill me?" Jay shouted, looking offended that I had hit him with my umbrella.
In my panicked state, the umbrella seemed like a great weapon, but now in the light, it looked pretty harmless.
"You were sitting in my room behind the couch. How did you get in?" I asked, still a bit shaken, trying to calm my racing heart.
He had the nerve to ask why he was attacked when he had broken into my home. Although they both probably had copies of my keys. I was being a little hypocritical—I had copies to their houses too—but I didn't hide behind couches and scare them like that.
"We wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday," Sophie said.
"By giving me a heart attack?" I asked, my voice sharp.
"Oh, you don't get to act like that. You almost killed me," Jay said, still clearly mad.
"Stop whining, you crybaby. It's a soft Steve Madden umbrella—it can't even keep out rain, let alone hurt a person," Sophie told Jay, rolling her eyes.
"But how did you know we were here?" Sophie then asked me.
"I heard a groan and thought there were murderers in the house, so I grabbed the umbrella and got ready to defend myself," I explained, my face flushing a little at how that sounded out loud. I needed to stop reading those murder mysteries—they were getting to my head.
Although attacking someone you think is an intruder is quite reasonable, I probably should have tried to get a look at the person before starting my attack. Thank God it wasn't my parents visiting—I'd be grounded till death if I hit my mom with an umbrella.
"Seriously, you think someone sneaks in, so you grab a soft little umbrella with hearts on it and run toward them screaming like a madwoman?" Sophie asked incredulously, making me blush scarlet.
"Well, anyways, happy birthday, baby pie," Jay said, wrapping me up in a bone-breaking embrace while Sophie whined in the background—apparently, they were supposed to say it together.
They had brought an adorable-looking chocolate cake. The fudge was so dense and sugary that you could feel the granular crunch of the sugar between your teeth—just as I liked my cake. Although Sophie was usually invested in trying to improve Jay's and my diet so we wouldn't die years before her, she knew birthdays were too special to eat healthy food on.
As we ate, Jay got Sophie and me caught up on all the recent gossip—most of which was probably a bit too wild to be true in our small town, or even possible. But we listened to him all the same.
Jay was such an animated storyteller; his bright green eyes would enlarge to the size of saucers as he approached the climactic parts of his story. He'd move his head around so much Sophie would have to reach over and fix his hair back into place for him, and he'd flash her a quick silly grin whenever she did, in appreciation.
Jay and Sophie were opposites—Jay was loud and obnoxious, while Sophie was super protective and much more proper. Yet, they got along so well. Sophie was basically the mother figure of the group, and Jay needed a lot more mothering than I did most of the time.
"Raine, look at this," Jay said, breaking me out of my thoughts. I refocused on the two of them and caught sight of what Jay was holding out. My cheeks turned bright red immediately.
Of course, that made my friends laugh, because apparently I was much too naive. But a man using a teddy bear to cover up his doodly doo was a bit embarrassing.
"Jay, stop searching weird stuff on my laptop. My Google search history is pretty bad as it is. The last thing I need is you searching more weird stuff. The government can look into that, you know," I told him, my voice growing hushed as I reached the last part. Jay's eyes widened.
"R-really?" he squeaked out, and Sophie nodded in response, making Jay gulp.
"Remind me—I've got to delete some search history and search for normal people things when I go home tomorrow," Jay said.
Sophie opened her mouth to say something, but I shook my head at her immediately, making her close it. She shrugged, reached for one of the forks, and dug straight into the actual cake without even bothering to cut a slice.
Well, it would just make her feel bad if she was the only one eating that way, so I was basically obligated to do the same.