Coffee bean dreams

It’s like whenever I picked up the phone, I didn’t care if she wasn’t me. I was still the one who got the call. It’s funny. How infatuated I was with the way you would get so passionate about the little things. How your words flow like the waters that cradle my moon that reflects your beaming peaks. My favorite is when time moves through you as you look up and ask, “Does this look good?” The concern sweeps across the creases in your forehead as your eyes dart toward me. Pulling myself from a daze,  a “yes” finds its way from my hesitance. Yes. Yes, I am hopelessly in love with someone who doesn’t see the love I pour into the pitcher that always seems to shatter. As you shuffle out the door, all gussied up, I can’t help but feel like she’ll never appreciate the little knick on your right cheek you got rushing your shave. Hours pass. Days pass. I’ve finally mustered up the strength to tell you. I mean really tell you how I feel about you. The bells chime above me as I pull the push door to the cafe. I can see through the haze of coffee bean blends that you chose that corner spot. The one with the booth that has a faulty table. The one that has spilled our countless espressos. The one that careened my chai tea on top of my third final draft for the English class I met you in. Our spot. Blushing, I push the door and make my way to you. Conversations with you were always so easy. I let my guard down with you every time but not this time. No. This time was different. “How have you been?” You say as you lean in, with that damn head tilt. “I’ve been meaning to tell you… And this isn’t easy for me to say, alright?” You recline and grow concerned. You always had a way of worrying. As if you wanted the ones you cared for to remain unharmed. Preserved due to delicacy. 

“I like you. And I’ve liked you for a really long time. I just didn’t want to ruin this.” 

My rambling begins to cease. You were poised in your seat as though you were frozen. I grew cold and began to sink into my seat. Wishing I could sink into the reality where I didn’t say everything. The reality where you were still talking about how indie music is niche whilst still retaining its own collective appeal. 

“I-I don’t understand.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you knew that we were just that. Friends. When I came over to get ready for the date, it wasn’t me trying to confuse you.”

“No, it was just…”

“I think you’re an amazing person and that’s why I trust what we have as friends to remain that way. I’m sorry.”

The silence was deafening. I remember wishing that I could spin this into one of our pranks. Or make a joke mocking that chick flick we finished watching. Little do you know, I was secretly hoping you would take back what you said. Like you weren’t ready to say what you really meant. I guess if you love it, let it go. Right?

“I wasn’t telling you how I felt because I wanted you to feel the same. I just wanted to stop beating myself up for being so scared of what could be. I wanted to stop dreaming. And I know it’s not stupid but I am glad I know now. And I’m sorry for no longer wanting to be your friend.”

Your face went gray. You looked frazzled yet were glued to your seat with restraint.

“Wait. Why? I know what you mean but I don’t want to lose you.”

“Because I can’t stop falling for you.”

Silence continued to wash between our tides. The only thing that was rocky was this conversation. Not the table. For once.

The friendship had ended. He and I both knew that things weren’t as simple as homework in English class. It wasn’t going to be a tide that hugs the shore. We had crashed and it seemed that I was the only one drowning. I still wonder how you did that. Keep your demeanor even though the storm was approaching. You knew you were going to miss me. But what broke my heart is that it wasn’t going to be the way I missed you. Then it dawns on me why I fucking hate cafes.