The cafe laid ahead, its royal blue paint glistening in the first rays of the day. Maxon could see the snow shards which clung jewel-like to the name The Roasted Bean. Outside the sidewalk that would bustle in a few short hours was quietism, the concrete oblivious to whether it was midday or midnight.
Waking up before noon isn't that bad, after all. Maxon had thought when he first inhaled the asepsis in the air after exiting his Corvette's closed compartment.
Maxon's face smirked upwards at the sight of the snow shoveler to the right; there were quite a few that he located on his way to where Eliza worked. He had often wondered who cleared the roads from snow during heavy winters, and he finally had the answer to that. The people working were steadfast, focused and Maxon wondered what that felt like.
If Maxon stopped walking, he could almost hear the heartbeat of the gigantic New York City, like the ticking of an old grandfather clock. Though he was in no hurry, he kept walking at a quicker pace, jittery to meet Eliza again.
Their last encounter was.. awkward, at the least. And he was worried if she had already formulated a concocted opinion about him. If he wanted their plan to succeed, he needed to tug the most endearing smile and a very soft demeanor.
All this overthinking and perturbation had made him come to an abrupt stop - yesterday's events.
Rushed thoughts, Kimberly's words, her scent, and the fluttering sensation in his heart trundled through his brain like a through the train with no intention of stopping as he halted before an ornate glass door with a wooden handle. He shook his head, putting Kimberly at the back of his head as he inhaled a deep breath.
Without another thought, he squelched open the door and spotted her perched on one of the coffee tables, a book in hand, and what looked like a cup of hot beverage.
He knew he'd have to encounter her eventually but looking at her just sitting there caused something in his stomach to stir. He'd never been so nervous to talk to women before. He always got he wanted, whether it be women, money, or something else.
Maxon was gripped by a grave problem. He didn't know how to approach her. The mere thought of doubt had him question his entire being. Maxon wasn't one of the guys who got anxious before asking a girl/guy out. But something about Eliza made him nervous; it was like he cared about what she thought of him.
He found it absurd, considering he didn't even know the girl.
So he stood there like an idiot for what seemed like a whole minute before the barista located him. She waved him over, and he chickened out; instead of walking up to Eliza, he went to the counter.
"Hi, what would you like to have?" The barista's name on the tag read Anika as she drilled her blasé eyes into him nonchalantly.
Maxon bit his lip, giving a once over to the Today's Special. It was a gourmet breakfast with a complimentary English muffin. He pondered upon it for a few minutes, re-evaluating his hunger, but the sweet aroma buoyant around the compact cafe made him surrender, and he finally placed his order.
"Gourmet breakfast." He smiled, pulling out his black AmericanExpress visa.
Anika huffed exasperatedly as she drilled holes in his head, hot under her collars. "You sure you will eat all of that?"
That sentence roughly translated to, Do you want me to cook all of that at seven in the morning? But Maxon seemed oblivious to the hidden meaning as his mouth curled into a frown.
"Uh-yes?" Maxon narrowed his eyes at Anika's abrupt hostility. Baristas were usually supposed to be delightful, inviting, and good servers, but Anika was the complete opposite of that stereotype. She stood as if he held no care for anyone in this world, like she would rather be anywhere, but there serving him.
Anika groaned, muttering something incoherently, which Maxon knew better than to ask. He let it go as the cranky barista yanked open the door with Authorized Personnel on its top.
"Did I say something offensive?" He stood there talking to himself, credit card in hand, as he watched the barista storm off but not before giving him a noncommittal look.
"Don't mind her. She's not a morning person. She's not a people person either."
Maxon turned around only to be welcomed by a similar pair of baby blue eyes. He buffered for a second before realizing that he hadn't given any kind of reaction and was coming off as slightly creepy.
So he chuckled nervously.
"Maxon, right?" Eliza placed her now empty coffee mug along with her book on the table as she gaped at him.
"You remember me," Maxon exclaimed, touched by her memory expertise.
For Maxon, she was a task, but for her, he was a one-night stand. And Maxon usually forgot the names of his one night stands even before they woke up and vice versa. So it was refreshing for someone to remember him who was an insignificant acquaintance.
"Why won't I?" Eliza smiled, the sunlight glistening off the silvery specks in her eyes. She gestured him to take a seat, and he was taken aback by her civility.
Maxon would've run the other way if he ever saw any of the women he slept with across the road. But Eliza seemed unusually welcoming and warm.
Maxon wasn't used to that.
"I don't know- because I didn't have a great first impression? I came off as desperate and a little clingy when we first met." Maxon suggested as he pulled the chair out of its original position and plopped down. He wasn't lying; the mere memory of him crouched on his knees, begging her to go out with him, made him cringe. He defended himself by saying he was hungover and put on the spot. But deep in his heart, he knew it wasn't the truth.
"Yeah, you're right. This is awkward. Get out." Eliza's eyes bore into him, locking him in his place. Her blue orbs lost their precursory warmth for a second as she scrutinized him. Maxon gaped at her in bewilderment, not knowing whether to get up or stay in place.
One look at Maxon's flushed face made Eliza more sympathetic towards him. She burst out in a chuckle, bobbing her head backward as a lock of hair plopped onto her forehead. "I was kidding."
Maxon sighed in relief. "You got me there."
"Sorry." Eliza's giggle rolled about the cafe like a child's spinning top, vibrant and heartwarming as it echoed through the empty room.
"So, what're you doing here at seven a.m.?" Maxon initiated as he grabbed the jug of water from a nearby table and poured it into a glass before chugging it down.
"I usually work here, but today's my day off." Eliza grinned, placing the bookmark on the designated page as she closed it before placing both her hands on the table and focusing on him.
"Really?" Maxon feigned surprise. He knew it; he had read it in her file. "You own a summer house in Hamptons, so why would you work here?"
Eliza propped up her elbow on the table as she bit her lip anxiously. It seemed like a gazillion thoughts were haunting her brain at that exact moment. "It's a long story- you won't understand."
"I'm a good listener." Maxon grinned, waiting for Eliza to speak, but she just pressed her eyebrows together in a somber expression as she sighed.
Something flashed beneath the hardened surface of her expression, and Maxon hurried to investigate the sudden shift. It was too late; the emotion had disappeared before he could identify it. It was like reaching desperately for an escaped balloon, the string dangling so tantalizingly close, but the wind pushed it away, and it was lost for ever.
The mere shift in her expression was like that balloon.
"Let it go."
"Did I touch a nerve?" Maxon backed off, slumped at the breakfast table, his brows creased, and face tensed. He shouldn't have pried, he knew that, but he didn't know how to fix this.
Eliza refused to answer, which made her answer all the more clearer. Maxon mentally slapped himself, two minutes in, and he'd already screwed up.
Way to fuck things up, Maxon, He heard Kimberly's voice in his head.
As if on cue, Anika dashed open the Authorised Personnel door with a large plate in her hand. After settling down the plate in front of Maxon, Anika grunted as she said in an obligatory tone, "Would you like something to drink?"
"Chai tea?" Maxon raised his eyebrows, looking for any signs of disgruntlement on the barista's face.
But to his surprise, she only nodded as she looked at Eliza. "You want anything before you leave?"
"Refill. Black coffee." Eliza shook her mug in her hand as Anika grasped it before strolling back to the counter. Soon the whirring of machines filled the serene quietism.
He scrunched his nose up in resentment. Maxon could never comprehend how people liked black coffee; there was no flavor, just bitterness. He preferred an excellent hot latte over a flavorless black coffee. "Really? Black coffee?"
"Hey, don't mock black coffee, okay?" Maxon let out a relieved sigh. Eliza seemed to have relaxed back into her frolicsome self. He had crossed a boundary before, so he mentally made a note never to ask personal questions until told otherwise.
"It seems a little monotonous," Eliza continued. "But there's a lot of nuanced flavors inside."
"Nuanced flavors?"
"Yeah." Eliza's gaze settled on Maxon for a minute longer; her eyes widened like she had just figured out the cure for cancer as she said, "Kind of like you."
Maxon narrowed his eyes with a crooked smirk on his face. "Like me?"
"Yeah. You seemed a little annoying when we first met, but now that I'm talking to you, you're much more likable than before." Eliza chuckled, referring to the morning after they slept together. It was indeed awkward, and Maxon did seem like a crazy psychopath, getting on his knees when she rejected him.
"Wow." Maxon scoffed playfully. "So I'm black coffee?"
"Metaphorically, yeah."
"Your ability to compliment me and insult me at the same time is laudable." Maxon picked up a knife and a fork, ready to dig into his breakfast.
"It's a hereditary gift." Eliza chuckled but frowned just a tad bit as she spoke again, "Well, not hereditary, more like a family heirloom if I may say? Got it from my stepdad."
Maxon gaped at her in astonishment for an interval of good twenty seconds. He did not know that Darius Knight was her stepdad. If not for Eliza, he would've never found out. It wasn't mentioned in the files Kimberly brought either. So whatever reaction was playing on his face was a one hundred percent genuine and not feigned.
After recovering from the startling information, he shook his head as he dismissed his incredulity. He wanted to inquire further, but he took a step back. It wasn't his place; he barely knew her. And Maxon didn't want to scare her off with another personal question.
"So, what do you do?" Anika refilled Eliza's mug, and she didn't spare another second before savoring the hot and bitter drink.
"I'm a business major. Final year. What about you?"
"Computer Science. Final year." Eliza placed the milky white mug on the wooden table.
"Oh." Maxon merely nodded, not knowing how else to respond but decided to voice his opinions nonetheless. "No offense, but I always thought computer engineers were often frustrated and.. boring."
"No, you're right. We are frustrated and boring, but I dress up like a giant cat and fight crime at night." Eliza pursed her lips, suppressing a wide grin.
Maxon's blue eyes settled on hers, filled with delight. He chewed the bacon and swallowed it as he spoke, "Interesting, now did you decide cat and have the costume custom made, or did you find the costume in a store and said okay cat."
"Are you mocking cat woman?" Eliza raised an eyebrow.
"Sorry, sorry." Maxon chuckled, gulping down the rest of his food.
Their conversation was littered with smiles, real communication, not the words. It told them that there lay something unspoken. It was as evident as the morning sun, as natural as the grass, but it was also as visible as the wind. They both could feel it. This familiar feeling flowed through them as the conversation progressed.
The rest of the conversation flowed smoothly, like melted butter. Maxon found himself chuckling and smiling like an idiot all through their variety of topics. The idea that this would be the worst few months of his life was soon turning into a fallacy. Deep in his heart, Maxon knew that Eliza was extremely fun to be around.
He was growing a particular fondness towards her.
She was bubbly, smart, and immensely gorgeous. Maxon noticed how she bobbed her head in a backward direction every time she chuckled and how she tucked the loose tendrils of her hair behind her ear every time she felt uncomfortable.
"So, I ran." Eliza beamed with pride as the corners of her lips tugged upwards, almost in a satisfactory grin.
"You ran?"
"What else could I do?"
"I don't know, maybe talk her out of it?" Maxon tilted his head, almost on the verge of laughing with her.
"Maxon, if horror movies have taught me anything, it's; run like your life is on the fucking line if you find yourself in uncomfortable, scary situations."
Maxon's eyes widened with mirth at the easy flow of curses from Eliza's mouth. He didn't find it repulsive; rather, he found it attractive. Very attractive.
"That was not a scary situation, Eliza." Maxon chuckled as he tore a piece of his omelet.
"The next time some weird aunty from your stepdad's side of family tries to set you up with her son, then we'll talk." Eliza rolled her eyes as she took another bite of Maxon's omelet. He didn't mind her eating his food. Usually, he did, but with Eliza, it just seemed to be expected. Like it was their own way of conversing.
Maxon spread the avocado over his toast and sprinkled tomato on top of it as if it were cake decorations. There was a joy in how he did it, how he immersed himself in food and ate like he'd been starved for centuries. Eliza noticed it by the subtle smile that played across his face with his gentle gaze that settled on his food before he devoured it. Then he brought it closer to his lips, taking a large bite as he closed his eyes momentarily, savoring the taste.
"Cute," Eliza muttered involuntarily.
"What?" Maxon looked over, mouth full
of avocado toast. He hadn't noticed.
"Nothing." Eliza feigned cough as she took another bite of his omelet, face hot and red with a pinkish blush spreading across her face.
After a few minutes of easy-flowing conversation, Maxon had given in and complied to bet of tasting black coffee. Eliza was giggling like a teenager, and her laugh was the prettiest he'd ever heard. So was her smile, and so were her eyes. He couldn't stop himself from gazing at her.
"Come on!" Eliza probed. "You made a bet! Now try it."
"I'm debating whether your Mercedes is worth nausea." Maxon scratched the back of his head, all the while cursing himself for agreeing to it. He hadn't even realized when or how he had complied with it; that was how smoothly the conversation was flowing.
"It's the latest version. Matte black. One of a kind." Eliza teased in attempts to tempt him; Maxon shut his eyes tightly before gripping the warm mug of black coffee.
He took a deep breath as a sharp, bitter aroma lingered around his nostrils. He winced, cursing himself over and over again. But when he opened his eyes back up, he saw Eliza peering at him expectantly.
She steadied her chin on her palm as she watched Maxon intently. He narrowed his eyes, lingering on Eliza's for a few moments as he exhaled a deep breath.
"Bottoms up," Eliza smirked, stirring her mug of black coffee.
"Bottoms up." Maxon swallowed a gulp of angst as he downed the small portion of black coffee. A fleeting expression on his face showed malcontent, yet just as he gulped the liquid, he was smiling broadly once more. He glanced down at the mug, thick, ceramic, cold to touch, but the warmth of the coffee radiating off the surface.
To his surprise, he neither felt nauseous, nor did he throw up. The moment the liquid slid down his throat and settled into his stomach, he bit his lip.
He had lost the bet.
Eliza was still gazing at him, her fingers holding a metallic spoon as she continued stirring her cup of coffee. It looked like she had already anticipated the outcome of this challenge.
"So..?" She cooed with mirth before taking a massive swig from her beverage.
"It's-" Maxon paused, savoring the after taste. "Not bad."
Eliza chuckled. "Your eyes are saying a lot more than just not bad."
"Alright, fine. I like it." Maxon threw his arms up in the air, accepting defeat. Well, technically, this defeat had gotten him a one of a kind Mercedes that Eliza owned.
Eliza arched her eyebrow like she expected more. She didn't say anything, but the subtle smirk that played across her lips was enough of a message for Maxon to apprehend the gesture.
"I love it, okay?" Maxon huffed with a hint of joviality in his voice as he gulped Eliza's black coffee. "Surprisingly, it's not as bitter as I thought it would be."
Eliza only grinned knowingly before yanking Maxon's plate of breakfast to her side of the table. She took a bite out of his gourmet sandwich without further ado before returning the plate to Maxon.
Her eyebrows rose for just a quick moment before she swiped the key from her purse and slid it across the table towards Maxon. He grabbed it as he gaped at her with consternation. He did not think that Eliza would give up her brand new Mercedes for a petty bet over a cup of black coffee.
"What's this?" He asked dumbfoundedly.
"That's a car key," Eliza said in a noncommittal tone.
"No, I know what this is. I'm just asking why are you giving it to me?"
"A promise is a promise." She smiled, but there was something hidden behind that mask of happiness, something Maxon couldn't yet see.
"Wait- you're giving up your car?"
"I don't break promises." At that moment, she looked him dead in the eye for a few seconds. Maxon could swear he saw an empty void in those beautiful orbs before she masqueraded those hollow feelings with a blanket of amiability. She leered again as if she hadn't just turned cold for a minute like she hadn't lost the warmth in her eyes for just a few fleeting seconds.
The word promise seemed to mean more to her than Maxon anticipated.
Wiping the crumbs off on a napkin, she glanced the watch on her wrist as she grabbed her purse before standing up.
"I should get going." The corners of her eyes crinkled as she beamed at Maxon. And something about the shine in her eyes caused Maxon's stomach to twists into knots. Again.
"Where are you going?" Maxon asked, but he knew the answer to that. The nursing home.
"I-" Eliza looked at him, her blue eyes fixated on Maxon's like she had an internal debate with herself. Finally, she sighed as she looked back down on the half-eaten gourmet breakfast. "The nursing home."
"Here," Maxon forwarded Eliza's car keys as he held them in his palm, waiting for her to grab it.
"I gave that car to you." She tilted her head just a tad bit in confusion.
"How're you going to get there without a car? Take this, and you can return it to me later."
"I'll walk. I'm extremely late; I have to go. See you later." Eliza smiled as she began heading for the door briskly. The bell at the top of the door rattled as she exited. Before wasting anything minute, Maxon grabbed his leather jacket off the back of his chair and followed Eliza.
Anika grunted as she uttered something incoherently, but Maxon didn't stick around long to hear that. He was already out the door looking for Eliza. And there she was, walking along the sidewalk with AirPods plugged in her ear as she walked at a moderately quicker pace. Maxon hurried over, tapping her shoulder as she turned around.
"Atleast, let me drive you." Maxon panted as he clutched his knees, gasping.
"Alright." Eliza chuckled as they both headed over to Maxon's car, which was parked just a few blocks down the road.
Yanking the door open, they both took a seat. Eliza, in the passenger seat and Maxon in the driver's seat. He laid back, head resting on the cold leather of the car as he turned the ignition on. The Corvette revved on like the roar of a tiger before he zoomed out of the parking lot and was on the highway.
As the car sped up, a peaceful silence lingered within. Maxon peeked a few sneaky glances in the passenger seat only to find Eliza gazing out the window. As the journey commenced, the sunlight roused more colors from the sleepy monochrome, and, though the road had the greyish look of the night, the sky was already more bluish than dark.
"If you don't mind," Maxon began, as his blue eyes settled onto Eliza. She looked back at him, waiting for him to continue. "Can I ask you something?"
Eliza had noticed that there was something in the way Maxon talked that gave him away; it was perhaps the keenness to seek information. She had noticed that Maxon felt uncomfortable or awkward every time he scratched the back of his neck or bit on his fingernails.
She found his weird habits adorable. And that was what scared her the most. Whatever little conversation they had over breakfast made her want to get to know this boy better, and she knew better than to do that. She didn't do relationships, but this beautiful blue-eyed boy made her question all her principles.
"Sure."
"Why do you volunteer at the nursing home?"
"Because-" To describe her facial expressions would be like describing a blank sheet of paper. Suddenly, she'd lost all color to it, and Maxon knew that he had yet again pried into her personal space, asked something he shouldn't have. But before he could cover up with something, she said, "Because I know what it's like to be thrown away, like your life means nothing, like you mean nothing. To be unloved and unwanted. And I don't ever want those people to feel what I once did."
Unloved, Unwanted. Maxon knew the meaning of that better than most. At that moment, when he looked in her eyes and saw a broken soul staring back at him, he knew that they were more alike than opposite.
He knew that impaired expression all too well; he saw it every day in the mirror.
Broken and damaged.