"Lindsay!" Come here for a moment," my mother's voice jolts me out of my trance as I lie on the couch, aimlessly gliding through social media.
"What's the matter, Mom?" I ask, without much enthusiasm, as I enter the kitchen.
She's making breakfast, as usual, with the radio playing a soft melody in the background. Without stopping, he says:
"They just opened a new Starbucks a few blocks from here. Why don't you go check it out? You spend all day locked up.
My first instinct is to refuse. I'm not particularly a fan of Starbucks or coffee in general, but then I think I could take the opportunity to change my environment and move forward with something important: researching more about my future university. I had been procrastinating on that issue for days.
"Okay, I'll go for a while." Do you want me to bring you something? I ask as I take my backpack and put my laptop away.
"No, thank you, enjoy." He gives me a warm smile and returns to his task.
The new Starbucks isn't far away; I arrive on foot in less than ten minutes. The façade is modern, with large windows and a minimalist design. I walk inside and the smell of freshly brewed coffee immediately surrounds me. I order a latte and a croissant, then find a table by one of the windows, overlooking the street.
I pull out my laptop and turn it on. As I wait for it to load, I take a look at the place. There is a warm atmosphere, although it is not as crowded as I thought it would be. I guess many still don't know that they opened.
Once my coffee arrives, I start browsing the university's website. Photos of old buildings and smiling students flood the screen.
I look up for a moment, and then I see him. It's the guy from the sports store, Sack. I'm not sure he noticed me, but it strikes me that he's not alone. He goes with another boy, who seems to be talking animatedly. Sack, on the other hand, maintains his neutral, almost apathetic expression, but there is something about him that intrigues me.
I try to ignore it, I really try. However, my eyes seem to have a will of their own, disobeying every time I try to focus on my laptop screen. They end up returning, inevitably, to the apathetic boy who is now sitting with his friend in the other corner of the cafeteria.
"Why is he here?" I think, frustrated with myself for even caring. I shake my head, determined to refocus on the photographs of the university in front of me.
At that moment, he looks up out of sheer boredom... and our eyes meet. We were both frozen for a second, as if we were two statues in the middle of a duel of glances.
I try to disguise it, looking quickly down at my laptop, but in the process I spill some latte on the keyboard. "Great! Of course it had to happen right now!" I think, as I desperately search for a napkin.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that Sack is still watching. He doesn't make any moves to help, but there's something about his expression that baffles me. Is that a smile? Or am I just imagining things?
I try not to give it any more importance, cleaning up the mess awkwardly. I raise my head just as he looks back at me, and this time I hold his gaze for another second before quickly pushing it away, feeling strangely uncomfortable.
"This is ridiculous," I think, biting into a piece of croissant to calm my nerves. But I can't ignore one thing: there's something strangely funny about this interaction, though I don't understand why. I also can't help but smile a little.
From his desk, I'm pretty sure Sack does too. Or maybe it's my imagination. Who knows?
Coming out of there, as I try to regain concentration, I feel that something is missing. Oh right, my iron supplements. It's not like I love them, but they're necessary. I've had anemia for as long as I can remember, and while it's not the end of the world, it can be annoying. Sometimes I feel so tired that I think I might fall asleep in the middle of a conversation. Or worse, as if I were going to pass out as I walked three blocks in the sun. My mom always says to take it seriously, but to me, supplements are like that homework you hate but can't help but can't help — must-have and terribly boring.
I check my bag automatically. They are not there. "How strange," I think, as my mind tries to remember. Oh, no! They probably fell out when I pulled out my laptop. I sigh as I weigh whether I should worry or just resign myself to buying them again.