Beautiful Broken Mess(41)

When I reach for the trash, I notice that the cup is still warm, too warm to have been sitting here since the previous class. I set it back down and see my name written in black marker on the side in all capital letters. I step away from the desk and point at the cup as if it insulted me.

“Lane… it has my name on it. What does that mean?”

He leans over my shoulder and studies the cup for a couple of seconds. I feel him shrug his shoulders and then he says, “Usually that means it’s for you.” I can hear the amusement in his voice.

I sit down in my seat and study what’s in front of me. Who did this? A quick scan of the classroom proves what I already knew; I don’t know anyone in here. So how could someone have left this for me on my desk?

“It won’t bite you, just drink it,” Lane whispers from his spot directly behind me.

I pick it up and recognize the name of the coffee house that’s printed in red ink on the side. I haven’t tried that one out yet, although it’s not far from my house. Hoping for more clues, I spin the cup around and then see extra script on the back.

I’m so sorry.

I’ll make it up to you, I swear.

Please, don’t write me off just yet.



I already know what the contents of the cup will be before I place it to my lips and swallow the warm, spicy mixture. A chai tea latte. The delicious drink makes me smile and laugh to myself at his gesture. I still don’t have any idea how he knew what class I had today or even that I attend this school, but right now I’m grateful for the gift because this will be my saving grace for the next hour.

I lift the brown paper bakery bag next and unroll the folded top to peek inside. Lying on top is another note.



It’s my fault you didn’t get to eat before you left.

I’ll make that up to you as well.

Go to dinner with me tonight?



He wrote down his phone number at the bottom, and looking at the familiar area code, I’m almost certain that this is the same number he had four years ago. I still have that number programmed in my phone from the day he wrote it down on a piece of notebook paper for me. I never had the guts to use it before.

Lane leans over my shoulder again, examining my goods. “Damn, he could have at least gotten me something. Douchebag.” I elbow him back to his spot so I can enjoy this moment, even though I know he’s just trying to have a good time with me.

When our instructor enters the room and begins the lecture immediately, I zone out, thinking about Jace. He’s asking for a shot. At least, I think that’s what he’s asking for. Or maybe he’s just curious how the only story he’s ever known could be any different. I would always regret it though if I didn’t hear him out. Before I can change my mind, I pull out my phone and send a text to Jace.#p#分页标题#e#



I have to work tonight - A



Within seconds, my phone vibrates and his reply is displayed across my screen.



Sunday for lunch then. Please? I’ll pick you up.



Sunday lunch? That doesn’t sound like a date time. That sounds like an I’m-curious-about-your-story-but-nothing-else time. Not that I would have been able to do Saturday anyway, because I finally relented to Em’s endless pursuit to go to the beach party tomorrow. Thankfully, Lane is going to tag along with me. I can’t help but wonder if Jace has a date tomorrow night, and that’s why he suggested Sunday. Forget it, Audrey, just get Sunday over with. I quickly text back that I will meet him and then put my phone away for the remainder of the class.



Tonight is my last night of training with Em. It’s been a lot of fun and this place will be kind of boring on the nights I have to work without her. She definitely keeps it interesting. Since I never really needed any training in the first place, we’ve been able to talk during our shifts, and I’ve slowly been telling her everything. Tonight, I finally just spit it all out. I told her all that’s happened between Jace and me, starting from the moment I met him on the sidewalk in Texas, all the way up to this morning.

Her silent, stunned face has me cringing, so I turn to put away the last of the glasses. The bar is finally empty and Mark is sweeping under the pool tables, leaving Em and I to get everything squared away for tomorrow’s shift. After minutes pass, I glance back her way and see that she still hasn’t moved from her spot. She’s staring off into space, as if she’s just been given some life-threatening news.

“All of that could not have happened to one person,” she finally says.

“I wish I could say I made it up.”

In a kind-hearted tone, she says, “You weren’t lying when you said you’re a mess.” She pouts her lip out in a sad expression. “But I think you’re just a victim of circumstance.”