Chapter Text
“I don’t know what to do-o-o.” Thomas moaned, fingers wrapped around the styrofoam cup of latte he’d ordered for reasons utterly beyond him.
Teresa, the ends of her hair dripping spots of wetness onto her blouse, snorted. “It’s hardly an emergency, Tom. God, you had me freaked for a second, there.”
Thomas scowled across the table at his best friend since the time they’d painted each other’s faces with chocolate. “It is an emergency.”
“I nearly left the house without underwear on! That’s how stressed you made me — all for some girl you’ve suddenly realised you’ve got a crush on!”
Still cradling the latte he didn’t honestly want to drink, Thomas sighed. How could he explain that it wasn’t just another crush? That the sight of Brenda, smiling at him over the counter as she took his order, made his heart do this flippety-flop thing in his chest? That the only reason he was a dedicated coffee-drinker (or coffee-orderer, anyway) was because doing so offered him a chance to talk to the girl of his dreams?
“Don’t sigh like an old maid.” Teresa crossed her arms over her chest, surreptitiously checking the face of her watch. “We’ve still got some time before our lectures so you can tell me what’s got you so het up.”
Thomas leant back in his seat, a dreamy sort of smile on his face. “I think I’m in love, T. I think it’s real this time.”
Cue another snort from the girl sitting opposite him. “You always think you’re in love, Tom. Whenever you meet a new girl who catches your fancy, you always wonder if she’s the One. You-”
“Not all the time!”
“Yes, all the time.” Teresa frowned, sternly. “You forget who you’re talking to. I could construct an entire degree programme on the way your brain works.”
That wasn’t too far from the truth, and Thomas had to admit she had a point. But it felt different this time. And, besides, this time there was an obstacle.
“Your face did that thing again.” Teresa leant forward to run her hand through his hair. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Thomas actively felt his mouth sour. “She’s got a boyfriend.”
God, even saying that out loud was like swallowing a vial full of nasty medicine that settled heavily in his stomach.
“Oh.” Teresa’s eyes softened. “That’s harsh.” A droplet of water ran down a strand of hair and fell onto the table.
Unconsciously, Thomas brushed it away with the side of his thumb. “Harsh? Nah — try earth-shatteringly terrible. Catastrophically horrible. A disaster of global proportions.”
“Hey.” She slapped him lightly on his extended hand. “Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling you something.”
He couldn’t help the dramatical eye-roll he shot in her direction. “Like what? That I need to be single for the rest of my life?”
“No, stupid.” God bless Teresa for having the patience to put up with his over-dramatic arse. “I meant that maybe now’s the time to actually make some kind of effort in love."
“You mean like buying her flowers? What if her boyfriend notices?”
Teresa massaged her temples. “Forget about what’s-her-name for a second, ok? All I meant was that maybe it’s time for you to realise that love — real love — takes a little more effort than willing someone to fall in love with you, then forgetting all about them a couple of weeks later.”
Thomas’ mouth curved into a smile. “Are you telling me you think I’m flighty?” For some reason, this made him want to laugh.
“No.” Teresa deadpanned. “I know you’re flighty. Which is why I don’t think you should try to make a move on this girl-”
“Her name’s Brenda.”
“Doesn’t matter. She’s obviously happy with her boyfriend and-”
“Not really.” Thomas’ cheeks heated up at the memory of the phone conversation that he wasn’t sure he should’ve overheard. “They fight a lot.”
It was Teresa’s turn to sigh. “I don’t want to know how you know that, Tom, but she’d better have told you that.”
Thomas grinned sheepishly.
“You snoop.” She swatted him.
“It wasn’t my fault.” He fended her off. “I was planning on asking her out when her shift ended, but she was already on the phone. I didn’t mean to overhear her phone convo, it just sort of…happened.”
“Sure.” Teresa checked her watch again. “Look, it’s time for Phonology, so you need to get your butt in gear.” She nodded at his coffee cup.
Oh, yeah. No food or beverages allowed in the hall.
Thomas grimaced as he downed his now-ice-cold latte. It tasted even worse cold than it did boiling hot.
Teresa’s mouth cocked into an amused smirk. “You’re a twit, and I hope you know that.”
“I do now.” Thomas aimed his empty cup at one of the garbage bins in the mess area. Like most things in his life, his throwing arm was utterly useless. It landed several metres away from its intended target and rolled under a table occupied by some rather bizarre-looking goths.
“I revise my opinion of you.” Teresa muttered. “You know you’re a twit and you’re revelling in the feeling.”
Thomas stuck his tongue out at her and hitched his backpack. “Ok, time for a mandatory sleep session.” It was common knowledge that Thomas was on the abysmal end of the spectrum of studiousness.
Teresa’s expression turned serious again. “We’re going to continue this discussion, though, aren’t we, Tom?”
“Sure.” Thomas shrugged, at first not at all enamoured with the idea. Then a sudden thought came to him. “How about at the Glade?” Surely if Teresa met Brenda, and saw the easy friendship that had built up between them, she’d think they were a good fit? Or, at least, a better fit than Brenda and the guy she’d had an argument with for forgetting their anniversary?
“Ok.” There was a trace of hesitation in Teresa’s voice, but Thomas could tell that she had bitten into a chunk of curiousness as well. She wanted to meet the girl her best friend was head over heels with.
Something was bound to happen. Thomas could feel it in his gut. Teresa was excellent at relationships — she and Minho had been together for close on four years. Maybe she’d help Thomas overcome the obstacle of Atrocious Boyfriend.
There was a smile on Thomas’ face as he headed into his Phonology lecture.
“Nice.” Teresa’s eyes took in the minimalistic chic that the Glade had in spades. “How have I never been here before?”
“Uhh…because you and Minho act like a boring old couple in their sixties?”
That earned Thomas a swat with Teresa’s bulky book-bag. Not the nicest of sensations.
“Seat by the window? That ok?” Teresa made for one of the seats at the far corner of the coffeeshop — one perfect for observing people.
Thomas had to hand it to her, she was usually pretty smart. This was not one of those times.
“Here.” He took her hand, propelling her to his usual seat — barely a stone’s throw from the counter.
“Damn.” Teresa smiled wryly. “Subtlety isn’t your strong point, is it?”
He ignored her. “What’re you having?”
“A cappuccino.” She twisted in her seat, to get a better look at the desserts in the display case. “You can get me one of those chocolate muffins, too.” She passed some cash across to him. “Is she here?”
“Am I hyperventilating?”
Teresa frowned at him. “No.”
“There’s your answer.” Thomas went up to the counter and ordered Teresa’s cappuccino and muffin, strategically not ordering anything for himself. Yes, he was desperate enough to hold off until Brenda showed up.
Teresa’s mouth cocked when she realised this. “You’re about as smooth as a cat covered in bath salts. Hope you know that."
“Hope you know that I’ve no idea what that means.”
The little bell that signalled a customer arriving tinkled. Thomas tried to refrain from physically twisting around in his seat to check if it was Brenda.
“It’s not.” Teresa was watching him, a look of dry amusement in her eyes. “It’s a guy.”
Thomas did a poor job of hiding his disappointment. Where was Brenda? He’d memorised her shifts, little stalker that he was, so he knew she was late for her afternoon shift.
Even more disappointment pooled in his belly. Suppose she wasn’t coming in today? Suppose she’d quit? Suppose — God forbid — something awful had happened to her?
“Hey.” Teresa nudged him. “You’re so tense it might start snowing in here.”
Thomas massaged his temples. “Your jokes are terrible, T.”
“That last one almost made you smile.”
“Because it was so stupid.”
The little bell tinkled again, but it had been preceded momentarily by the sound of raised voices.
“…the most useless, most selfish, arrogant…”
“…going through some things, too — hope you’d understand…”
Thomas didn’t need to turn around to identify one of the new arrivals as Brenda, but he turned around anyway.
It was like a physical ache — the need to see her. But he’d never seen her like this.
Her eyes flashed, there was colour in her cheeks, her hands moved like agitated reeds blown by tempestuous gusts of wind.
She was breathtaking.
“I take it that’s Brenda?” Teresa said, around her muffin.
Thomas didn’t have the strength to nod.
“Not to be an iffy friend, but her boyfriend’s pretty cute.”
The word hit Thomas like a shot. Boyfriend? Of course, this was her boyfriend.
Feeling a sick feeling building in his stomach, Thomas forced himself to look at the guy.
He’d been imagining a pasty-faced, attractive-in-an-anaemic-fashion sort of boy, decked out in the requisite university-student garb of a hoodie and faded jeans. It was the only thing that help bolster his self-esteem.
Brenda’s boyfriend was nothing like the boy he’d pictured.
Thomas felt himself get slightly light-headed. He was fully aware of the fact that he was staring like a weirdo with major personal space issues, but he found himself completely unfazed.
God, it was getting hard to breathe.
“What’re you looking at?”
Brenda’s boyfriend — that sounded so wrong — frowned in his direction. It wasn’t a nasty glance, or a nasty tone of voice, just a mind-your-own-business sort of thing.
It was perfectly valid — Thomas had no reason to be this interested in a person he’d never met until about a minute ago.
Teresa kicked him under the table. That jarred him enough to return him to the land of the sane. And realise that he’d been about to stand up.
“Oh, God.” He sat back down and massaged his temples for the second time that afternoon.
The decibel level of the spat had dramatically decreased. Boyfriend and girlfriend sat at one of the corner tables, deep in a flurry of discussion.
“What’s going on?” Teresa was giving him a very worried look. “Do you know that guy? For a second there I thought you were about to get up and make a complete fool of yourself.”
“I think I have.”
“What?” Her voice was sharp with nerves.
“I’ve made a fool of myself in front of someone I like.”
“Oh.” Teresa’s shoulders relaxed. “No — I don’t think so. Brenda almost looked impressed when you-”
“I don’t care!”
His best friend’s face scrunched up into a half-frown. “You don’t care about the fact you might have impressed the girl you’ve been squawking about for three days now? The girl you’ve got a crush on?”
“I don’t have a crush on her!”
Teresa exhaled loudly. “Thomas, for the last time, you can’t fall in love with someone you-”
“I think I just did."
Teresa stuffed a chunk of muffin in her mouth.
“This is so awkward.” That should’ve been Thomas’ middle name. Thomas Awkward Edison. Perfect.
“True.” Teresa replied, spraying muffin crumbs on the table. “I felt it and I wasn’t even-”
“No — I mean this.” It suddenly became imperative that he made his point. “This situation. It’s fallen off a cliff, y’know. I don’t…know what to think right now.”
She gave him a peculiar glance. “Simple. You forget about her and take a dip into the endless pool of eligible dates that actually are single.”
“Forget about her?” God, he’d just forgotten about her. He’d forgotten about her in the best and worst way possible. It terrified him.
“Tom.” Teresa squeezed his hand. “I’m getting a little worried here. Can you stop acting like you’ve completely lost your marbles and tell me what’s going on in that abandoned attic up there that you call a brain? Because, seriously, I’m worried.”
“I think,” said Thomas, in all seriousness, “I’ve got a crush on Brenda’s boyfriend.”
Teresa’s face was absolutely priceless.
It took five minutes of tapping her cheek lightly to bring her back down to earth. And even then, she looked like the subject of a mad scientist’s experiment.
“Tom, please tell me you’re joking.”
“I need some coffee.” After days of pretending to like the horrible brown stuff, Thomas realised that he was actually somewhat dependant on it to think now.
“Tom-”
“Be right back.”
Brenda was back where she belonged — behind the counter. But that wasn’t why the air suddenly seemed to fizzle out of his lungs.
He was there, too. Somehow soft and elegant at the same time, he leant against the counter, awaiting his coffee.
Noticing Thomas hovering behind him with the air of a devotee in the presence of some god, he moved.
“Umm, sorry about that.” His accent was an educated southern variety that just screamed English gentleman. “Snapping at you, I mean. It was awfully rude of me.”
“Nah — it’s all good.” Thomas felt an uncouth boor. It wasn’t just the accent — it was the entire package.
He managed to make jeans and a sweater seem like some kind of fashion ideal. They looked ridiculously good on him.
Thomas wanted to laugh. Or cry. His brain was so confused.
“Hey, Tom.” Brenda’s smile was slightly watery. Maybe she’d sat down and had a good cry. Maybe her smile just wasn’t the brilliant thing he’d been picturing in his mind. “What can I get you?”
He watched her slide an espresso across the counter towards her, urgh, boyfriend.
His muddled brain decided that that made sense. “An espresso, please.”
If she was shocked, she didn’t show it.
He left, to perch on the edge of the seat he’d vacated to order his drink.
Thomas didn’t realise that he’d been staring until a little cup of espresso landed by his elbow.
“Here.” Brenda withdrew her hand. “That’ll be $1.70.”
Thomas fumbled with his change. There was a yearning to say something, even though the only unscrambled part of his brain was screaming at him to shut up. “So…that’s the boyfriend?”
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
“Yep.” Brenda didn’t seem to want to go into the specifics.
Thomas, being Thomas, didn’t heed the very obvious wall. “He’s…nice. Very good looking.” Oh, shut up!
Her mouth tightened. “Looks aren’t everything.” She passed thirty cents his way.
“Bit odd, isn’t it,” Thomas’ face reddened, “American girl, British boy? Bit funny.” He forced a chuckle; there was nothing remotely funny coming out of his mouth. He had no idea why he hadn’t had his tongue pulled out before this very moment.
“Funny?” Brenda’s voice was clearly going for disinterested, though it hit upset by mistake. “I don’t think so.” She turned away. “Enjoy your drink.”
It was as obvious as a slap in the face: get lost.
Thomas sunk back into his seat feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.
The look on Teresa’s face confirmed that he was, in fact, the world’s biggest idiot.
“What was that about?” She’d finished her muffin and there was nothing to distract her from the problem at hand — the problem of Thomas. “Eavesdropping as hard as I was, it sounded like you were chatting her up. But, apparently, you don’t like her anymore. Do you know what you want, Tom?”
“I want…”
“Sheesh.” Teresa sat back in her seat. “This would be funny if you weren’t my best friend. Anyway,” she shifted in her seat, “don’t look now, but I don’t think Brenda’s boyfriend appreciated your attempts to chat her up.”
“I wasn’t chatting her up!”
“Tell that to him.” She nodded in his direction.
Somewhere in the deep reaches of Thomas’ brain, this seemed like an appropriate idea. “Alright."
Teresa looked absolutely horrified as he got to his feet. “That…that was a rhetorical statement. Come back!”
But Thomas sidestepped her grabbing arms.
The irritated look on the Brit’s face got more pronounced the closer Thomas got.
Trying to diffuse the situation, Thomas went in for a snappy greeting, but the other boy wasn’t having any of it.
“Were you chatting up my bird?” His brows were drawn into a heavy frown.
“Er, no.”
“What’s the hesitation for?”
“I, er.” Thomas was as tongue-tied as a nine-year-old girl and it felt terrible. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” The boy crossed his arms over his chest. Maybe it was meant to look menacing — the only word that drifted through Thomas’ consciousness was ‘adorable’. Which is probably not what the boy was aiming for.
Not getting a reply, the Brit raked an irritated hand through his fluffy hair. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“Drinking coffee.”
“Brilliant, Einstein, I’d never have guessed.” Strands of fluffy hair fell across one brow. “But what exactly are you doing here — and by here I mean at my bloody table?”
“Er…” It was sorely tempting to touch those strands of hair, just to see if they were as soft as they looked. But that was horrible idea. Even Thomas’ muddled brain knew that. “I, er, just wanted to Instagram your espresso."
The Brit’s eyebrows met, almost as if in confusion as to whether they wanted to be annoyed or baffled. “You wanted to Instagram my espresso?” He spoke slowly, as if to give Thomas ample opportunities to hear how ludicrous that sounded. “You have your own espresso.”
“Yes, but you’re more attractive than I am.” Thomas babbled. “Can’t have an ugly espresso model.”
“I’m flattered.” The Brit sounded anything but. “Yet I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your wonderful offer. I’m sure you understand why.” His gaze drifted back towards the magazine Thomas realised he’d been reading.
It was a subtle indication for Thomas to bugger off.
And, making a smart decision for once, Thomas decided to take the preferred hint — even though he found a fiery sense of determination pooling in his belly for this not to be their last interaction.
No — that soft, fluffy hair was practically calling his name.
Seeing the look on his face, Teresa could read the signs. “You’ve fallen for him, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” Thomas sighed. He liked to think it was a gusty, lovesick sigh, but he probably sounded like a pneumonia patient.
“Oh God.” Teresa cradled her head in her hands. “This is going to end so badly.”