Thus with a Kiss

Chapter five

Paige

Although I do have a somewhat unhealthy penchant for coffee, having two within the space of a few hours is almost overkill, even for me. That being said, there’s no way I could turn Lawrence down without massively regretting it later, so I guess I’ll just have to roll with it.

I trail behind Lawrence, feeling too awkward to walk by his side. It feels almost like being a tourist following a tour guide to the next exciting location. God only knows I’m no tourist- the furthest place I’ve travelled in recent years is to uni, a solid hour train journey there and back, give or take half an hour, and that was it. So you could say this interaction with Lawrence was potentially the highlight of my week, month, year. Lawrence wasn’t kidding when he said that the coffee shop was just around the corner: we got there in under 5 minutes.

Opening the door for me, Lawrence headed inside, finding a table at the back, secluded from prying eyes. The table was a little round thing, standing between a wooden chair and a leather-lined sofa pushed back against the wall. Above the sofa there’s a small painting of wild flowers, hanging slightly off centre. The perfectionist in me is two seconds away from standing on the sofa and fixing it, but to save myself embarrassment later, I decide to just sit on the chair opposite Lawrence and ignore it. As I sit down, I look over at Lawrence who has the drinks menu in his hand. As if sensing my gaze, he looks up, eyes locking with mine. And I don’t know what it is- desire, heartache, longing, or something else entirely- but something rushes through my veins as I stare into his eyes. He smiles at me, and god if it isn’t just the most heart-stopping thing in all the world.

‘So, any ideas what you fancy?’, Lawrence asks. My immediate reaction, the reaction fuelled by lust and hormones almost replies with ‘you’, but I manage to quell that response before I make a complete idiot of myself.

‘Probably just my normal’.

‘And that would be?’, Lawrence prompts.

‘Ohh’, I stumble, ‘right you wouldn’t know what it is’, I laugh. ‘My normal is just a caramel latte, that’s my favourite’.

Standing up Lawrence gives me and nod. ‘Right, I’ll just go and put that order in, along with a black coffee’.

I give him a quick smile whilst inwardly cringing at his choice of coffee. Black coffee was like drinking tar, and even if there is something fitting about the way his eyes match the depth of the dark colour, drinking coffee without milk, sugar, or syrup, is just something that I will never be able to accept. I take this time to look around the rest of the place, surveying the people, the chairs, the staff, and whatever other oddities and intrigues my eyes glance upon. Despite this place being so close to campus, I can’t say I’ve ever noticed it before. I guess I’m more of a chain-coffee drinker- anything with a big name like ‘Costa’ or ‘Café Nero’ and my heart just drags me in that direction. This place is kind of nice though, in a small, unassuming way. Lawrence stands at the counter which is located to the left of the door; the rest of the shop is pretty much open space, taken up by mis-matched wooden chairs, and well-loved sofas pressed against the stone walls. I glance back at Lawrence, my gaze automatically drawn to him. I can’t explain it but something about him feels familiar or safe. And I know I probably sound crazy or delusional, but I just know in my bones that I was meant to know him; something deep down tells me that there’s a reason behind my meeting him, I guess I just need to wait and see what exactly that reason is.

Since I don’t want Lawrence to catch me staring, I quickly turn around as he heads back to our table.

‘There you go’, he smiles at me.

‘Thanks, smells amazing. How much do I owe?’, I ask, deciding to go in for the kill rather than tentatively trying to toe around the subject.

‘Nothing at all, my treat’.

‘Oh no Lawrence, you don’t have to-‘

‘Please’, Lawrence interrupts, ‘I want to. Also you may call me Law if you wish, I know Lawrence can sometimes be a bit of a mouthful’. Law, I roll the name over my tongue. There’s something about that name, just like there’s something about him. I like it.

‘Well okay then, Law, thank you for the coffee’, I grin at him. Taking a sip of my drink, I inwardly sigh at how satisfying it is. I must admit, it’s a little stronger than I’m used to, but the generous amount of caramel syrup sets off the bitterness completely. Man will I be coming back here the next time I’m on campus.

‘So Paige, tell me something about yourself’, Lawrence says, startling me out of my coffee-induced day dream. What could I tell him other than I was pretty plain, pretty simple? That my life started and ended with my head on a pillow with very little in between. That I had this great yearning inside of me for something more, something profound, but I feared I’d never find it because I was too anxious or shy to truly allow myself to live, to breathe, to just be.

No.

I couldn’t tell him anything like that, not only because he was a stranger, but because I would never share those thoughts with anyone. They were far too personal. The closest I ever come to sharing those thoughts came in the form of my tears hitting the pillow every night before bed.

No. I just needed to be normal, to say something normal.

‘Umm, you’ve put me on the spot there I must admit’, I laugh, trying to make light of a question he has no idea has so completely thrown me. ‘I go to the uni just down the road’.

‘Oh that’s cool, what do you study?’

‘Biology, I like learning about the processes and that you know?’. And he nods as though he really does know. ‘But the thing is most people fall into categories when it comes to learning- maths or English. I’ve always thought that biology kind of fell in the middle. Although it’s a lot like English in terms of long wordy things you have to try and get your head around, the basic function of biology is physical. It makes up how we breathe, eat, grow. And that kind of makes it like maths- or at least to me it does’. Lawrence looks at me as though I’ve completely lost it, and I guess he would be right. I mean, who really cares about how I see biology in relation to English and maths? No one. My cheeks start to burn with embarrassment and I can tell he’s noticed because the corners of his lips turn up in a small, not-so-discreet smile.

‘Umm, I’m just going to nip to the toilet’, I squirm, quickly pushing my seat back and heading down the corridor that says toilets. Once inside the cubicle, I lock the door, pressing my forehead against what I hope is a least a semi-clean surface. My heart feels like its beating tenfold, my knees feel weak, and I feel light-headed and nauseous all at once. Am I having another panic attack? Because I feel like I’m about to die, and that’s not normal, not for a healthy youth like myself.

What I’ve never really told anyone is that sometimes I get anxiety- like really bad anxiety where I can’t breathe, and the walls begin to press in. And the most awful thing about it is that it’s unpredictable and sneaks up whenever I least expect it. Like now, when I’m with Lawrence, and just trying to enjoy my life. And it’s terrible you know, because there really isn’t anything I can do to stop it, not completely, and no matter how well things seem to be going, it always comes back around to remind that on a fundamental level, I’m really not okay.

I breathe in, counting to four, then hold my breath for three seconds. Then I let it back out, counting to four, and do the whole thing five more times. Like I said, there’s nothing I can do to stop it, but I have found a few ways of making it a bit more manageable at least.

My hands are still shaking by the time I get it together. I look at myself in the mirror and my face is flushed and my eyes watery- Lawrence is going to know something is up the minute I step back out there. Maybe I should just try and sneak out the back? It’s not polite and is not something I would normally do, but sometimes these things have to be done. I grab the door handle, ready to find the back entrance, when I stumble into Lawrence, his face torn up in a frown, worry etching his beautiful features.

This cannot be happening.