Page 34
Story: Tagging Bases
My phone buzzes on the table, dragging me from my thoughts.
Olivia
I’ll be there soon
Me
Around me, the coffee shop bustles with the usual mid-afternoon crowd. I’m seated at a small table by the window, my leg bouncing nervously as I wait. I take a sip of my coffee and frown. The caffeine only heightens my anxiety, sending my already racing heart into overdrive.
Breaking up with someone is never easy. To be honest, I’ve never done it. All the girlfriends I’ve ever had have broken up with me. Being on the receiving end of it sucks, but being the one to break someone else’s heart? God, kill me now.
Setting the mug down, I glance at my reflection in the window. I’m wearing a light blue polo shirt and jeans. I hoped to strike the perfect balance between casual and put together. But I’m not a fashion runway kind of guy, so who knows if I managed that.
I barely slept a wink last night, agonizing over the right words that would soften the blow and make her understand. But every script I’ve come up with sounds hollow and cliché.
There’s no easy way to do this. No magic phrase that can take away the hurt. All I can do is be honest, no matter how painful it might be for both of us. She deserves that much.
The weather has warmed up in a matter of days as spring slowly gives way to summer. Normally, I love this time of year, but today, the sunshine streaming through the window is oppressive. A spotlight shining directly on my guilt.
My gaze drifts around the coffee shop, taking in the exposedbrick walls and artsy light fixtures. It has a cozy, laid-back vibe that I find comforting. Charlie and I recently started coming here to study or hang out when we don’t have practice. And now we’re at the point that the baristas know us by name and order.
But nothing is as it should be today. The air is too warm, the chatter too loud. Every scrape of a chair or clink of a dish makes me flinch. I watch the door with a hawk-like intensity, my stomach clenching whenever it opens, bracing for Olivia’s arrival.
But beneath the nerves, there’s also a flicker of hope. A tiny ember that refuses to be extinguished, no matter how much culpability and uncertainty I heap upon it. As much as I don’t want to have this conversation with Olivia, I can’t help but be psyched at the thought of what comes after.
More time with Charlie, with Harrison.
I drain the rest of my coffee in one long gulp, ignoring the way it scalds my throat.Breathe, Daniel. Just breathe.
The bell over the door tinkles. My head snaps up.
Olivia breezes in as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. But I know she does. We’ve been together long enough for me to recognize the slightly pursed lips and the pinched skin at the corner of her eyes for what it is. Hurt.
Her movements are graceful and fluid despite the chunky combat boots she’s wearing as she walks over to me. A vintage floral dress hugs her curves. An oversized, faded, and frayed denim jacket hangs off her shoulders. Her long black hair, usually pulled back in a ponytail, tumbles freely down her back. A few wispy tendrils frame her face, softening the sharp angles of her cheekbones.
She’s beautiful, and even though I no longer love her, she still takes my breath away.
“Hey,” she says softly and tentatively, pulling the chair out and sitting down across from me.
“Hey.” I force myself to smile. “You look great. Very…Brooklyn chic.”
She laughs, but it’s one of those polite ones. “Thanks. I bought this dress from a thrift store over spring break.”
I nod but have nothing to add to that. We sit there, staring at each other while listening to the people in line place their orders.
God, this is the most awkward we’ve ever been around each other. The ease and comfort that always characterized our time together are nowhere to be found. In its place is nothing but a suffocating tension.
After ten minutes of opening and shutting our mouths, I place my hands on the table, palms down, and clear my throat. “Olivia, there’s something I need to tell you.”
She glances up at me, expressionless. She knows what I’m about to say. “I had an inkling this wasn’t a casual coffee date.”
“No, it’s not. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. About us and where we’re headed.”
Her whole body goes rigid. “And?”
“We need to break up.”
Those five little words hang in the air between us. Neither of us moves or speaks. Everything dissolves into white noise as we stare at each other across the table.
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