Darcy and her father return back to their old stomping grounds of New York City. With her, Darcy brings habits of being reclusive. She is perfectly content spending most of her time within the walls of her father's café and sees nothing wrong with t...
hooray a new chapter! <3 i was able to write chapter three during my mom's chemo session today! don't count on weekly uploads, this just happened to be quite an early chapter. ignore weird mistakes and typos, hope you enjoy! xx
✦✧✦
"You don't have time to be timid. You must be bold, darling." -Lumiere, Beauty and the Beast
✦✧✦
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
When I was pulled awake to the sporadic yet annoyingly consistent crashing of thunder, I wasn't even sure it was morning. No light filtered through the spaces of my blinds, and the world outside was being drenched in a fast, heavy downpour of rain. I squeezed my pillow tighter against my chest, leaning over to switch on the lamp on my bedside table. Brightness flooded the room, making me wince. With the use of my pillow as a shield for my eyes, I fell back onto the bed with a groan.
It was only six in the morning and today was Saturday, so I wasn't set to work today. Papa practically forbids me from working weekends so that I can have more time to focus on school work. Sometimes, when homework levels are low, I'll fight him on letting me go in, and today felt like one of those days. Today, I found myself really wishing it wasn't the weekend. I wanted to go to work.
Yeah, I know those two sentences sounded wrong. I mean, who doesn't love the weekend and days off of work? But I never found working at the café to be the type of tiring grind where it weighs down on you like a piece of sopping wet cloth. At the end of the day, I come down from a high that the café and our customers lift me to.
I'd be a liar if I said my desire to ride that high was the reason I wanted to go into work today, though.
My arm reached towards my bedside table, accidentally swiping a tissue box to the floor as I felt around for the crumpled napkin. All last night I was replaying the moment Chris and I locked eyes for the first time in years. I kept sorting through all the different possibilities in my head. What were the odds he would come back to the café and claim he remembered me? Would he approach me at school? Has he seen me at school? I've seen him this whole time, but I had no idea if he's seen me at all. And what if he didn't recognize me – Darcy – and all I am to him is "that girl with the braid?"
A brief knock broke me from my thoughts, and I instinctively shoved the napkin under my pillow as the door creaked open.
"You awake, honey?" asked Papa, opening the door wider when he saw that I indeed was awake.
I nodded in reply, wrapping myself in my blanket. I scooted and patted the spot next to me, saying, "I was wondering when you'd come knocking."
Him and the mattress beneath us groaned as he sat. "Now I'll tell you, Darce" – he wagged his finger towards the window, almost as if he was chastising Mother Nature – "this damn thunder really makes me mad when it wakes me up."
