I felt bad because I used to let you have some water from the flask we usually put on the condiment stand, but my co-workers didn't like it and took that privilege away from you. Before I left last year, you told me I was the nicest person to have ever worked here, even if it was just because I let you have water.
They chased you away, and today you came back for the first time in a long time. They called security and a shouting fest ensued, ending tragically with you being escorted from the center by two burly security guards. I felt terrible, because I wasn't allowed to do anything, and even though you're notorious for being a shoplifter and posses psychological problems, I never really saw the harm in a little bit of water, and could never really comprehend why everyone else was so dead against you.
I don't like this job, but I always tell myself as I pour out my lattes with pride, that with every coffee I pour, I'm pouring a little bit of my heart in it, and maybe that might help a little, even if it brightens their day by just that little drop of heartfelt caffeine.
I went into Uni yesterday and I was horrendously early, so I went up to the labs to sit at the computers before class, and McCool was there, all by himself. I took a deep breath and said Hi, but my Hi was shaky and almost nonchalant in my desperate urge to look like I wasn't terrified by the fact that you were there, and you looked up and said Hey back, but it was your usual, cool, emotionless, smile-less McCool Hey, the Hey you used to give me back when you barely took any notice of me, even though you never even bothered to say Hey then.
It was a mere ten minutes I spent in that lab before I started to feel suffocated by your presence and I had to escape, because there's only so much of discreet fangirly staring I can do from behind my monitor as we sit at complete opposite ends of the room, in complete silence, running our fingers through our hair. If I had stayed any longer, there might have been serious consequences whereby you might catch me staring at you and then I would be in real trouble. Also, I think it's time I disconnect this ridiculous fangirliness over you, because even though you look like him
, talk like him
, act like him
and even smell like him
, you're not him
and if I stick around any longer Guilt is going to become my middle name, and I love him
, not you, and for his sake (anyway, I doubt any boy in his right mind would be very comfortable with his girlfriend fangirling over someone else, fictional or not) I think I should disconnect, right now, before fangirliness turns into something terrible, god forbid.
I've had my fun and he deserves better. No amount of prettiness can tear me away from him.
My mind was immediately distracted after by - who else? My friends - and we burst into shrieks of laughter over an inside joke in the lecture hall, causing all heads to turn and stare at us, including McCool - and I didn't care, and I didn't care that the lecturer looked like he was about to cook us for dinner, all I cared about was laughing with
us until splinters ached in our sides. The moment we sobered slightly, my phone rang shrilly, loudly, interrupting the lecturer once again and this only made us burst into even more giggles and with much joy, I flipped open my phone and it was him
, and it was the only
person I'd love to be interrupted by in the middle of a lecture - yes - definitely moreso than McCool. Definitely
Labels: love, mccool, work