Page 16 of Paparazzi

I give her the stink eye. “No, it’s not true, and I won’t see him again.”

“Did you give him your number?”

“No, I didn’t give him my number. It’s bad enough that I kissed him.”

Emily rolls her eyes and walks away from the parking lot.

“Where the hell are you going?” We all look at her perplexed.

“I forgot something inside. I’ll be right back.” She runs away and doesn’t give us time to call her back or follow her.

“So, are you fucking the rock star?” chuckles Jasper.

“No, no one’s fucking him.” I smile.

“Of course not. If I hadn’t arrived, he’d already have his hands between your legs,” Albert mumbles.

I turn to him, annoyed. “That’s not true. We kissed. Period. Don’t exaggerate things just to prove you’re a jerk,” I attack him a little too harshly.

The truth is, I’m not mad at my friend. I’m mad at myself for completely losing control with the only person I should stay away from. And what worries me the most is the whole time it never crossed my mind that I was doing something wrong. Everything about that kiss and his hands on me seemed right. But my fantasy is based entirely on my lies; if Thomas knew what I’ve done in the past, he’d be disgusted with me.

Idiot. I feel like a complete idiot out here at this café, looking at her through the window while she’s working on her computer, for God’s sake! I woke up this morning with last night still burned in my mind: her lips bending slightly upwards when she talks about music, the way she gets angry when people don’t understand certain songs, her persistence in defending some albums that, for the rest of the world, are really awful. I still feel her taste on my tongue, her hair in my fingers, her hands on my skin. The distance between us almost hurts.

She sucked me into her world, captured me with her big green eyes, and made my legs tremble like a kid. I look around as people passing by on their way to the office cast strange glances at me. They’re right. I’m here in the middle of the sidewalk in Alphabet City. The café in front of me is all painted in bright tones with graffiti. It’s a splash of color in the middle of the tall, gray, and dilapidated buildings in this area. It’s one of Manhattan’s less wealthy and popular neighborhoods, where the streets would be glum and bare without these vibrant spots. It’s certainly not as Christmassy as Fifth Avenue and its twinkling lights. Still, some decorations have appeared on the windows, giving glimpses of the festive atmosphere inside those spaces. And Iris is a splash of life amid those spirals of colors. Her red hair, gathered in a messy bun held together by a pencil. In the daylight, it almost seems to catch fire. She’s focused on her laptop, her lips pouting in concentration that makes her adorable and her forehead wrinkled as if she’s writing the next Pulitzer-winning piece.

A middle-aged man with graying hair and a suit at least two sizes too big walks past, bumping me slightly with his shoulder while looking at his cell phone and muttering an apology. That’s just what I need to wake up from my daydream. I take a deep breath and decide to go into the café and make myself look ridiculous for the umpteenth time.

I look around and get lost for a second at the endless list of items written in colored chalk on the huge menu attached to the wall behind the counter. The shelf in front of me is cluttered with glass vases containing various biscuits from a local pastry shop. Around me, the tables, sofas, and chairs are mismatched, as though taken from some flea market, giving it a quirky vibe. What may seem like a nonsensical jumble of furniture is actually an explosion of color that elicits a feeling of joy.

“Finally, you decided to come in. I thought you’d cut and run after you finished your cigarette and were about to light a third. You could still dash out if you want, because she’s so focused on her work, she didn’t even notice you coming in.” Emily teases me from behind the counter, although her infectious smile doesn’t embarrass me at all. I get the impression she’s like Iris: very straightforward and sincere in dealing with people.

“Are you suggesting I should avoid being an idiot and leave before she notices?” I ask with a laugh, but the truth is, I’m tempted to actually do it.

“Are you kidding? I didn’t run back to the club last night and tell you where she would be this morning because I needed the exercise. She’s a woman. How many have you had in your life? This is no different!” Her rebuke makes me smile but also feel like an idiot. “Do you want anything in the meantime?”

I study her for a few seconds. “I’m sorry, I’m lost,” I confess, a little embarrassed.

The girl smiles at me, and her brown eyes light up. “Do you want to order?”

“A black coffee,” I say without thinking about it, ordering what I usually get when I go out, avoiding the endless menus and the pressure of the cashiers who want to take your order and quickly dispose of the line behind you.

This is not the case with Emily; she looks at me almost disappointed. “A black coffee? Are you sure?” she asks, nodding to the wall behind her that’s crowded with dozens of different types of coffee, as well as herbal teas and a list of sweet and salty sandwiches so long it makes me anxious. Does anyone really need to order a decaffeinated latte with cream and sprinkles of caramelized hazelnuts? Can a person even drink something like that?

“And a double granola?” It’s more of a question than a statement, given my insecurity as I’m pointing a finger at the first jar in front of me. I basically have no idea what I ordered.

“Great choice. It’s one of my favorites.”

I have the vague impression that she’s good-naturedly making fun of me, but I can’t make any decent jokes to escape this awkwardness. Ever since meeting Iris, I’ve been piling up an almost embarrassing list of blunders. My awkward moments are evolving from bad to worse.

“Thank you, that’s reassuring to know.” The statement comes out so serious and solemn that Emily can’t hold back a chuckle.

“Do you want to pay, or do you want anything else?” Her kind smile reassures me she’s not making fun of me at all.

“I’ll pay.” I smile at her shaking my head. I already know these two aren’t going to make my life easy.

When I finally grab my coffee and a very inviting looking cookie, I turn to Iris and find her staring at me with the same wide eyes as last night—like an alien just landed in front of her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asks aloud, making half the people in here turn and look. I feel almost undressed, and not in a pleasant way.

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