I blink away the shock clouding my vision when I shouldn’t be. He’s been dishing out backhanded insults since the start of my PhD. And to this day, I’m still not sure why.
Arjun trained me when I first started here at the lab. And while I was nothing but kind to him, he only ever gave me curt answers and dirty looks. I figured he found me a nuisance—lingering during experiments and asking too many questions as he wrapped up his grad work. But seeing him as apostdoc now, quickly befriending everyone but me, I’ve come to realize it was never in my head.
Nora’s only been here for a handful of months, working on a subdivision of his work for her undergraduate thesis, yet they’ve quickly become two peas in a pod. The same applies to all the other students in the lab. One second, he’s laughing and cracking jokes, and the next, his face goes blank at the sight of me.
“Vivienne’s a smart one. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.” Nora forces a hopeful smile.
Arjun completely brushes off the comment. “Have you heard about the Nate Archer spark controversy?” He shifts the topic of conversation, resuming his walk to his desk on the other end of the office.
Nora gasps in approval, following him. “Yes! I never really knew of him before, but I’m so invested.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve always been a big fan…but wow, this made me realize you never know people’s true colors. Especially when they’re in the public eye.”
“The girl in the photos kinda looks like Vivienne, doesn’t she?”
Soon, their voices blur into the background, and a deep void fills me. It’s for the best that I can’t hear the rest. God knows I would tune in to see if Arjun ends up shit talking me.
Now alone in these trenches, there’s only one thing that can save me—a cup of Phil’s coffee and a hug from the man himself.
Preferably a long one, as well.
———
The line to Brews&Bookmarks quite literally wraps around the building, crowding the already narrow sidewalks and making it significantly harder not to bump into a nearby pedestrian.
The quaint book café tucked in the heart of the city is always busy—don’t get me wrong—but never to this extent. This was the kind of slammed that screameda celebrity is here, and we’re scrambling to catch a glimpse of them. As a mom-and-pop shop, that didn’t happen very often.
Angry stares follow me as I cut through the line and dart into the coffee shop, along with a string of incoherent slurs.
“Hey, Ava!” I wave at the barista as I slip behind the counter to pour myself a cup of black coffee.
While Phil, the owner of the coffee shop, and Margaret, his lovely wife, have made it infinitely clear that I could help myself to anything they had, I’ve never taken advantage of their kindness…until now.They seem busy enough. There’s no need to add another customer to their plate.
“Hey, Vivienne!” The brunette returns the gesture with a soft smile. “Two milks and one sugar?” she confirms, grabbing the packets and tossing them in my direction.
A shiver runs up my spine at the thought of those two very things and the man I now associate them with.
After some deep reflection on the sudden way my life went to shit, I’ve concluded thathe’sat the root of the cause. He and his stupid, sugary, milky coffee. So for the foreseeable future, “That won’t be necessary.”
Confusion etches itself onto her face, but she’s got no time to question my switch-up in coffee preference as I shuffle toward the back kitchen.
Metal counters line the periphery of the small room, a large one sitting right in the middle. Bakery racks expose dozens of trays filled with delicate, golden pastries. Their sweet aromas fill the air, and I inhale the scent deeply, a calmnesswashing over me before I stop short when two pairs of eyes lock onto mine.
The first set belongs to the man who took me in like his granddaughter—warm, brown, and swirling with golden honey.
The second belongs to the man I prayed never to see again—green like emeralds and never-ending like a forest. It was easy to get lost in them, but good lord, have I come to resent them.
I blink once. Twice. Three times. Hoping this is all one fever dream, but to no avail—they’re both still standing there.
“Oh, Vivienne! It’s been so long.” Phil rushes over, crushing me in one of his signature bear hugs.
My hand, still gripping the coffee cup, darts out from within his hold as he squeezes tightly. In an ideal world, I’d set my drink down on the counter and hug back with equal enthusiasm, but I can’t bring myself to enjoy the moment whenhe’shere.
The older man pulls back with a wide smile, ruffling the top of my hair. “You never told me you had a boyfriend.”
I snort at the remark.
Forget about a fever dream—this is my worst nightmare.
