Rewrite The Stars

Chapter 5

I went back to Lauren's room to grab some money and called a cab afterwards. Zach had sent me the address to a coffee shop he knew. It didn't take me more than twenty minutes to get to the place and all along I did everything in my power to keep myself from thinking. Because everything is uglier inside your head.

     I paid the driver and got out of the car when we arrived. I still have no idea why everything was more expensive in that city.

     Walking towards the coffee shop, I saw that there were a few tables set outside. But apparently everyone preferred to enjoy their drinks inside, where they could be warmer; all, except for one. Sitting behind one of the tables, there sat Zach Walter, locked up between the lines of the book he was reading. Again, he was wearing a plain T-shirt and his worn-out jeans. One of his hands was holding onto the book while the other was tangled in his messy brown hair.

     I walked towards him. But even when I reached him, he still hadn't noticed my presence. I didn't want to be creepy and keep staring at him as he was lost between the pages of his book, so I called out his name and finally caught his attention. I couldn't hold off my laughter when I saw him jump out of his skin at the sound. He was always too much inside his own thoughts, that he never paid attention to the outside world.

     “Hey. Sorry. I didn't see you there.” He apologized, putting a bookmark between the pages of his book, and finally putting it away.

     “May I?” I pointed at the chair before him and he nodded in delight.

     “You must've been really messed up to call me.” He said after I sat down before him.

     “Why would you say that?” I asked, surprised.

     He smiled before shaking his head. “Never mind.” He then changed the subject quickly, “So what ice-cream flavor should I get you?”

     “I'll just have a cup of coffee, please.” I said.

     “Alright.” He stood up. “But don't you come begging for some of my ice-cream, though. I don't fool around about my food.” He joked, making me laugh, and then left to order, leaving me in the dark of the night.

      A series of thoughts made their way into my head, one more ridiculous than the other. How could he be so perfect and yet be real at the same time? I found him perfect even though he wasn't that kind of a boy I used to find myself attracted to in the past few years. He didn't have a husky voice. He didn't have a built up body or six-packs; in fact, he was pretty skinny. He wasn't tall and was the same height as me, if not shorter. He was neither sexy, nor hot. But he was that kind of a guy who ordered ice-cream, instead of something classy just to impress me like others did on our first dates. Zach seemed careless about the world or even reality, as if he were a cartoon character; and I'm not talking about Prince Charming.

     I don't know how long I'd been lost in my thoughts, but shortly after, I snapped out of them when Zach came back. In one hand he had the smallest and plainest cup of coffee, meanwhile he held onto a big bowl filled with colorful ice-cream with different flavors in the other hand. It was designed with delicious looking fruit with a small yellow decorative umbrella on top.

     “Damn, I wish I had ordered that.” I sighed in regression the moment he sat back down in front of me and gave me my cup of coffee.

     “I told you so–”

     “–Don't say 'I told you so'“ We said at the same time and after staring at each other for a short moment, we burst out laughing at that.

     “Well, I've got an extra spoon.” He offered. “Just in case I dropped the first one and was too lazy to get another one.”

     “How generous of you.” I mocked as I got the extra spoon from him, leaving my coffee untouched. “Thanks.”

     “So where are you planning on visiting after New York?” I asked, taking a spoon full of the cherry ice-cream.

     “I don't know. Virginia, Carolina, or maybe Texas?” He shrugged carelessly. “Where are you staying right now, by the way?”

     “With my friend. She's got a dorm at that school.”

     “They allow you to stay there?”

     “Nope. But in case it has escaped your notice, I'm not really strict on following rules.”

     “Of course not,” he chuckled. “And you sure as hell don't care who you go out with as long as you've spent as much as a train-ride with them.”

     “You're not telling me that you're a serial killer or something, are you?” I smirked teasingly.

     “For all you know, I could be. I could even be the guy in the mask in the Saw movie or Scream. You know,” he then narrowed his eyes and attempted to speak in a strained voice, yet failed horribly. “I could just be waiting for the right moment to take out my axe or knife.”

     “Where exactly can you be hiding an axe right now?”

     He thought for a bit before saying, “You don't wanna know.” He clearly didn’t know it himself either.

     “Are you trying to freak me out?” I asked blankly.

     “Depends. Is it working?”

     “Not while you're eating ice-cream with fruits and an umbrella on top, it's not.” I reasoned, making him laugh.

     “Yeah, I can't be creepy to save a life.” He shrugged.

     “True, but then again, no one will ever be asked to save a life by being creepy.”

     “In my defense, you wouldn't know that unless you get into the situation. Would you, now?” He reasoned, looking completely serious while talking about such childish and silly topic.

     “And what situation is that gonna be, exactly?” I mused, raising a brow.

     “You know,” he again deepened his voice and mimicked, “Be creepy or your friend dies!”

     “Why I'm still here, arguing with you on this topic, is beyond me.” I shook my head. “Seriously, though. How on earth did we get on this subject from me staying with my friend, anyways?”

     “Honestly, I don't remember,” he chuckled. “But I'll make a note to never write a thriller. No one would buy it.”

     “I might,” I shrugged. “You know, just in case I was in desperate need to have a good laugh.”

     “Yes, because a good laugh is the reason people pay to read thriller books.”

     Minutes passed with cheesy jokes and loud laughter. I can't remember saying a single sentence in that conversation with him that actually made sense. But it all seemed to sound normal to Zach Walter.

     Everything was going pretty good, until Zach decided to break that apart by saying something out of the blue, making things weirder than they were,

     “Why do you act happy?”

     “What?” I said, shocked, even though I'd heard him the first time.

     “Why do you act like you're happy?” He repeated himself.

     “I– I'm not acting.” I shrugged with a smile.

     “You just did it again.” He said gently. “Look, it's none of my business. But it does no good to pretend to have those emotions that you're not feeling.”

     “What do you mean?” I frowned, starting to feel extremely uncomfortable.

     “Like... when you're not having fun hanging out with someone, you don't have to pretend that you do. You just stand up and leave without extra explanation.” He shrugged. “Of course, that's my version of doing it. You should probably explain it politely to that poor person.”

     I chuckled. “So you're having fun with me right now?” I said, trying desperately to defuse the tension which was surging between us.

     “I'm still sitting here, aren't I?” He joked, but then continued, “All I'm saying is that... there's no shame in shedding tears or scream in anger when you feel like it.”

     “I don't cry in front of people.” I said truthfully. “I'm an extremely emotional person, but only when I'm alone.”

     “That’s mistake number one.” He shrugged. “You don't do it, Zoe, because you're afraid of what people might think about you.”

     “No, I don't.” I argued stubbornly.

     “Yeah, you do.”

     “Well, so what if I do?”

     “Mistake number two!” He then asked, “Do you think running away was a mistake? Truthfully.”

     “Maybe. I don't know yet–”

     “–Well, let me tell you that it wasn't a mistake. The real mistakes are the ones that lead you to what you think the real mistake is.” He continued, “You didn't escape your problems. You're just trying to run away from yourself. But you can't change who you are and you can't erase the past; you just have to move on from it. I don't know what you've been through or what made you do this. But what I can say is that you can't be chained up to the past forever; because the clock goes on even if you hold your breath.”

     “My past is not the problem. My problem is my future. I'm afraid of it. I'm afraid my destiny would disappoint me.”

     “You know...” He started with a smile. “I believe in many things. I believe in ghosts, in aliens, and even in soulmates. But the one things I won't buy is destiny.”

     “What do you mean?” I scoffed. “Of course destiny matters! You can't change your family. You can't choose the country you are born in.”

     “It doesn't matter what country you come from.” He continued gently, “Our religions, our genders, the color of our skins... these are all excuses. If you try hard, if you believe in yourself, and if you have hope... you can make all your dreams come true. Because the only thing standing on your way is you.”