The Unattainable

chapter 1: THE LUCKYTHON

“Addie!” Amanda called outside our dorm room. “Hurry up, dude! I’m itching to run!”

I stumbled on a pile of laundry, tripping over a belt. Seriously, Amanda’s clutter can be life-threatening sometimes. Biting off a curse I let out a sigh instead. I hastily tied my long, black hair into a ponytail and put on my running shoes.

“Adelaine!”

I hurried to the door. “Jesus, Manda, what’s the rush? We’re not joining a marathon, are we?”

“The sun’s getting high. You know I don’t like it when it’s already too hot.” She said, making a face.

I locked our door and handed her the keys since my yoga pants didn’t have any pockets. “If I didn’t know you better I’d say you’re being a whiny ass.” We walked downy the hallway, still bickering.

“Who’s whining?”

“You.”

“I don’t whine, Addie,” she said. “I only complain.”

I smirked at her and dropped it. Today’s Friday—our usual day of working out. When I say working out I meant running, well, at least for the both of us. When we were freshmen we applied membership to a gym near the university campus. It was Manda’s idea—she was a bit chubby back then and was pretty much determined to slim down. Unfortunately, she would not do it without me so she tagged me along. When we got to our third year our schedules were pretty tight and we decided to find another way to stay fit. We ran every Friday morning because it was our only vacant time together.

We reached the lounge area and a bunch of young folks were chatting in groups. I didn’t made eye contact with any of them as Amanda and I strode past the glass front doors. The weather outside seemed favorable.

“C’mon,”Amanda urged eagerly. “Let’s have Frappes afterwards.”

We went down the front stairs and jogged outside the campus. We rounded a curb and took our usual street. We ran for a few miles and after less than an hour we headed back to St. Andrew’s street. We stopped over to have coffee at Starbucks to get energized again from our run. We had a good start that morning and I was positive that the rest of the day would be great.

“Here you go,” said Paul, the barista at the counter as he handed our large Frappucinos. I wouldn’t have known Paul if not for Manda. They shared a couple of classes, I think. Paul worked part-time at Starbucks.

Chatting over coffee at Starbucks became our routine after every run. It was our way of cooling down our bodies after a vigorous physical activity but I wasn’t sure if this habit was healthy at all. I wasn’t exactly addicted to caffeine but after getting into college I realized the necessity of stimulant drinks. “The “yummy” part was a bonus.

After tipping Paul generously we waved goodbye at him and left. But before I could turn around completely I saw the whole “winking” act of Manda to the guy. I giggled. If I didn’t know her better I would have think that she was interested in him. I mean, who wouldn’t? Paul was cute with almond-brown eyes that matched the color of his curly hair. As if those little dimples weren’t enough to charm girls. But Paul isn’t my type, nor Manda’s. Manda happened to be a lesbian. Cute, pixie hair, broad shoulders, porcelain skin (probably the reason why she’s not so fond of the sun because her skin tend to burn easily), and a pretty face completed the package. She was taller than me, of course, since I’m petite. We met for the first time at the University two years ago; we were roommates and clicked right away. Her sexuality never bothered me in the slightest. In fact, I found it extremely interesting.

We sat in two of the outdoor seats and enjoyed our coffee. It was already nine o’clock in the morning and yet the street isn’t busy. We talked about her hellacious classes (she’s taking Forensics Science, by the way), giggled over her obsession of her female professor and my lack of enthusiasm to the boys. She joked about me joining her club.

I laughed and found myself contemplating about her observation of me. It wasn’t like I’m not fond of men—actually; I had a boyfriend back in high school. But the last boyfriend of mine was actually the reason why I stopped interacting with men. I had a bad experience with my ex, and he was my first love. We grew up together and attended the same high school. I was his muse, he said. We fell in love, but he broke my heart. A typical love story. I still wondered if I’ll ever get over him. He was boyish and adorable, but college had created a new lifestyle to him that he wasn’t able to control. It ruined him.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Manda gave me an exasperated look. She pointed at the maroon-colored café building across the street that had wide parking space at the front. Its huge glass windows were tinted so you couldn’t see the interior design of the room nor the customers inside. I scanned the place, trying hard to see what she was pointing at specifically. Heaven Café—the name of the place—was relatively known in the area for its vintage structure and old-fashioned flavored coffees, pastries and wine. I could name some of my fave pastries in their shop but right now I was lost to what was Manda saying. I gave her a confused look.

“I said ‘who do you think owns that car?’” she repeated.

I looked back and spotted the car she meant. Right at the corner of the parking area was a glossy, sleek, black car that was strangely settled in between two Honda cars. Its sporty and powerful design lent it a striking appearance, thus making it stand out among the other parked vehicles. It looked like it didn’t belong there—it really didn’t belong there. A modern luxury car in a vintage café? Strange.

Manda nipped at her straw, absently chewing it while her eyes never left the car. “I noticed that car every day. Every time we come here that car is also there.”She bent closer and whispered ridiculously. “Who do you say is the owner of that café, again? You mentioned it the last time we grabbed some wine there.”

I thought for a moment. I did know the owner of the café by name. Sheila—the girl who worked there mentioned it when I asked her about their Chef and she babbled about her “ancient” bosses.

“I’m sure Sheila hadn’t mentioned a young fella. She was clear to point out that her boss is an oldie.”

I recalled her saying that that is how they got the vintage idea. Hey hired young people only for the interior, baking, management and for other services.

“Could be the manager,” I guessed. But if I’m that rich I would not waste my time working as a manager.

“I bet it’s Bugatti. Like those insane wheels in the movies Fast and Furious.”

I smirked. “I didn’t know you were such into cars.”

“Well, I’m actually more interested to know the contents of the owner’s pockets.”

“I bet he has those problems where his legs go numb for sittin’ on those thick wallets.”

Amanda laughed and sighed. “Oh, boy. Some people are just so poor. All they have in this world is money.”

We continued to chat for a little while. By the time we’re done with our drinks we headed back to the dorm.