Coffee & Cream

Mood Swings

DARCELLE

I felt like a bird perched on a tree, resting, thinking about where to fly next. Emrys’ words echoed in my head—you can’t be with anyone else but me. It was like a lock had clicked into place, trapping me in something I hadn’t fully agreed to. I thought it was unfair. Hell, it was unfair. He had a girlfriend for crying out loud, whether he loved her or not. I told him so, but all I got was a hum in response. Just a lazy, dismissive "mmm." He didn’t even bother to argue.

But his eyes? They spoke volumes. They always did. A whole story in those dark depths, full of words I knew I wouldn’t want to hear. After that, he brushed me off and told me he had somewhere to be and that I needed to leave. Kicked me out like I was nothing. No argument, no drama—just cold dismissal. And I stood there, watching him turn away as if what we just had wasn’t worth more than a few minutes of his time.

Now here I was, curled up on my balcony with my knees pulled to my chest, staring at the night sky like it might offer me some answers. The wind was cool, and the city sounds felt distant, like I was in my own little bubble. A part of me wanted to cry, to scream, to do something, but the tears never came. They never did.

Just then, my phone rang. Nathan. He wanted to hang out, get some pizza, and maybe work on our geography assignment. It sounded like a distraction I needed, so I agreed. Geography could wait—we both knew that. Nathan wasn’t the type to focus on schoolwork for long, anyway.

We did more eating than studying, and as usual, Nathan launched into his latest rant about his “sugar mummy.” I laughed between bites of pizza, shaking my head. “Wait, so are you still messing with the married librarian too?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“f**k that,” he said with a grin, pulling out a fat stack of cash, probably five grand or more. He waved it in my face like a prize. “This is from today, for showing her a good time.”

I gasped, then smirked. “Damn, Nathan, you hit the jackpot.”

He counted out a thousand dollars from the stack and handed it to me with a sweet smile. “Just because I love you.”

I squealed, the kind of excitement I hadn’t felt all night, and pocketed the cash. People at the nearby tables shot us weird looks for being too loud, but I didn’t care. I needed this. Something light, something stupid. Nathan always knew how to distract me.

After pizza, he walked me home, still joking, still being Nathan. But before I could unlock the door, he looked at me with that knowing grin. “I wonder who it is you’re fucking.”

I laughed, but something inside me froze. “Why do you assume I’m f*****g anyone?”

“Maybe because you’re flashing hickeys on your neck like a goddamn neon sign,” he teased, pointing at my collarbone.

I rolled my eyes, pushing him playfully. “You know me—I go fishing at the club. Old habits die hard.”

He bought it, of course. He knew my past well enough to believe it. After all, I did lose my virginity to someone I met at the club. It made sense that I’d keep up the same routine. That’s what he told me, anyway. And that’s what I let him think.

The next day, after school and a long, grueling shift at the grocery store, I found myself day-drinking in the park again. It was becoming a bad habit, but I needed the numbness, the silence it brought to my mind. The alcohol made everything a little softer and less sharp. I sat on the bench, watching people walk by, feeling disconnected from all of it.

I didn’t even notice Emrys at first, but suddenly, he was there, sitting beside me like he belonged in my personal escape. I didn’t say anything. I was still mad at him for kicking me out, but I wasn’t stupid enough to push him away. Not yet, anyway.

“You want some company?” he asked, his voice low like he already knew the answer.

I nodded, silent, still holding onto that anger, but it was fading. As much as I hated it, I liked him too much to stay mad. He was a mess of contradictions—distant one moment, intense the next. But that was what kept me hooked. I wasn’t in control around him, and maybe that’s what I craved.

After a few minutes of sitting together, staring at nothing, he suggested we go back to my place. I didn’t argue. It felt too easy, too familiar. We walked in silence, the tension between us thick, but not the kind that made me want to run. It was the kind that made me want more.

The second we were through the door, his hands were on me. The anger was still there, but it didn’t stop me from kissing him back. It was rough, urgent—he pulled me close, and I let him, my fingers tangling in his hair as if I was trying to hold onto something real.

We didn’t even make it to the bed. Just a quick, messy release on the couch, like we couldn’t wait any longer. He didn’t say much and didn’t apologize for kicking me out the night before. He just took what he wanted, and I let him because it was easier than dealing with everything else.

When it was over, he stood up, fixing his clothes like nothing had happened. “I’ve got an appointment,” he said, his voice distant again, like he was already somewhere else.

I watched him go, the door closing behind him, leaving me alone in the silence. Again.

********

I rang up another customer absentmindedly, the rhythmic beeps of the scanner barely registering. My mind was somewhere else entirely. Emrys. I couldn’t stop thinking about him—about that conversation on his terrace, how easy it had felt to talk to him. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he revealed these little pieces of himself that felt raw and real. And ever since that night, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were more alike than I had realized. I wanted to know more—what else we saw eye to eye on, what other dark truths we shared.

He was always high, always chasing that next hit like he was running from something. But what? He did everything—weed, molly, LSD in public; coke and heroin in private. It amazed me how he could be so functional and so put together despite it all. Isabelle had no idea, and he’d told me as much. It was almost like he let me in on some kind of secret—a part of him no one else knew. And that made me feel... special. But also more curious. What was he really running from?

The loud chatter of new customers snapped me back to reality. They were being obnoxious, laughing and shouting without a care, oblivious to the other shoppers around them. As long as they paid for whatever they picked up, security wouldn’t bother them. I sighed, trying to refocus on my job, when I heard a familiar voice cut through the noise.

Emrys.

I glanced up, and there he was, messing around with his friends like a carefree kid. Isabelle was there too, taking selfies with her girlfriends, completely absorbed in her own world. The Emrys I was seeing now felt like a stranger—lighthearted, playful, nothing like the man I f****d in secret. This Emrys? He was the kind of guy I wanted to stay away from. The public version. The one who fit into everyone’s perfect little box.

I tried to watch them subtly as they shopped, my heart picking up speed. Please don’t come to my counter. I silently begged, shutting my eyes for a second. But, of course, fate didn’t care about my silent pleas.

"Yo, hot outcast!" I heard Topher, one of Emrys’ friends, call out to me. I rolled my eyes, not even bothering to respond to his stupid nickname. Instead, I plastered on the most fake smile I could muster and waited for them to come to the register.

When I looked up, Emrys was staring at me, his arm casually draped around Isabelle’s shoulder. He looked completely indifferent, like I was just any other cashier to him. No flirty smirk, no teasing eyes—just nothing. I tore my gaze away from him and focused on the items they were buying: condoms, eggs, espresso powder, chocolates, cigarettes, garbage bags... all the essentials, apparently.

One of Isabelle’s friends made some comment about Emrys’ chocolate mousse being the best thing ever, and he laughed, sticking his tongue out playfully. “Yeah, well, you’re not getting any extra, no matter how much you hype me up,” he joked.

I rang up the last item and told them the total, keeping my voice neutral. Emrys stepped forward, chewing gum, and pulled out his black card like it was nothing. I glanced at him briefly, hoping for something—anything—but he just stared blankly back at me, still chewing, still completely unfazed.

The payment device blinked, asking if he wanted to leave a tip, and to my surprise, he selected “yes” and tipped me a hundred dollars. I forced a smile, thanked him for his patronage, and told him to come again soon—not because it was him, but because that’s what I was supposed to do.

He just nodded, still chewing his gum like it was any other day, any other moment. No acknowledgment. No recognition of what we had.

I turned to the next customer, my smile still glued to my face, even as my mind screamed in frustration.