The Inevitable |

chapter 3

Ray and I had arrived at the hospital and I couldn't help notice the looks we got as people observed Ray's bloody face.

"Want a coffee?" Ray asked as we both took seats at reception.

"I'll get it, you?"

"Er, chai tea latte with two shots and cream please," Ray answered. He must have seen my expression change from neutral to outright horrified as he cracked up laughing. "Ouch, stop making me laugh like that. It literally hurts."

"I didn't!" exasperated, I exclaimed. "And okay, I'll be back."

I was trying to remember what he wanted, and whether he wanted two shots, or two creams. Either way, I didn't even know how to make it. Halfway down the corridor, Ray called me and I turned around.

"Flat white, please. I was joking!" he yelled, I couldn't help but smile.

"What a douche," I grinned and shot him the finger. He put a hand over his heart, as though I had wounded him and he stuck his bottom lip out.

I couldn't help but remember that I had only met this man two hours ago and here we were, already have kissed and trading banter and jokes like we had been the best of friends forever.

I stood in front of the coffee machine, and confused as to what to do. Truthfully, I never made my own coffee; I lived near a francise of Starbucks and as a regular customer, I got discounts since I had developed a friendship with the employees and employer and before heading to work, that was my go-to.

"Need some assistance?" a deep voice said behind me.

Surprised, I whirled around to face a... chest. I had to blink twice and look up at a dark (light-skinned) man who was extremely tall.

"Uh..." I didn't know what to say, I was rendered speechless.

"Sorry," he chuckled, "I'm Oliver. A nurse here," and he pointed to the badge he had on his light blue V-necked top that was part of the nurse uniform.

"I'm Aria, and I'm not a nurse here," I pointed to my non-existent badge and we both laughed. Then the laughter died down and there was just an awkward silence. I shuffled round on my feet and I glanced at my shoes. Adidas Superstars. No, I'm not a cliché 18 year old, I guess I just like following the trend. Some may have found it odd that I was dating a guy who was 22 but age is nothing but a number, right? I love the fact that I look like an eighteen year old with my fair skin; my layered, short hair that was dirty blonde at first until I died it jet black, so black that light reflected off it as well as my tall, slim figure. And no, I'm not naturally slim so don't cry and get jealous, instead, I hit the gym in my spare time. And having a well-paid job helped tons with my expenses towards clothes and make up and salons etc. Well, obviously it did, but now that I've quit I'll need to find another job...

"So, uh, you need some help?" he pointed to the coffee machine, and startled I looked up.

"Oh, yeah. I'm not really used to coffee machines, I buy it instead of actually making it," I replied, glad that he started a conversation.

"Oh, so you're them kind of people," he chuckles.

 I didn't know whether to be offended or not, so I just had to ask, "what kind of people?"

"You love things but can't handle the work it takes to get the," was his answer.

"Are you insinuating that I'm lazy?" I didn't know what he was saying or who he was and whether he was deliberately being rude.

"No, no," he immediately exclaimed, "okay. How about we start again. Hi, I'm Oliver, a nurse here and you must be?"

"Aria, I'm not a nurse here," I smiled, shaking his hand.