A Perfect Stitch

Chapter 46 | departing with sorrow

I fastened the strings of my bag, smiling at the possible things a Hispanic mum might do to her son.

I fast-forwarded my walk into the white and brown theme Cafe.

I inhaled the aroma of roasted coffee grains and toured through the clouds of caffeine.

Dusk had blackened the sky and the swaying clouds were blindfolded.

Yet, the handful of people in the cafe worked on their laptops and sipped from their mugs effortlessly.

"Hey, " a hand crumpled my shoulder and I leaped. "You came."

"Lisa?"

I veered around to meet her face and she flashed a smile at me.

"Give me a second, " she jerked her blazing gown to cover her unguarded cleavage.

Did my parents see her dress?

I blinked into reality.

"Let's sit over there, " she led me to an empty table by the brick windows.

The coffee machines and the brewing of coffee whizzed like whirlwind, complementing the studious bistro atmosphere.

I placed my backpack on the table and looked around for any inconvenience.

A waitress hurried our way and flashed her straight teeth at us.

She had a way with words that could push customers to order anything as she presented their barista's specialties.

Elisabeth preferred a chocolate pudding over a milkshake while I opted for a homemade soda drink.

The Lady wrote down our orders on her notepad and left.

"What's this talk about?"

Elisabeth struck the bridge of her nose and furrowed her brows.

I sighed. "Why did you hide part of the truth from me?"

"What are you talking about?" She hissed. "I don't get it."

"Why did you paint Dwain as the bad guy in your version of the story while you brought equal shit to the table?"

She was speechless.

I kept talking. "You didn't tell me about the article you wrote against Dwain; an article which ruined his life and which is the first reason why he loathed you so much."

As Elisabeth was about to react, the waitress interrupted our discussion with her sweet voice and placed our order on the table, before walking away as soon as we thanked her.

I drank my soda from a straw.

Elisabeth's joyous expression quickly switched to someone who had seen a bag of dehydrated poop.

She carried a spoon full of her pudding and stuffed her mouth, trying hard to ignore my question.

"Loathed?" She nodded, faking a silly laugh. "He hates me the same way I hate him."

My brows were raised, nearly filling the indentation between my eyes.

"Elisabeth, you are wrong."

"Umm. . ."

She cleared her throat, still chewing on her pudding as if her life depended on it. "Tell me more since you know too much about it."

I rolled my eyes and sipped my soda, ignoring the passive aggressiveness in her voice.

Judging from the creepy smile on her face, Elisabeth was up to something.

She stopped eating her pudding and tangled her fingers on the table.