Wrong-An Ethan Morales FanFiction

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖

𝓔𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷

I ᴅʀᴏᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ Sʜʀɪᴍᴘ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғʀᴏɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ, ᴍᴜsɪᴄ blasting at the front of the car and all of them singing the lyrics one by one. I hated singing, so instead I just kept driving with the image of me kissing Isabel so hard the other night with so much force that she was moaning into my mouth. The sweetest sound ever. That was my favorite song now.
Since then, we didn't talk. At school, whenever we crossed paths or whatever.
I never kissed someone with so much intensity it was crazy. At some point I was out of air but I kept going anyway because she was moaning into my mouth and just from a kiss and some touching. It was so fucking addicting.

Me and my friends eventually arrived to the town's coffee shop, parked and got out. They followed behind all the time, I was always doing the talking while they talked to each other instead. I was like a mother of a group of not so little boys. It was like this all the time, I was used to it so it was fine anyway. Just the fact that a lot of people had seen me as the only person who did the talking.
Sometimes they would step up and talk for themselves, but other than that, nope. They only talked to each other.
We entered the Starbucks and headed to the cashier, this time instead of being a guy like it was all the time we came here—his name was Theo—it was a girl bent over the other side of the counter, hair up in a ponytail and a green Sherman Oaks Coffee Shop apron wrapped tight around her waist.
She was writing something down on a notepad, stray strands of curly hair covering small bits of her face that from a distance didn't let me recognise the person. The hair was hella familiar.
"Hey." I spoke up, trying to get the girl to look up at me. And she did.
It was Isabel. Working at a the Sherman Oaks Coffee Shop. The Isabel I'd kissed just a few days ago. She was here. In front of me. About to take my coffee order and one for all my friends.
"Hey. Sorry, uh, what can I get you?" She asked, clearing her throat and looking at my friends behind me. We were nine—yeah, it was a mess to get everyone in my car but we managed, mostly by getting some guys to sit on the laps of some others—and her eyes widened when she probably realized how much drinks she had to prepare.
Everything for money.
"I'll take a caramel macchiato, as for them..." I started, placing the orders for every single one of my friends, seeing her note everything down.
Once she did, she tucked the pen on top of her ear, dropping the notebook on the counter and going to prepare our drinks. She did mine first, getting the coffee, drizzling caramel onto the cup and all around the inside, pouring the milk and the coffee one on top of the other, finishing off with the whipped cream and again, caramel.
I'd watched a lot of times my favourite drink being made by someone else, that someone else being Theo, and somehow it seemed like Isabel did it all like a pro. The way she moved her hands, how she held the cup at a certain degree, how she did it all so carefully.
There was a reason I was so drawn to this girl—and no, not just because I made out with her and groped her ass like it was a piece of meat just the other day—but I didn't know why.
I just met her a few weeks ago, and there are so many girls at school asking for my attention. I haven't touched any girl ever since Isabel came into school for the first time, which had been weird for my friends. I mean, I had made out with some girls at the party but not as hard as I did with Isabel the next day in the morning on my bed. Yet she didn't seem to want to talk about it, neither did I want to.
Maybe.
"That'll be...68,75$ for the nine drinks. Please." She muttered, her voice soft but loud enough for anyone to hear.
"I'll pay, they're too focused on talking about random shit." I said, trying to make a conversation. Failing miserably.
"Right." She answered, her hands gripping onto the edges of the counter that she was in front of as I took my wallet and pulled out seven ten dollar bills.
She took them and counted, opening the register and placing the money. She kept her hands in there, probably counting the 1,25$ change.
"Keep the change." I said, she nodded and closed everything, looking at me as I took the bag of drinks and gave her a light nod, leaving with my friends.
Gosh, that was so awkward.