Hunter & Heather

Hunter went to the same coffee shop five days a week. The coffee was fine, not worth the $5 a cup, but Hunter didn’t mind that. He wasn’t there for the coffee.

Heather, his girlfriend—well soon-to-be girlfriend— was clearing cups from a table, when he flagged her over.

“Could I get another?” he flashed a grin in her direction.

“Sure,” she responded with her honey-sweet smile. Today, her lips were a deep mauve, and her hair was pulled up loosely in a ponytail. When she walked away, she left a sweet trail of perfume that wafted into his nostrils, intoxicating him.

“Here you are,” Heather said, pouring the rich brown coffee into his cup. Even the smell of roasted beans couldn’t cover up the sweetness of her perfume.

“Thanks,” he said. “It’s a bit slow today, isn’t it?”

“Valentine’s Day,” she said over her shoulder. "In a place called Love, it's hard to ignore."

“Ah, those fools. Sleeping in or at fancy brunches,” he said. Heather gave him a chuckle in response.

Yes! He took a sip of his coffee, warming the inside of his stomach. Today’s the day, he thought. I’m going to ask her out. No chickening out this time.

“Well, can’t say I blame them," Heather continued. "If I could be here, or getting served waffles and mimosas, I would choose the waffles."

“Waffles are the best breakfast food,” Hunter said.

Heather smiled and nodded, “That is indeed the truth.” She walked over to him, holding out a small white plate with a warmed scone sitting on top.

“For me?” he asked. The gesture surprised him. Maybe this is it! Has she finally noticed that I sit here day by day waiting for her to notice my existence?

“Yeah,” Heather shrugged. “Boss is out right now, and looks like no one else will be here for a while.”

Hunter tried not to let the excitement overwhelm him, “Uh—well, would you like to sit with me? We could share it—not like other customers are waiting.”

She hesitated at his offer, clearly wondering what her boss would think if he came back to see her flirting with a customer. But Hunter wasn’t just any customer. He was a regular, and the owner was the father of a friend from high school.

“Why not,” she said, sliding into the chair opposite of him. “This is a new recipe I’ve been trying out. You’ll have to let me know what you think.”

Hunter pulled off a piece of the scone and popped it in his mouth. She kept her eyes fixed on him in anticipation for his response. Having her look at him like this made his stomach flutter. Is this really happening? My dreams are coming true right before my eyes. Sitting across from me is an angel.

“Heavenly,” he said.

Heather clapped, “Yes! I’m going to have to show it to Bruce when he gets back. I’ve been wanting to add some new dishes to the menu, and I think this would be perfect.”

“I’m sure anything you make would be divine.”

Heather blushed, “You’re too kind.”

Okay, here we go, Hunter thought. “So, did you mean what you said before?”

“When I said what?”

“You’d rather be drinking mimosas and eating waffles?”

“I mean, yeah of course. Wouldn’t you?”

“I think I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Heather hesitated, and Hunter’s stomach clenched, Shit, he thought. But instead of running away, she smiled.

She always smiled.

“You know, you are in here quite a bit. Don’t you have someone at home?” she asked.

Hunter cleared his throat, trying to keep a steady grip on his coffee cup, “Well, no. I’m single— if that’s what you’re asking. I’m in here a lot because it’s close to home, and I like the… coffee,” he said, raising the cup to his lips. By now, the coffee was chilled to lukewarm and was bitter as it washed over his tongue.

Heather took a bite of her scone and smiled. Hunter loved her smile. Her perfect cupid’s bow arch, the suppleness of the skin. He craved to touch her, to feel her soft skin against his calloused fingers.

"What about you?” he asked. “You have anyone at home when you’re not here serving bums like me?”

Heather looked away shyly, “Not… exactly.”

“Exactly?” he inquired. Heather’s hand was laying on the table just a few inches from his fingertips. His hand twitched at the thought of holding it.

Hunter reached across to grab a piece of scone, brushing the back of his hand to hers. She didn’t flinch at his touch, and it left a wonderful warm tingling sensation that spread across the skin on his hand. He longed to touch the back of his hand to her face, to smell her perfume on his skin. But he resisted.

She brushed off his question, “I’d prefer not to talk about home when I’m at work.”

“I thought we were just two people sharing a scone over coffee?”

“Well, if it’s alright, I would just like to keep things professional at least.”

Hunter clammed up, You fucking blew it, you idiot. He pressed his lips together in a line and took another swig of coffee, fearing whatever would come out of his mouth. He didn’t want to push her away. He was so close.

“Well, what about tonight then?” Hunter asked.

“What about tonight?” she asked, her brows furrowed, making a small indent between them.

“Since you have no Valentine’s Day plans, and neither do I… we could do something if you’d like?” Hunter's heart beat like a drum in his chest. He felt his biceps quivering with anxiety as Heather took in his question. It was now or never.

She pursed her lips and glanced out the window, thinking. Hunter watched as her tongue moved across her front teeth. He mimicked the same on his own.

“Look,” he started, after her silence was too much to bear, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even asked and put you on the spot like that.”

Heather released a sigh, “No, no. It’s really alright. I just don’t normally make it a habit of going out with someone I don’t know.”

“Well, ask me anything,” he replied, leaning back in his chair.

Heather shifted uncomfortably and eyed him up. Hunter's heart swelled as she looked him up and down, but he crossed his arms to keep a calm exterior.

“What’s your favorite color?” she asked.

“Easy, navy blue,” he said. “Yours?”

Magenta.

“Magenta,” she replied.

Knew it, he grinned. He had overheard her and another coworker making small talk the other day. Anytime he learned anything new about her, Hunter made sure to notate it in his head. He wanted to make sure the two of them were a perfect match, and he was sure they were.

“What kind of work are you in?” she asked. “You’re here so much on that laptop of yours, I assume it has something to do with that?”

“I work in tech,” he gave a half-assed answer. People normally didn’t need to know more than that. No one really cared about the specifics of tech unless they themselves had an interest in it.

“I’d ask you the same, but I think I know the answer,” he gave her a lopsided smile and she laughed with a nod.

“I suppose that’s right,” she bit her lip. “Um, well. I can’t think of much else to ask at this point.”

“You’ve satisfied your curiosity?”

“I think just about,” she nodded, turning away.

I've got to think of something quick, He thought to himself. Every second wasted was a second for her to get further away. To forget about his existence. This was the day he was going to win her over— he just needed to think!

“H-how’s Ginger?” he asked, and immediately his stomach sank.

“Ginger?” she asked.

Hunter tried to keep his calm but could feel the sweat filling his palms. He swallowed and smiled at her.

“Yeah, how is she?”

“Ginger?—My dog?” she asked. Her face grew red and she looked like she was about to bolt from the table. Hunter’s heart raced inside his chest.

“Yeah, how’s she doing?” he tried to keep his voice from shaking.

“How do you know my dog’s name? Or that I even have a dog?” she asked.

Her face was filled with fear. Terrified. Her eyes darted across the room, looking for an escape. But they both knew it was only them in the coffee shop. Hunter knew he had to calm her down if he still wanted the chance to speak with her. Or be with her.

“Y-you’ve talked about her. I’ve overheard conversations you’ve had with coworkers. I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to pry or anything.”

Heather took a deep breath to calm herself. A bell chimed behind them and a woman entered, quickly taking a seat at a nearby booth. Heather immediately stood up to take her order.

You fucked this up. You fucked everything up. Fix it! Fix it! FIX IT!

Hunter focused on the coffee in his hand, his hands shook as he raised the cup to his lips. He took another sip—cold. Heather’s scone sat, mostly uneaten, in front of him. The sugar crystals glisten on top like the soft snow outside.

When Heather had finished taking the woman’s order, she approached.

“All set, then?” she asked. Her customer service smile spread across her lips.

It’s fake. It’s all fake. But we are perfect for each other. I know that. I just need her to know that.

Hunter pushed his chair out from under the table, “I think so. Thanks for the scone, Heather. It was really great talking with you. And if you maybe wanted to meet up tonight. We could do something for Valentine’s Day—Even just as friends. ”

“I’m sorry, Hunter…” Heather said. He felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of his name coming from her lips. Hunter… Hunter… Hunter…

“Did you hear me?” she asked. Hunter realized he had not been listening to the rest of her sentence.

“I’m sorry, can you tell me again?”

She shook her head, “I appreciate the offer—I do— but I just have to decline.”

A wave of nausea swept over Hunter, “Of course, no problem…” he trailed off, turning himself towards the door. His body suddenly felt heavy and cold. I just have to decline, she said. Polite as always. The way she was always polite to customers. He was nothing but a patron to her. He wanted to spit at her perfect face— make her regret having him leave. Regret declining his offer for dinner tonight.

Hunter turned and stomped to the door, “Have a good day,” Heather called from behind, but he ignored her.

The bell chimed over the door, but nothing could be heard by him except her voice in his head over and over again.

Hunter… Hunter… Hunter…

***

Hunter walked home in record time. He needed time to think. Time to stew. To reflect on why he had failed, and how to win over Heather. He knew that the next time they talked, things would turn out differently.

He knew that Heather’s shift ended at 5:00 on the dot. She always left on time, leaving Bruce to close up the shop alone. And he knew that she lived within walking distance, only a mile or two away.

He didn’t know that because he had followed her home—that would be insane. No, they shared a few mutual friends on Facebook, and he checked out her page briefly. Just to see if she had a boyfriend— she didn’t— and to see if they had anything in common— they did. She just happened to post some pictures from a barbecue with some friends from a while back. He still thought sometimes about how much it hurt he had not been invited.

Hunter wanted to make the effort for her. She was his Madonna. Perfection made in the human form. He wouldn’t have thought it possible had he not witnessed her himself.

Even though today she had angered him. Embarrassed him. He would show her exactly the kind of man he was. The kind of man who cared for everything about her. The kind of man who would memorize the patterns in her eyes. The kind of man who would walk miles each night, hoping to declare his love for her outside the window.

His thoughts constantly circled around her. Every face in his dreams was hers, the voice that echoed over and over in his head, Hunter… Hunter… Hunter…

This all-consuming feeling was too much for him. It took over every facet of his life. There was nothing to be known beyond her. She was his life. His sole reason for living. He knew that she had to be his, as he was already hers.

The hours ticked by, and Hunter’s anxiety melted away into excitement. It’s a funny thing, anxiety. This emotion can trigger such an intense response in the body. Some people vomit from anxiousness, some find it hard to breathe, and others yet find their legs weak like jelly. A grown human will turn into a four-year-old the moment anxiety takes over. Like some sort of primitive or instinctual human response to fear. For Hunter, this anxiousness was just a taste of the excitement to come.

The two emotions are almost the same thing when it comes down to it. Hearts race, heads spin, stomachs lurch. How do we ever know when we are scared or simply… excited? Thrilled?

Hunter looked one last time into the mirror, his reflection staring back at him. He slicked his hair back and put on a new shirt. Tonight was not a night for t-shirts and jeans. Oh no, he was going to wear his absolute best. His red-striped button-up and navy pants were freshly ironed and fit exactly how he wanted them to. If this did not impress Heather, nothing would.

***

The flower shop down the street was bustling with life as folks tried to get their last-minute flowers for their partners. Hunter, at first, was going to pay no mind to such frivolous traditions, but decided in the end that flowers would go a long way in his apology— and hopefully date— tonight with Heather.

“Can I help you?” the old woman behind the counter asked. She wore a bright floral shirt with thick glasses. He smiled at her sweetly.

“Just here for some flowers.”

“The roses are in the case back there,” she pointed him directly behind where he stood, but Hunter shook his head.

“I was hoping for something more… magenta.”

***

Almost there. This is it. Hunter continued his pep talk the entire walk down the street. By now, it was 6:30, and Heather would be home and relaxing from work. Probably with a glass of her favorite New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc and old reruns of The Office. He wondered which of her favorite hoodies she would be wearing, the light blue or the dark gray.

He longed for what nights like that might look like with her. Heather’s head on his shoulder. The softness of her cheek against his hand. The feel of her lips…

He snapped himself out of the daydream as her house came into view. He stood himself up straight and cleared his throat before approaching the door. He noticed her white Honda in the driveway, so he knew she was home.

He shifted the pink flowers in hand, and he knocked.

No answer.

He knocked again.

“What the hell?” he said under his breath, shifting his weight under himself.

Before he could knock again, the door opened to reveal a tall man standing over him. His face was hard as stone, and his eyes bore into him. The man crossed his arms and looked Hunter up and down.

“What do you want?” he asked. Hunter tried to look inside for Heather, but the view was blocked. Hunter squeezed the stems of the bouquet tight and clenched his teeth. What the hell is this?

Hunter steadied his weight between both feet and stood straight, “I’m looking for Heather. We have a date tonight.”

The man laughed, “I don’t think so, buddy. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the fuck out of here.”

Anger coursed through Hunter’s veins like fire, warming him and giving him courage, “I don’t think you understand me.” He attempted to push past the man but was shoved backward. “I demand to speak with Heather!” he yelled.

“You’ve got three seconds to get off of this property, or I’m calling the police. Creep.”

Hunter shook his head, “No, no, no! You’ve got this all wrong!” he pleaded, “Let me talk to her, please. She has to understand.”

The man did not move. Hunter’s face began to swell and heat up, he snapped the stems of the flowers he was holding. This asshole just ruined my flowers! He tried to take a few calming breaths, but each one just fanned the embers that were burning in his chest. He threw the ruined flowers onto the concrete and stomped on them.

“Buddy,” the man said. “You’re starting to freak me out. I suggest you start walking, or you’re going to be leaving here in handcuffs.”

The man stepped forward, outside of the doorway in an attempt to intimidate Hunter. Standing in front of him though, Hunter realized he wasn’t much taller than him. In fact, they were the same size and evenly matched.

Then a realization hit Hunter.

This is a test. With this in mind, Hunter knew it was now or never. He had to defend her honor, and prove himself to be worthy of her love.

Filled with this revelation, he smiled.

And swung.

***

There wasn’t much that could be remembered before Hunter saw the flashing blue and red lights around him.

Bursts of memory came but were covered in a filmy haze that made it hard to decipher the truth. Or what reality was.

When he woke up, Hunter was on the ground in a pool of blood.

But it wasn’t his own.

“Have I won?” he asked. His speech slurred and his eyes felt heavy within their sockets—swollen possibly. His tongue flicked around the inside of his mouth and found a hole right along the front.

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself.

The lights continued to flash as shadows moved towards him. His stomach leaped inside his chest. Were they here to tell him that Heather was sorry? That she didn’t mean for her test to go like this? At this rate, they’d never make the reservations he had reserved last week for them.

Two shadows helped him off the ground and placed him on a long bench. Maybe a bed? It was hard to tell with all the noise and light around him.

“Hey, whaa…” he tried to speak, but his mouth felt like it was filled with cotton.

“He’s hit his head bad. Do you think the slurring is alcohol-induced?” a voice asked.

“Possibly. We heard from the other scene that the guy was in pretty rough shape, too.”

“H-Heath-Heather?!” Hunter tried to shout, wrestling the arms that now entangled him like vines.

“That’s enough out of you,” said one of the shadows.

A force slammed against his head before the world fell into darkness.

END

Thank you so much for reading my story! It means the absolute world to me that you'd take time out of your day to read what I have written.

This is only the beginning of Hunter and Heather's story. It is one small piece that is going to be part of a much larger collection of interweaving short stories detailing the multitude of ways that love is expressed—and sometimes feared.

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