Sylvan Esso - Coffee

“Hello?”, I croaked, half asleep and disoriented.

There had been way too many glasses of wine and champagne consumed at the party, my head pounding and spinning as the remaining alcohol wreaked its havoc. Looking at the clock I saw it was almost ten in the morning and that Will, as usual, had left without saying goodbye.

“Hey,” Rose also was croaky but for an entirely different reason, her flu making her suffer for a third day.

“When you come see me can you bring some chicken soup from that delicatessen you get coffee from? It’s the only thing I can think about facing to eat.”

I sat and rubbed my eyes. I’d completely forgot that I was meant to go and cheer her up; the one saving grace was that at least she wouldn’t be up to doing much.

“Sure, not a problem, I’ll be there in an hour or so.”

“Thank you, you’re the best! Oh, and you can tell me the rest about your night with Mr. Styles.”

My cheeks flushed briefly at the memory of talking to Harry Styles the previous night, worried by how rude I had been and how I’d almost let the free bar get the better of me and have me fall for his smooth talking.

After a quick shower I felt a little better; my stomach churned still and the sunshine as I stepped outside made my retinas feel like they were on fire, but the walk to where I usually got breakfast and coffee wasn’t as painful as I thought it was going to be.

“A coffee, a hot chocolate with everything and a large chicken soup to go please, thanks!”

I managed a weak smile to the girl behind the counter and she looked like she was more hungover than I was, so there was a brief moment of solidarity.

“Layla?”

I froze and prayed I’d misheard my name.

“Hey!”

The hand on my elbow I couldn’t ignore.

Turning around I met with the person I least wanted to see at this moment; my brunette hair was a tangled, damp mess on top of my head, I still had remnants of last night’s make up on and I was wearing a paint splattered denim shirt and jogging bottoms with a hole in the knee. I was ‘a movie marathon with my ill friend while I ate an entire pack of chocolate hobnobs’ dressed, not ‘meet the hot boybander who drunkenly tried to chat me up last night’ dressed. Harry gave a toothy grin then leaned in to kiss my cheek, and I heard my hungover sister behind the counter yelp but ignored her despite the urge to turn around and launch into a huge explanation that this wasn’t what it looked like.

“Hey, you! What a surprise.”

I wanted to run, but Rose needed her soup and I sure as hell needed my coffee.

“Do you live nearby?”

“No, I’m here with some friends.” He pointed to a table of people who were all young and famous in one way or another: a DJ, a model and an it girl, and I felt even more like I should have passers by throwing change at me. “I needed coffee and breakfast after last night.”

He wore sunglasses but his lopsided smile said everything: he’d had too much to drink and he was mortified by the old bird he’d tried to pull.

“Yes, same here.”

On cue, my name was called and my order arrived.

“I’m taking soup to a friend. That’s why I look like crap”, I added a little too quickly.

Picking up my things from the counter and paying for them I expected Harry to say goodbye and rejoin his friends, but he remained in front of me, all hair, skinny jeans and tattoos.

“You look lovely”, he said and he his bottom lip gently and a jolt hit me. I pictured myself biting that bottom lip before I could stop myself and the urge to run grew stronger.

“Well, Harry, it was nice seeing you again. I better get these things to my friend before they get cold. Bye!”

Dodging past him and heading straight for the door I heard him say goodbye, his voice as cheerful as his low tone could sound.

Luckily I had a key to let myself into Rose’s flat.

“I’m surprised you haven’t got a red X on the door and a sign saying ’Unclean’”, I teased, finding Rose wrapped up in bed wearing a cow onesie with the hood up looking like death warmed over. “I got you soup and a hot chocolate.”

“You are literally the best person I know, thank you so much”, she whined turning up the pathetic level up a notch.

“I also got you a bunch of magazines, fashion ones, the ones where the mum is married to her daughter’s ex boyfriend and some gossip ones too, all the boxes! Uh…what else…”

Throwing the highbrow reading selection on the bed I’d spotted Harry on the cover, questioning if he was still secretly dating some American pop singer, realising how stupid I was that I even cared for a second, I gathered my thoughts. “There’s also a ton of fruit, chocolate, milk and tissues.”

“You’re amazing!” Rose’s gratitude was somewhat halfhearted as she’d noticed the magazine too. “You should have asked him! I think they’re still dating, look,” she pointed at a picture of Harry and the pretty, petite blonde having dinner in a restaurant I knew well and often went to with Will for business dinners. “That was last week! They say they’re friends, but I dunno.”

I rolled my eyes, feigning disgust at the whole thing. “I’m going to let you off for caring about such drivel because you’re sick! Who cares?!”

“I’m so sick!” Suddenly remembering how rubbish she felt, Rose rolled herself back up in her quilt and let the magazine fall to one side.

“Right, what first? Dirty dancing or Pretty in Pink?”

Notes