78: Coffee Shop Woes

Inho left the lecture hall feeling wrung dry. Despite being stressed and upset, the test had gone fine. Not because he’d studied well (though he had) but because he’d learned English as a child and despite his accent, he spoke it near perfectly.

If he hadn’t just gotten in a fight with Jasmine, the test would have gone better, but the entrance standards for this school weren’t that high anyway. Tired and lacking any sense of accomplishment, he slogged to the campus cafe to try and figure out a way home.

He sipped on an Americano, sugarless and bitter as his mood, and considered how he’d fucked up. After some time to cool down, he was realizing he’d overreacted with Jasmine. Sure, she was being too pushy about his relationship, but she only had an opinion because she cared. If Inho didn’t matter to her, neither would Stephen’s cheating. He’d definitely been wrong to drag her relationship into it.

He was such an idiot, always reacting so harshly, poisoning his relationships. He took off his toque and scrubbed his fingers through his hair in guilty frustration. No wonder things were a mess with Stephen. His head was starting to ache from stress. He missed Stephen so much.

Inho pulled his hat back on hard, as if he could hide inside it, then slowly peeled it up to look at his phone. He was trying to figure out the transit system to get home when the cafe door swung open, letting in a gust of chill air and a small group of students in their late teens.

Inho glanced at them indifferently, then back to his phone before his head whipped up in a double-take. One slim figure in the group had frozen in place while the others wandered up to the counter to start making orders. Connor stood by the door staring at him.

Inho grimaced, then rearranged his face into a semblance of a smile and nodded awkwardly in greeting. Connor didn’t reply, just continued studying him with an unreadable expression.

“Connor what’s wrong?” a blonde girl asked him, turning away from the counter, “Do you know him?”

Connor nodded, “Yeah, give me a sec.” The girl shrugged, then eyed Inho curiously. Connor walked over to Inho’s table, moving stiffly like a nervous animal. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

Inho sighed, Connor was literally the last and most annoying person he wanted to see in his current mood, “I had a test,” he answered, praying Connor would just leave. Connor pulled out the chair on the other end of the table.

“The English test?” he asked, sitting down uninvited.

Inho grit his teeth, “Yeah, the English test. The one all international students take. Got something to say about it?”

Connor’s lips twisted, ‘Nope. Hope it went well.”

Inho studied him, waiting for some sort of barbed comment to follow. Connor looked blandly back at him with the same ice blue eyes as Stephen, making Inho’s chest squeeze. “Why are you here?” Inho asked at long last, “I didn’t know you went to this school.”

“I do, for my first year of university… It’s close to home.”

Connor clearly was building up to say something, but before he could, two of his friends joined them, “Hello,” the blonde girl said to Inho, then nudged Connor, “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“No, it’s fine can you give me a minute?” Connor looked annoyed. To spite him, Inho reached his hand out to the girl, then her friend.

“Hey, I’m Inho,” he said with a warm smile, “I’ll be a student here soon, too.” The girl and her friend each shook his hand and blushed slightly at the formality, “Do either of you happen to know how to get back to Vancouver from here? I can’t figure out the buses.”

“Oh, I don’t know if you can,” The pair pulled up seats, and a third teen, a boy this time, joined them silently.

The three of them googled and fussed and eventually advised that it would be quite difficult to get home via transit. Connor just watched Inho through all this, and when silence fell, he asked, “Why don’t you just ask my uncle to pick you up?”

Inho shrugged, covering his discomfort with a sip of his americano.

“What? How does he know your uncle? The one in Vancouver?” Connor’s friend asked, confused.

“They’re dating,” Connor answered casually, then froze when he saw Inho’s shocked expression. He flushed, red flooding up from his chest, “I’m going to go order,” he announced suddenly and abandoned Inho with his friends.

They looked at him curiously, “Are you gay then?” One of the girls asked.

Coming out at school was not one of Inho’s current plans, and he silently cursed at Connor. “I, um–”

Glass shattered over at the counter and they all spun to look. Connor had dropped a mug, splattering his leg with hot coffee. The barista rushed around to make sure he wasn’t hurt.

“It’s okay I’m fine,” He accepted a towel to dry his pants, “Guys, we should go. We’ll be late for lecture.” The others stood, distracted from their questions and joined him, murmuring goodbyes to Inho. When they reached the door, Connor spun and came back to the table, “Give me your number,” He demanded, “Please.” He passed Inho his phone.

Stunned, Inho complied then watched him leave. Nearly as soon as Connor was out of sight his phone buzzed with a message: Sorry about stuff. Good luck getting home. Make Stephen come get you.

Inho shook his head, bewildered. Then sucked in a deep breath as if he were about to dive underwater, and followed Connor’s advice.

Stephen picked up on the first ring.