9. The Boy with the Coffee Grinds and Valentines

"I never thought we'd actually end up in a coffee shop," Delilah admitted. 

Coldness erupted from the bottom of her jeans as she slid into the booth.  She wrapped her two hands around the steaming black coffee and held it close to her, sighing at the warmth wafting up her chin and kissing the tip of her nose. 

"Why did you invite me anyway?"

He sat opposite of her, putting his brown leather notebook on the table next to his jacket.  He pulled out a tape recorder and Delilah immediately leaned back, the cold leather sending a chill down her neck. 

She focused on one part of the shop, the third light bulb hanging above this couple. 

Her vision focused on the gold specks and honey coloured blurs of the light, resting her eyes as she tuned in her hearing.  The coffee grinded behind her, and the machine compressed and choked before hot liquid filled the emptiness of the cup.  A small ring went off every few seconds, shoes sliding against the rug before softly thumping up her side and halting after three steps.  Laughter flowed in the air, a soft jazz acoustic sending crisp waves between conversations. 

She gave herself to the sounds and rested among the peaceful place of the coffee shop.  She didn't know how long it lasted but she found a warmth envelop her fingers. 

Her gaze flickered away from the light and drifted to the five fingers cupping hers.  She looked up and faced the jawline of Ryland, his gaze focused in on the window. 

A small smile fought its way to her lips and she moved her gaze back to the light, it not the only warmth surging through her body now. 

They sat there until the sky was painted in black and the grind of coffee wasn't as often. 

The traffic simmered down like the temperature of her coffee and it wasn't until she snapped out of her daze when her lips met the bitter, cold taste. 

Her tongue smacked against the top of her mouth and with one hand, she embraced the bitter taste, liking the strange tang to it. 

Ryland's hand was back on his side of the table and he finally peeled his gaze off the window.  He clicked a button on the tape recorder and the tape stopped spinning. 

He pocketed the grey tape and stood, scooping his jacket off with him.  Delilah followed after, gulping down the rest of her coffee. 

They left the shop in silence as she tossed the cup, both admiring the clouds coming out of their mouths and shoes crunching in the thin layer of snow. 

They started walking.  Headlights shone on their backs and they kept walking until the lights went past their shadows, becoming bigger. 

Delilah turned around and saw the car cruise beside them.  The window rolled down and a dark figure stuck out of the window. 

Delilah squinted, unsure how what it was until it took her a good few seconds to figure it out.  She grabbed Ryland's shoulder and brought him down. 

It sounded like a firework. 

Ryland swore, holding onto his beanie but Delilah clutched his neck, pushing him forward to run. 

She glanced once more at the window, staring into the gun and then burst into speed down the sidewalk.  With his long strides, he matched her speed and they ran down the street, the car engine choking behind them as it began to pick up speed. 

Pain struck up her leg at the sudden sprint and she stumbled a bit, Ryland's hand on her back helping her forward. 

They rounded the corner, hearing the tires screech against the sloshy road, feeling the mud spray the back of their legs.  Delilah cut the corner, quickly cut another, diving into an alley. 

She grabbed the first door and opened it, a slight wash of relief leaking through before swallowed the rest of her.  Ryland's chest pressed against her back, leaning in to push her to go faster. 

They fell through the door, hearing the clang of metal and ring of the bell.  None of the staff glanced up from the stove, engrossed in their duties to notice the two teenagers. 

Delilah avoided the main kitchen aisles, searching for another door to escape the open room and found another. 

She pulled the big lever down and slipped past another door, Ryland squeezing in behind her.  The door closed behind them and coldness swept up her body. 

But they hardly minded as their hot blood and skin and racing hearts grasped their full attention.  "What the fuck was that?!" Ryland exclaimed. 

Delilah, still catching her breath, clutched her hamstring.  She seethed, the pulled muscle the one thing on her mind.  Her failed response forced him to raise his voice.  "Delilah!"

She clamped her hand over his mouth.  "They may be outside."

"Whose they?!"

Hunters.  Slayers.  Angel warriors.  Demonic bitches who want money.   

"I don't know."

Ryland pulled his phone out.  "We have to call the police."

Delilah snatched the phone out of his hand and stuffed it back in his pocket.  "You're not calling anyone." 

He shoved his hand in his pocket for the phone but Delilah gripped his wrist, keeping it there.  "Trust me."

"So you do know who those people were!" he shot. 

Well.  They could've been just those religious freaks.  Or they could actually be spiritual demons.  Technically—Delilah didn't know. 

"Just don't call anyone.  It's fine okay."

Ryland slammed his hand beside her ear, the smack off the wall making her flinch.  "Why are you lying?!  You want us to be friends yet you're keeping things from me.  What are you trying to do here?"

Delilah opened her mouth.  Closed it.  Opened.  "I'm sorry.  I-I just don't know, okay?  Can we forget about this?"

"I just got shot at!"  He narrowed his eyes.  "Do you owe people money?"

"No!"  She wanted to grab his head and shake it.  If he just remembered—he'd understand. 

"Then who were they?!"  The veins thickened down his neck and his features darkened, making Delilah feel small. 

"I don't know!" she screamed in his face. 

The wrinkles on his face let go, smoothening his face out more.  The silence made her want to shoot something.

Then he did the worse thing he could possibly do. 

Give her silence.  She wished he could just scream or throw a punch or kick the shelves but instead, he stared into her eyes.  His strong gaze felt like he could see right through her and straight to her thoughts. 

She didn't like saying sorry. 

She kept quiet too, telling herself that the silence ate into his heart like it did to hers.  But she knew the confusion and fury stirring in his system had no room for pain or hurt. 

"They're probably the people who attacked Melon Head and I," she quietly said.  It wasn't an entire lie.  They could've been.  It was dark out and the windows were tinted so it wouldn't be her fault if she was wrong. 

He kept staring at her in silence and she uncomfortably squirmed on the spot.  "It would make sense.  They were probably the ones who painted the blood on the windows.  The idea of them wanting to kill me doesn't sound so crazy." 

He swallowed, and she watched his Adam Apple bob.  "I guess that makes sense."  He paused.  "And if it was, we should report it.  The town would be grateful if we told them one of their citizens are committing crimes like this."

"Wait!"  She scrambled her mind for another excuse.  Seconds burned through the silence before she luckily caught another excuse.  "Isn't the town council full of Catholics?  And so far, very religious people have been attacking me so it wouldn't make sense to accuse someone of their...kind."

Ryland nodded and took his hand out of his pocket.  "Fine."  He eyed her and she felt the sharpness of his gaze poke her skin.  She tried to hide her squirm.  "But if I find out you're hiding things from me, know I'm not easy to forgive."

She nodded, afraid she'd say something wrong. 

They rested in a less tense silence. 

The chill finally stuck to her skin, sending the hairs on her skin standing up.  The chill snuck up her back and through her sleeves, downing her in this wave of coldness. 

"I think we're safe now."  She noticed her breath coming out in clouds and clutched her arms. 

Ryland nodded and she put a hand on the knob before he slapped it away.  He grumbled something like "Let me do it" and pushed the door open, creaking it open only a bit. 

He first took a look with one eye and then poked the rest of his head out. 

Delilah stood behind him, rubbing her arms and relieved a sigh once he slipped out.  She followed, as she copied his casual stroll through the kitchen. 

Ryland moved towards the door they came through but she tugged his jacket, steering him out of the kitchen and into the pub.  "We should exit in a more busy area, in case they're waiting for us in that alley," she whispered.

He nodded and she snaked through the kitchen, both of them keeping their head low.  They pushed the swinging doors and exited into the pub. 

The loud music shook her heart and the clink of beer bottles and shouts of people surrounded her.  She guided them out of the pub and into the night, the coldness returning. 

They escaped out the door and she heard the sound of their boots crunch against the light layer of snow. 

"We don't bring this topic up again," Delilah said.

"So this is like the Fight Club?"  Amusement laced through his tone, weaving into Delilah's heart and warming it again.

"Sure."

He nodded.  "First rule of the fight club.  Don't talk about the fight club."

She bitterly smiled.  "Exactly."

He walked Delilah home, embracing the comforting silence with her. 

She walked straight to the lobby of Paris's apartment, and he walked her to the elevator, the heat of the apartment sneaking under their clothes and easing their skin into this blanket of warmth. 

He stood by the elevator, waiting for it with her. He seemed lost in space, gaze anywhere but on her. 

A soft ping went off and Delilah slung her fingers into the gate, pulling it aside to open the elevator doors.  It groaned as it slide open. 

Delilah told her feet to move.  But she stayed still and slowly drew her face to Ryland.  He turned towards her face and the tension between them grew. 

For a moment nothing happened.  Then he leaned in.  She leaned in.  He drew a little closer.  She put up her pinky.  "Swear on the Fight Club not to tell a soul?"

That crooked smile rested on his lips.  "Promise."  They hooked pinkies and shook on it. 

She dropped their hands and stepped into the old elevator, the metal creaking at the sudden weight.  Ryland closed the gate doors, seeing her through the metal shaped diamonds.  She clicked the button and the elevator chugged and choked before it began slowly moving. 

Delilah watched him remain below as she went up.  She lifted her hand and waved.  He lifted his hand and waved too, watching her leave; her face disappearing and then her shoulders, waist and finally she was gone. 

Once he was out of ear shot, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and clutched onto the elevator doors for support.  She told herself to breath, and as soon as she got out, she nearly fell through the doors and straight to the door. 

Unlocking the door, she stumbled into the living and quickly kicked off her shoes.  She heard the T.V. on, ignoring the voices of Paris and HB on the coach and just realized the sound of a whistle and cheering fans. 

Football night was the only thought. 

Then she kept running to her room and slammed the door behind her.  Shutting everything out.  Shutting out Ryland.  Shutting out the hunters.  Shutting out the consequences chasing her down. 

She burrowed the questions burning through her brain, too tired to run any logic and dropped her coat on the ground, stepping on it as she walked over. 

She decided she had enough of the silence for one night. 

She cranked the nob on her stereo and filled her room with some band that HB insisted she listened to.  She didn't mind as this music soothed her. 

For seven sins, that was the most fantastic thing about music.  No matter what universe, world or galaxy you're in, music still carried that same power to change your mood.  It was magical like that. 

If only she could use music to solve all her problems.

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