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In those first few weeks of the pandemic I was just about existing, bored and lonely and not quite sure what to do. About a month or so into the whole thing, I’d realised I’d run out of coffee. This called for immediate action. Virus or not, I could not survive another day without a caffeine hit. Not even the thought that there might be rabid flesh eating zombies out there could keep me from that. Double espressos were the only thing getting me through this shit. Double-masked, I threw on my jacket and ventured into the great unknown.
An eerie quietness hung over the supermarket. Stepping inside, I was relieved to have missed the worst of it. It didn’t look like the end of days just yet. Dull eyed people wandered past but no one stopped to make conversation or complain about the price of milk. Everyone was on a mission; to get in and out of there as quickly as they could. I shuffled round the aisles, contemplating the empty shelves, wondering if there was any caffeine in carrots. That’s when I saw it – the last packet of coffee. My pulse flipped; it had been more than two hours since my last hit. Not good. I just had to have it.
I reached out, but before I could grab it, a hand came out of nowhere and swiped it away from me. In that microsecond, long fingers grazed mine, making me reel back as if I’d been electrocuted.
‘That was mine!’ I protested.
Maybe if I hadn’t looked into his eyes I would have been ok. I should’ve let it go, let him have it. Too late.
‘Oh really?’
He was smiling, a cute grin that etched deep lines around his eyes. He had that scruffy, just got out of bed look that could’ve been the result of days of self-isolation or could’ve been his normal everyday look. It was hard to tell these days as we were all approaching varying levels of dishevelment. Anyway, it looked good on him; the battered leather jacket, plaid shirt and faded jeans. The grey stubble on his jawline just ready to be scratched. I must’ve been staring but I couldn’t stop. Just leave it, I told myself. But I knew I wouldn’t.
‘Please,’ I was prepared to beg. I could already feel the beginning of a headache. ‘I really need it.’
He stayed silent for a second, passing the packet from one hand to another, all the while never taking his eyes off me.
‘Me too.’ he finally said, with only the slightest hint of neediness in his voice.
I would never have thought he was having caffeine withdrawals, he looked too steady, too calm, if a little tired. I imagined he already had a caffeine stash back home and was wondering if I could follow him and blag my way in to steal some.
‘Please,’ I said again, trying to hide the tremor in my voice.
‘How about we share it then?’ he suggested and all I could do was nod, too eager to consider what this might mean.
He had a nice place. Not too big, not too small, decor just on the right side of minimalist.
‘So how are we gonna do this?’ He asked. His voice was low and husky and for a moment I forget we were talking about coffee. My bewilderment about the turn of events had left me dumb, so for once in my life I wasn’t sure what to say.
‘Want a coffee first, before we get down to business?’
I was itching to get home, but I was also desperate for coffee, so I just shrugged, sitting down at the breakfast bar while he made a brew.
‘You’re not from around here, are you?’
He was making conversation now? I wished he would just hurry up. In my head I was figuring out how to get to the other supermarkets in town, how long it would take to drive to them and praying to all the gods I knew that they wouldn’t already have sold out of coffee before I got a chance to raid them.
‘No,’ I muttered. ‘How did you know?’
‘The accent. I love an English accent.’
There was that smile again. Ugh. I wish he wouldn’t do that, it made all the sensible thoughts in my head evaporate into thin air.
We sat and drank coffee in his living the room, the large windows looking out onto the bright afternoon sky. He led most of the conversation, his charm and easy way eventually making me relax so much I soon forgot why I was there. We had a lot in common; we liked the same movies, the same books and films. We’d both been stranded from our families by this pandemic. It was only as the light began to dim and I could hardly see his face that I realised how long I’d been there, and how much coffee we must have drunk.
‘I should go.’ I said, standing up.
As I got my bag, he stood up too and though I could barely see him, I could feel his warm breath close to me. He didn’t say a word.
‘Sorry for drinking all your coffee,’ I stumbled for some words to fill the silence.
‘That’s ok,’ he said. ‘I have plenty.’
I could hear the smile in his words even in the darkness. For some reason, this didn’t make me as angry as I thought it would and I felt no need to make a snarky comment.
‘Maybe I’ll come back then.’
My boldness surprised me, but the twilight covered any embarrassment.
‘I’d like that,’ he replied. ‘I’d like that a lot.’
At first I visited every couple of days, then every day until I spent most of my time at his apartment. After a couple of weeks Pedro suggested I move in. He said he didn’t like the thought of me out there all alone, worrying about me kept him awake at night. In normal times I would have laughed at the cheesiness of it all and run a mile, but this time it felt different. It felt right.
The next few weeks flew by. Pedro made me feel at home and we soon fell into a routine, staying up late talking for hours about anything and everything, dancing breathlessly to 80s music or curled up on the sofa watching movies together. I loved getting up late, being greeted with the sight of a bare chested Pedro in the kitchen cooking pancakes. It was all so natural I never gave it a second thought when I realised I was falling in love with him. Sometimes I thought I caught him looking at me and wondered if maybe he felt the same but I was too scared to say anything, fearful of bursting our bubble. I had no one else in LA; if this ended badly I’d be alone again.
One evening we were eating take out in front of the TV, watching the news. Even though most days it was unbearable, we watched anyway, hoping for a light at the end of the tunnel.
‘Can we turn that off?’ Pedro huffed. He had a scowl on his face I’d not seen before.
He’d been quiet all day, pacing up and down the living room, then spending five minutes reading a script only to throw it down again and leave the room. I clicked off the TV and we sat in silence for a while, just eating our sushi. I’d never known Pedro to be this subdued and it hurt my heart. He gulped down his beer, barely touching his food.
‘Do want another one?‘ I asked, rising to go to the kitchen.
He shook his head.
‘I think I’m going to have an early night.’
He stood up, hesitating for a moment as if he was going to say something. I watched him go and wondered what I had done wrong.
Sleep eluded me that night. I battled with the sheets until finally I admitted defeat and got up to get a glass of water. Standing by the window, I looked out into the night as if there was an answer there. I had no idea what I should do. I could only conclude that I’d overstayed my welcome and Pedro was too polite to say so. That’s got to be it, I thought. I’ll pack by bags and leave first thing tomorrow. I stood that way for a while, so deeply lost in thought and regret that I didn’t hear Pedro until he was right beside me.
‘Pedro!’ I exclaimed.
My heart rattled in my chest, blood rushing in my ears. He didn’t say a word, just stood calmly next to me looking out into the night. It seemed as we were both waiting for something, perhaps something to break the spell of the last few weeks. Surreptitiously, I examined his profile, lingering over his beautiful nose and lips. How many times in my dreams had I imagined that mouth on mine?
‘Y/F/N.’ He turned to me as he spoke and even in the dark I could feel his intense gaze on me. We stood face to face for what seemed like minutes but could only have been a few seconds. And then he kissed me.
I got to my feet, my shadow moving over him, resisting the urge to place my hands on his hot skin. He slept on, turning over onto his side. I wanted to wake him, to tell him I was leaving. I could stay, of course. Be his friend, lover and companion, not just during this terrible time but for the rest of our lives. He had asked me to stay so many times. Every time I checked the news to look at the death rates for the day, he’d say Stay, it’s not safe out there. Whenever I tried to find out if the airports had reopened and I’d be able to fly home again, he’d look at me with those puppy dog eyes and ask me for just another day, another week. But I knew I couldn’t stay when we had only been drawn together because of the circumstances. It couldn’t last.
I dressed quickly, careful not to make a noise. Gathering my things, I took one last look at his sleeping form. For a moment I felt rooted to the spot, as if there was a physical barrier preventing me from leaving. The urge to climb back into bed beside him felt like a living, breathing thing inside my soul. I quashed it quickly, wiping the tears away from my face.
‘Goodbye,‘ I whispered and I stepped out into the night.