Superstitious
Prologue

Present day:

I knew I was in trouble when he uttered in his slightly accented English the dreaded sentence: Miranda, we need to talk. Being naïve and in love – or lust (it really doesn’t matter anymore, does it?), I excited agreed to meet with him before history class. Now, as I sit before him in a dimly lit Starbucks, I wish I had been preoccupied in the shower, on the toilet – anything to have had avoided his phone call. But I hadn’t and I agreed to meet with him. And because of the invention on the telephone, I was now getting dumped. I cursed Graham Bell even though I knew it was stupid of me to blame him for the break-up.

“What’s there to talk about?” I asked, hoping he didn’t know that I know what was about to happen.

I sipped my peppermint mocha slowly – the only coffee drink I care for and watched Jude as he sighed and glanced at the checker board table before looking back at me.

“Randy,” he started, using the nickname he thought I loved but I really hated. “I think you’re great. I really do.”

“Thanks,” I answered dryly.

His sky-blue eyes hardened and I knew then that he knew that I knew that I was about to get dumped. There was now no excuse to stay polite. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s get ready to rumble.

If only I had the guts.

“I think you’re great,” he repeated, “but we’re not great together… anymore.”

I then took another long sip of my coffee while I tried desperately to think of a witty comeback. When I came up blank, I then tried to avoid eye contact to keep from looking pitiful. That didn’t work when he lowered his head and caught my eyes.

“Randy, I think we should break up,” he said ever so slowly, as if I were slow in the head.

I didn’t say anything back just yet – I refused to. Instead, I stared at him. I stared at his perfect face – his brilliant blue eyes, his thin lips, strong jaw and dirty blonde hair and contemplated. After a minute, still no comeback but I did come the conclusion that even though I hate him at the moment, Jude was pretty damn good looking. I then took another minute to contemplate whether or not to throw what was left of my coffee at him. I didn’t because I was practically done and the coffee had already gotten lukewarm.

“Randy?” he asked when I still hadn’t said anything.

“I hate the name Randy and my name is Miranda,” I said before getting up from my seat.

It wasn’t much of a comeback, I know, but watching Jude squirm, if only for a second, was worthwhile enough for me.

As I started for the exit, he got up from his seat also but didn’t come after me.

“Miranda, are you okay?” I heard him call out.

I ignored him and stepped out of the thick Starbucks atmosphere of chatty college students, jazz music and thick whiffs of cappuccino, grateful for the open air and sun. The relationship lasted just six months but I know the pain over losing my first foreign boyfriend will come soon enough. Most possibly tonight, while I sit alone in my room on a Friday night watching “The Princess Bride” for the fiftieth time. And I blame the stupid ladder for my recent string of bad luck.

A/N: I couldn’t wait to start this story, so here is “Superstitious” while “You Say Stay” is still in the works. I really do intend to finish both. Wish me luck. ( ;