ari devar

“I didn’t. Gadsden Girls lost out to uh, Permafrost,” Theo’s nose wrinkled. “Don’t know what it was about zombies that year, but it sure made me wanna write a better book so…”  he trailed off, considering that he might just need to write something out of spite again. Seemed a little trite but maybe he’d give it a real shot. Forever and a Day had turned out to be one of his favorites. His companion’s suggestion earned a bit of a blank stare, having sidetracked Theo’s original thought process. “If my parents thought I was in a slump they’d be supportive, but I think they’re a little, uh, too sympathetic, a little biased since they’ve never been short on material to write about themselves. My mom’s put out a book of poetry every eighteen months like clockwork since I was eleven. My dad just alternated between books and scripts until he decided to retire. I don’t think we really do mediocrity. S’alright, though, I kinda like the eventualities. Even if it takes me a couple decades I’ll write something, probably.” Theo was slightly less cheerful, but he was warming up more and more. He gestured vaguely towards the counter, since he hadn’t bothered to look at the menu yet at all. 

He hadn’t really meant to touch on a sore subject, the question had just tumbled out. Ari was a little worried he might be depressing him, making him dwelling on his lost award, but it could be that Theo was already as low as he could go, on an average day. He seemed comfortable with his own gloom, if a bit resigned to it---and Ari could relate to that. “They sound intense, your parents. And bookish. Not always a bad thing, but I guess you get a different perspective if your goals are to contribute literal books to the world.” His own parents weren’t particularly inclined towards the arts, so he had to figure that the pressure Theo was feeling was one Ari wouldn’t be familiar with. He didn’t actually know what his family would think if he took up literature, as he hadn’t told them he was inclined to it. But maybe there was something to pick up, from a near-award-winning author? “Did you just follow their footsteps, then? Or is it like, a “true calling” for you---uhh...” He belatedly realized he was at the counter, and redirected his attention briefly to the person behind it. “One... black coffee, and whatever he’s having” he said, his mind still focused on his new companion. “Please and thanks,” he added, scrabbling for his wallet.

Cleo couldn’t say anything to that because she’d have to admit that if she did he wouldn’t have liked her. It wasn’t a question to Cleo, it was something she knew. It didn’t matter anymore though, if Ari knew her now or not, because she didn’t care if he liked her now, but she didn’t want him to know how important it was to her before. Her silence was filled in with shouts of ‘UNO!’ and ‘FUCKING JAARED.’ But what Ari said after and the tone he’d taken made Cleo’s hostility lower just a little too. “We spent a year not talking about it.” Her eyes were back on the game at hand. “If you never want to talk about it, we don’t have to.” The words were said almost empty because Cleo didn’t know which she preferred, so she defaulted on her neutral bland tone.

The fact that this confrontation was happening here, and now---with fucking Jared, whoever he was, owning the table nearby at Uno---it was all emphasizing that they’d never be a picture-perfect fantasy together. “You wanna talk, we can do that. But I think you had the right idea. I’d like to drink a little more before that happens.” On queue, he spotted someone’s abandoned beer bottle, and scooped it up. “And maybe go somewhere less fucking distracting.” Yeah, he swore at her. He swore a lot more now. Maybe they’d both been different people this whole time, had she thought of that? He tipped back the bottle. There was nothing in it. He pretended to swallow, and tried not to think of the bacteria that might be clinging to the rim. Hopefully she was impressed---or disgusted, he’d take it. Right now, he just wanted any sort of genuine reaction from her. Something that didn’t totally dismiss him.

Crossing her arms, defensively, Cleo bit her tongue and turned her head as Ari went on. He was being a fucking asshole, but he wasn’t fucking wrong, and Cleo hated to be hearing it. “Shut up, Ari,” Cleo snapped back, her voice quieter than his, but with just as much bite. “That’s not your dream because you don’t know me. You never knew me.” That was the only leverage Cleo had, whether he knew it or not. And she was very upset that he downed the drink she’d given him because she wanted to be downing it, but at the same time, it would’ve contradicted her first comment that she didn’t need to. Bullshit always backfired on her, but whatever. “You’re right, though.” Her hands dropped and she faced him. “This is definitely the happiest I would have co-existed if it was with you.”

After everything, if that was her defense? He couldn’t handle taking the blame on that one. “If I never knew you, who’s fault is that? You had three years to show me any side of you that you felt like, Cleo.” And would’ve had more, if he’d been able to stick it out. He’d loved her, completely, no matter what she acted like, that wouldn’t have changed anything for him. Now that fact just made the sting even worse, hearing her trying to undo all of their time together. He didn’t know where he’d gone wrong, really, just that he’d felt shut out, pushed further and further from her, after the proposal incident. 

“I always wanted to know you.” His voice was softer when he said that. A small, traitorous part of him still wanted that. Instead of saying that though, he looked away, eyes searching for more alcohol even though the first drink hadn’t hit yet. Maybe she’d had the right idea for tonight, all along. “Why are we even talking about this now?” he asked aloud. They were never going to invite him to another party, that’s for sure, whoever ‘they’ were. 

Nathan wasn’t usually one to eavesdrop but with the rather lively phone call the other man had just hung up on had definitely sparked his attention - and frankly, not just his. It seemed like a few people nearby had turned their heads for a moment but stupidly enough, Nathan hadn’t been subtle enough and had met the guy’s eyes right away. “The laundry though, huh?” He joked, feeling a little caught off-guard from when the stranger addressed him so he was trying to play it off. A laugh escaped him and he held up his hands in defense. “I mean, I gotta say, I didn’t hear the whole thing but it sure sounds like you could use something spiked,” he said before raising a brow. “A strong coffee might help as well though and I was actually headed to get one, too.”

Still feeling the prickles of self-consciousness on the back of his neck, Ari forced a small grin to the stranger, and nodded. “Well, I feel like I owe you, for making you listen to part of a soap opera. Or, I’m trying to buy your silence about it---either way, I’m buying, if you want.” He nodded, the decision made, and headed towards the entrance to the cafe, holding the door for the other man. He assumed that he’d been going in this particular shop, or else this was going to be super awkward in just a minute. “It’s probably too early to spike it,” he added, a little wistfully. He wasn’t usually a big drinker, but some days felt like they should be exceptions where his coping mechanisms were concerned.

“Nah, it’s been like twenty minutes.” Dakota leaned over the counter to extend it closer to him. “Worst case, I’ll make them another.” The corner of her mouth curved up in response regardless, “Though, I have to admire your moral compass, it’s very encouraging on a Thursday morning. If you want I can make this a caramel latte, I’m feeling pretty generous.”

“Thanks. I try to have some kind of moral philosophy, even at the end of the work week,” he said, offering her a grin as he stood and went to pick up the drink. “Oh, that’s okay. I’m not really big into the sugar unless it’s like... four in the morning and I’m meeting a deadline,” he confessed, a little sheepish at how true that was. “I try to save the chocolate and caramel for when it really helps, you know.”

The order seemed to shake Ari out of whatever weirdness he had, but his normalcy– Or probably his disagreeability, kind of pissed her off. Her offer had been a kind olive branch and like an ingrate, he refused it. She couldn’t help the feeling that he’d thrown rejection right at her face again, same as last time. “Fine. Then by all means, enjoy the night, steal my friends, and if you want my job too, I could probably resign on Monday.” Didn’t care he hadn’t planned this, didn’t care he was joking. As the person who broke up with the other, he was on a pedestal higher than her that let him joke about it and she needed to bring him back down to her level. “And did you want my house key or did you already get a copy in the mail before you moved here?”

The immaturity stung, not because his feelings were hurt by it, but because now it appeared she had so much to say---whereas before, talking about actual important shit had been like pulling teeth. Even when he’d broken things off, she’d barely said a word about it, just shoved his belongings into his arms and and pushed her feelings away. And he’d accepted that. He felt his temper rise up. “I’d love your house key, and your job, and all your shitty friends.” A few looks were shot his way, but he didn’t care at all. “My dream is to have my life completely intertwined with yours---didn’t work so well the first time, but sure. Let’s make a second go of it right here, beside the chips and dip.” He was pissed, because he’d been perfectly fine just leaving, and now he was angry, and confused, and he felt like a jerk, like his hurt wasn’t valid next to hers, and he didn’t even have a---oh, right. He did have a drink. On that thought, he picked up her discarded cup and downed the whole thing. It tasted like sugary lighter fluid. “Look at us, happily co-existing already.” 

“Oh, I came home because I’m a hack.” If this guy could have a pretty positive attitude about his whole shtick, so could Theo. “Theo Garza, former Bram Stoker award nominee. But I haven’t written in–” he paused to let out a low whistle as he opened the cafe door for his new friend to pass. “Months if you count half-hearted attempts, but my last book was published in 2017. I’m planning to adopt a hermitage in the house where I was born until I produce something else of value, or I die.” His eyes scanned the menu as they approached the line, hands slipping into his pockets.

Ari grinned. He could appreciate a dramatic over-achiever, even if it seemed like Theo was probably a little too versed in sarcasm for his own good. At least he didn’t take himself too seriously. “Former nominee---” he mused, thoughtfully. “As in, you didn’t win, or you did? Both would make you a former nominee, technically speaking, but if it’s the second one that’s one hell of a humble-brag,” he explained. “I’m just trying to gauge what sort of celebrity I’m dealing with here, you understand.” Then he cocked his head. “But... productivity or death, huh? No pressure there, right? Does that actually help you write, the overwhelming expectation? That always shot me in the foot when I was in college. Why not aim for mediocrity like the rest of us learn to?”

Cleo had taken his response, understandingly, but then Ari was apologizing for it, and that’s when her brows raised. She knew she was being difficult, definitely colder than he was used to. She figured he was right to be a little hateful back. As he watched her face, Cleo really didn’t offer him anything back, only still reeling with mild curiosity about how uncomfortable he was looking and feeling. It was like they’d time-traveled to the future right after their break-up and nothing had changed — Cleo was being icy and Ari was…Like that. Part of her liked the dominance she had that had him leaving the get together on account of her, but another part was annoyed. She wasn’t pussying out and he shouldn’t either. Ari had to see how fucking fine Cleo was without him. “You just got here. If you don’t want to get fucked up, then buy me tacos at the Taco Truck nearby.” Cleo told him, jerking her head towards the door.

It shouldn’t surprise him, that attitude. He was aware that Cleo was... generally a bit of an acquired taste, for most people. Even though she’d shown a different side when they’d been together, didn’t mean that was going to be revealed through sympathy now. Or, apparently, self-preservation, as she didn’t seem to take the out he provided. He gave her a slightly puzzled look, but only coughed a small laugh when she demanded tacos. “You’re totally capable of getting your own food. I draw the line at becoming anyone’s taco mule, when I just came here to play Uno with the hipsters.” He did have a shred of self-respect left, but it felt bolstered by the fact that he could now shoot down her requests without feeling like a shitty boyfriend. ‘Cause he wasn’t a boyfriend, shitty or otherwise, anymore. “If I stay, I stay to make fun of people in my head and lose at cards, nothing more.”

“ Y’know, I wouldn’t really try it. Pissing the kids off ain’t really worth it when those bubble things turn disgusting quicker than you’d think. ”, he countered with his own spin on the situation, sparing a moment to look inside at a group of said teenagers sat inside, only to see them looking back already as if they’d heard him. “ I am banned in all Starbucks nationwide ”, Beck admitted, casually (maybe too much so, given the inconvenience it brought upon him) and without notice to elaborate on the when and why continued, “ so you’ll find this is the next best thing unless you’re actually a coffee fiend. So much on mediocrity ” As he spoke, Beck also moved towards the door, backward, to push it open with his shoulder without fully turning away from the guy he was talking to. “ But maybe you’ll fucking love bubble tea ”

He noticed the critique drawing attention from some young customers, and grinned. “Oh? What did you do, order in small-medium-large format? I don’t go there often ‘cause I’m not about the ‘three dollars for a cup of pure sugar’ thing. I’d rather just buy a tub of ice cream. But I’m not sure that’s avoidable most places these days.” He lifted a shoulder, noncommittally. “I might warm up to bubble tea, but not without actively trying to enjoy it, I think. I’ve had it before and it was okay---but honestly I’m just not that keen on a drink you have to chew?” Following the stranger back inside, he joined the cue. “What’s your recommendation here, if we want actual coffee...?” Realizing he’d forgotten a pretty standard bit of social courtesy, he turned to the man and extended a hand. “Oh---I’m Ari, by the way. Ari Devar.” 

After such a long hiatus from work, it was strange to be back behind the counter at Blank Space. Dakota had fastened her little apron around her waist about an hour ago and was now slumped against the register, nursing an iced coffee that she’d concocted for herself. A cup sat on the corner of the cafe counter and she’d been watching it for the better part of twenty minutes before she finally shifted up, taking it to look at the label. “Hey,” the brunette called towards the person sitting at the table closest to her, “Did you want another latte? I’ve got a mobile order that never came by and I think it’s still warm.”

Despite warnings of scary teenagers on the premises, Ari had found himself hanging out at the cafe more and more often. He pretended to work, a lot, but frequently found himself distractedly scanning through random bits of research on the internet instead, and today had been one of those less productive days. When the barista asked if he wanted another latte, he shrugged, slightly cheered by the offer. “You’re sure I’m not technically stealing it from someone else? Not that I wouldn’t still do that---I’m only human. But I’m not looking to make enemies today if I can help it.”

Theo was supposed to be writing. He really was always supposed to be writing– it’d been almost eighteen months since he’d even had a pitch, and Theo had a suspicion that his editor was going to hire someone to bust his kneecaps about it a la Misery, but hadn’t gotten to it yet. He couldn’t help it. The second something interesting happened, no matter where he ended up, Theo’d let whatever it was engross him completely. Like the poor guy on the phone outside the cafe. He had, in fact, been listening avidly, so it took a second to work up to a contrite expression. “I like coffee,” he offered blandly. “And I’ve only been here for a few weeks. I mean, I was born here, sure, but people come and go and now I’m back. So you’re not alone in that respect.” Other respects, though, Theo just grimaced. He wanted to pry because it sounded romantic but also tragic and people didn’t really like telling strangers about stuff like that directly.

Ari nodded, chuckling lightly. “In that respect, yep---but hey, I’ll take what I can get.” As though there was another option, like taking what he...couldn’t? He’d never really realized how pointless that was as a phrase, basically just stating the obvious. He looked at the lanky guy, and then jerked his head towards the cafe, heading towards the door. “Coffee there will be, then. So what brought you back to your hometown? Family stuff, job stuff? And a follow-up, since I’m fast-tracking learning shit about you until we’re even---” He added, sounding to his own ears like the world’s most efficient and nosy interviewer, “Where were you, before?” 

Cleo knew he was in Washington, thanks to his run-in with her brother like a month ago. It didn’t mean she really expected to see him or run into him like this. Not unless he’d really orchestrated this whole thing, but he said he didn’t and Ari didn’t lie like that. Or would even do this on purpose. Cleo bit her tongue as she thought because whether or not she was expecting it, he was here anyways. “Yeah?” Cleo knew she was sounding curt, speaking to him in a way she was frequently used to with other people, but never him. Asking what brought him here was probably an expected question, but Darcy had already told her, so there really wasn’t a lot to be said or exchanged between them. Same way she handled their break-up. “That’s fine. You can do whatever you like because it’s none of my business. Same way what I do is none of yours.” Cleo sipped her drink and raised the red cup a little to gesture, finally and actually looking at him dead on. “You should try Winston’s jungle juice. Seeing me won’t be so bad when you’re fucked. You can take mine,” she was already putting it in his hand. “I don’t need it.”

He felt on edge, like every molecule of his skin was vibrating at a frequency that was slightly out of sync with the rest of him. Her shifting from neutral to aggressively neutral had him spinning a little. 

“Right, jungle juice. Totally my priority right now,” he muttered, glancing into the cup she handed him, dubiously. He realized an instant after the words were out of his mouth that he didn’t have any right to be snarky. “Shit, sorry. Sorry. I’m just all, uh---I thought that... I don’t know what I thought.” His eyes searched her face, trying to find some clue as to what he was supposed to say or do. She didn’t seriously expect him just to party it up, did she? “I think I’ll just, uh. Head out, actually. Don’t think getting wasted’s gonna be really so helpful, for me.” He set the cup on the table, nodding. There was no point in asking if they’d be okay, running into each other on occasion. There probably wasn’t anything he could do about it one way or the other---he couldn’t afford to move again so soon. “Hope you... have fun, though.”

It wasn’t often that Cleo took up her co-worker’s invites, but Winston had been extremely hospitable to her since she’d moved, so it only seemed fair to attend his small get together. Everyone was in different parts of the house, chilling in some way or another and Cleo stuck with standing around with some of her other co-workers in the dining room. It was a pretty good time overall, even with being introduced to Winston’s friends every now and again. At least until a familiar face showed up at the table. Even under the dimmer lighting and behind the new beard, Cleo knew Ari. There was enough people and everyone was conveniently loud and drunk, that she could coolly stand by him, her eyes on her friends as they fought about Uno at the table. “Why are you here?” Quiet, her words were sharp and indifferent.

It happened so fast. One minute he was blissfully unaware of her presence, still living in the quiet illusion that the town was big enough they’d never cross paths, and the next, she was right there, standing beside him. Speaking to him. And the whole house tilted on its axis, and every other person in the party tumbled off to... somewhere else. Some other dimension, for all he cared. 

Why are you here, Ari? He searched his mind for the name of the person who’d invited him... Harriet? Caroline? Eric? Something like that. He didn’t even remember why he’d agreed to it, except he was bored and lonely and knew no one here. But the words and excuses dried up on his tongue. “I didn’t mean to be.” She’d cut her hair. It looked... really fucking good. Sophisticated, but not stuffy. It suited her... The frozen look on her face was more familiar and infinitely more devastating though. “It... was an accident. Really.”

Beckham was nosy. It was partially why and how he ended up in the profession that he was in but there was also, that the lives of normal people rarely ever interested him. He would’ve just ignored the guy, who joined his solidarity outside of Blank Space if his half of the phone conversation hadn’t sounded so familiar. Not that Beck would suddenly join in and start a tell-all on his own sob stories but it presented a wide grin on his face for the other to see as he put out the cigarette that had banned him outside in the first place.  “ Yeah, sounds like you’re having a great fucking start at it, too. ”, he chuckled and pushed himself from the front of the shop that he’d been leaning on, “ You won’t get anything stronger than a sugar high in there, though. No ‘Irish’ and only teenagers with damn Milk teas in there. ” And although his words implied a decent dislike towards both, there was a reason that Beck kept coming back to the place other than it being nearby. “ But it’ll match your mediocre experience of this city right up, buddy. First one’s a treat. “

The guy put out his cigarette, but the grin on his face told Ari that he’d just offered his friendship to someone who was going to take advantage of it, one way or another. Which honestly suited his current mood perfectly fine. 

He squinted at the shop, then into the middle distance, calculating. “How many milk teas would it take to feel the caffeine, at all?” He spoke partly to himself, still kind of dazed and spacey from his conversation with his sister, and thinking about Cleo. “I could just start downing them and find out for myself, I guess, but I’m scared the teenagers might snub me if I clean them out...” Normally he wouldn’t even hypothetically drown himself in it, but the idea had a certain shine to it this afternoon. “I haven’t exactly had time to have even a mediocre experience, really.” He shrugged, unsure what was meant by ‘a treat,’ but accepting whatever came next with the easy-going nihilism he’d worn since high school. “You know this place pretty well, I take it?”