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We finished the transaction without talking. Which was definitely a good thing. The last thing I wanted was for her to notice my voice or recognize me as Meghan Grace.
The new look didn’t start as a disguise, rather, more of a way to remove myself from who I used to be. Dad was gone; I couldn't be daddy’s little girl anymore. The more make-up I added, fewer people noticed me.
Mom almost had a heart attack when I colored my hair in the school bathroom.
“Hello, Mrs. Foster. I have your daughter Meghan here in the office.” He held his phone against his ear.
“It’s just Grey now. Not Meghan.” I corrected him.
“We’ve had an incident in the girl’s bathroom.” I listened from across the desk. He paused, probably to give my mother a moment to reply.
“Somehow, during the class change, she snuck into the bathroom and colored her hair.” I pictured my mother assuming the worst.
“The third block teacher just assumed she was absent. The janitor says the black stain–”
The principal held the phone away from his ear.
Mom had always loved my light brown hair. She said it was the color of summer, with just enough blonde to give the effect of a sunflower.
“Yes, Ma’am. Black. Dark black.” My lips twisted into an evil smirk as he repeated the events of the incident.
That night, she tried to make me dye it back. The hairdresser refused. She said it would destroy my hair, and it was the best at home color she’d ever seen.
Minor changes helped me go unnoticed.
“Olivia.” I called out at the order pickup station.
“But I didn’t give you my name.” She took the coffee from my hand with a twisted expression.
A shrug was reply enough. Besides, I had customers waiting.
“Can I help–” The chime on the door rang again.
The summer sun followed Chase through the coffee shop door, setting my heart on fire. Seeing him turned my world upside down.
Forget her.
What is he doing here?
When Olivia threw her free hand around his neck, everything came crashing down.
“Chase! I was just thinking about you.” The most annoying voice in the world rose an octave higher.
Even worse, he smiled back down at her. He accepted her touch, as if it was their normal.
Had he planned to meet her at the shop? Was this some massive, sick game designed to kill me? In all of my years living in this city, I’d never run in to Chase Harrison or Olivia Parker.
Why now?
Why would he choose the worst possible time of my existence to find me?
Why didn’t he look for me sooner?
“Hey. It’s been a while. Hot chocolate with whipped cream?” I didn’t need to ask. It was the only thing remotely close to coffee that he had ever drank. I couldn’t believe that I was looking straight at my long-lost best friend and almost boyfriend. If we had just a little more time together, we would have been end game.
“Yep.” He didn't take his eyes off of Olivia to answer me. While I fixed his drink, I tried to listen to their conversation. The steam machine spewed. The grinder roared. From all the noise, there were only a few words I could pick up. Dinner. Practice. Text me.
Velociraptors soared in my gut. Did they have a history? Text? Does she have his number? Are they dating? I’m going to hurl. I had so many unanswered questions that I was too stunned to call his name. I handed his drink to him without a second glance.
