“I think I’ll go with Luke,” Emerson answers, and I know both of them way too well to know what they’ll be talking about as they drive behind me.
I nod my acknowledgement, rounding my truck, and getting into the driver’s seat. The two of them walk across the street to where Luke’s car is parked, loaded with some boxes that didn’t fit in my truck, and their heads turn toward each other, suspiciously wide smiles on their faces.
I would never admit it to them, but Rumi has that effect on me too.
A smile graces my lips at the thought of possibly seeing her today.
Pulling my truck into an open spot after the short drive to Hey Honey’s, I cut the engine and step into the warm May afternoon. Emerson and Luke are already waiting for me, having been right behind me on the drive over.
Walking through the parking lot, I can feel the two of them buzzing with misplaced excitement as they follow a few steps behind me—as if watching me buy their coffee is the highlight of their week.
I know they are just interested to see who I’m buying said coffee from.
My schedule hasn’t left much time for more of our accidental run-ins since the morning I fixed her door, and, even though I have her number, I couldn’t think of a reason to text her.
I left her house that day with a blueberry muffin and a smile on my face but completely forgot to come up with some sort of excuse to see her again.
I’ll never forget how surprised Rumi was when I brought her chai, Ava’s coffee, and Evee’s milk. She looked at me as if I had given her the world, not a six dollar drink.
And I’d do it again and again, anything to make her happy—the same way I knew I would for Evee when I felt her little fingers wrap around mine, looking down at her big blue eyes.
I felt Rumi watching me as I watched Evee, but I was too mesmerized by the little girl to think much of it. It was the first time I understood why parents just stare at their kid, even if they’re doing absolutely nothing. Evee was playing with cereal, putting it in her mouth and then in my hand; I would’ve stood there all day if she wanted me to.
There’s this innate part of me that feels like IknowRumi—like she and I spent time getting to know each other in another life—but there’s so much about who she is that is still unknown to me. I’ve caught glimpses—taking anything and everything she’ll give me—but I want the whole picture. Who she was, who she is, and who she wants to be.
And I can’t forget Evee, or the way her big blue eyes can bring me to my knees with a single blink of those long lashes.
Between the two of them, I can’t help but want to grow this friendship, especially as I start to feel more like myself.
And I still need to know what the fuck she was doing driving the night of the accident.
We’re almost at the door when I stop, needing to take a second to think about what I’m going to say to her. I don’t want to freak her out like I did the first time I barged into the coffee shop when she was working, and I hope she’s thought about me at least a quarter of how much I’ve thought of her these last three weeks.
This connection—this pull—between us can’t just be in my head.
I hear Luke and Emerson ask what I’m doing, but I ignore them, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans before looking down at my black T-shirt, making sure it’s clean.
I feel like I’m a teenager again, unsure of myself and how to properly talk to a pretty girl. I shake my head, feeling embarrassed at the thought.
I’m just here to buy Luke and Emerson coffee and say hello. Maybe ask her how her day is, or what she ended up deciding to do for Evee’s birthday. I could ask her what she’s doing after her shift this morning, or when she wants me to rectify her burnt cookie fiasco like I promised that night.
This isn’t life or death—there’s no fire threatening the lives of people I love; there’s no emergency that needs me; no distressing call that needs answering.
This is Rumi.
My friend.
“Did you forget how to walk, dummy?” Emerson steps around me, walking toward the door and pulling it open, letting herself in.
“What’s wrong, man?” Luke puts a hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I answer, but my throat feels dry. I cough into my fist and keep walking.
When I follow Emerson into Hey Honey’s, the sharp scent of espresso hits me. There’s a hum from the grinders and soft music, and the place is filled with different voices. There's a couple seated at the table by the windows, a group of girls sitting around the round table, and a few people waiting by the end counter for their drink to be called.
It’s not too busy, which means I won’t be interrupting Rumi in the middle of a rush. My eyes roam the space, immediatelylanding on her. She’s at the register, talking to my sister, as Ava makes drinks behind the counter.
Luke walks past me, waving to a few patrons who recognize him and heading to where the girls are. I watch as Rumi’s eyes go from Emerson to him, her lips curved in a small smile, the sunlight from the windows caught in her dark hair.
