I pull my phone out and call Delaney.
* * *
“Get in, loser, we’re…getting you home safe!” Delaney yells from the open window of the driver’s seat. I chuckle and push off from the side of the building wall beside Andre.
“Great reference attempt, Lane,” I snort. I scoot into the passenger’s side and flop into the seat, the brown bag resting atop my lap.
“Hey Andre! What’s this I hear about you going to Les Mis without me?” Delaney yells out past me through the window to where Andre stands sentry.
“I’ll get you tickets Ms. Beatty,” is all he says, dipping his chin at her. She returns the gesture ominously before rolling the window up.
“I’m sorry, what the fuck was that?” I ask. Delaney takes off towards my house, waving me off.
“Ah, he helps make some of the set pieces for the campus theatre. He’s my ticket hook up. I got front row for Wicked last year. It was unreal.”
“As long as no one gets whacked for those tickets,” I mutter darkly.
“Whacked for Wicked,” Delaney says imitating Andre in a deep voice, making us burst out laughing.
EIGHTEEN
Black
Dominic
Today is just notmy fucking day. First, I was late for work at Biblio & Brew, coincidentally on the only day this week my manager has come in to check inventory. That was a fun conversation. Then I messed up not one, not two, butthreeorders in a row. Finally, I tripped over a student’s backpack on the ground and splashed latte all over three of the books on the shelf, all of which are now coming out of my paycheque. I grumble my way through another dark roast, knowing as soon as I see Celeste my day will get better, I just know it.
It’s almost a sixth sense at this point, that I just feel when Celeste is about to enter Biblio & Brew. Honestly, how could anyone miss her coming through the door? Right on cue, Celeste glides in, her golden hair glowing in the sun creating a halo effect atop her head. She immediately locks eyes with me and strollsin my direction. She looks like she’s holding in a laugh, a story meant just for me. I love when she gets excited about sharing things with me. I’d listen to her deliver the weather if it meant she’d continue looking at me the way she is right now.
“Hello,” she greets me with a coy smile.
“Hello, back. What’s going on?” I ask playfully, leaning my hands against the counter, a dish towel thrown over my shoulder, and a smile that I can’t seem to hide to save my life.
“Okay, I have the mostridiculousstory to tell you.”
“I’m all ears, Hoot. Coffee?” I ask before she dives in.
“Please!” she answers, pulling over a stool as I begin working on her order. “So, do you rememberThe Hair?” Her eyebrows arch expectantly.
I half turn, “How could I forget? He was the one studying neuroscience right?”
“Hilarious,” she says, setting herself atop the stool. “Anyway!” She continues at breakneck speed, stumbling over words in an attempt to get her story out, “Okay, so we went on that first date, as you know.” I nod along adding cream to her coffee, keeping my displeasure of that one date to myself.
“Well, he messaged me again the other day and asked me out for a second date. So we met up at Copertina a day…no, two? Yes, two days ago…”
My hand stills on the sugar canister. She went on a second date with him?My stomach dips and begins to tie itself in knots. She hasn’t gone on a second date with anyone before.
“So he’s going on and on and oooonnnn about his family’s ‘estate’,”
“Sorry,” I interrupt, my brows furrowing together, “You went on a second date with him?” I ask quietly, turning to face her. She pauses, looking over my face briefly before her smile falters.
“I—yeah. I thought he ticked off basically all the qualities ofThe List.” She blinks at me with some confusion, then a smilethat doesn’t meet her eyes is quickly plastered on her face and I see a wall going up. A mask. Her cleverly crafted false persona is coming out and I hate it. Celeste’s coffee shakes in my hands, spilling over onto the countertop. The vulnerable, walls down, easy going Celeste is gone and what stands before me,whostands before me is someone else entirely. A version of Celeste that answers every question with ‘fine’, one that is clinical. A jealous flame of something all-consuming at this shift licks at my insides. So much for my day getting better. I carefully place the sugar canister down, and grab a towel to wipe up the mess.
“I mean, I’m just taking a chance, right? I talked with my mom and thought, you know, why the hell not?” She fidgets with her hands and looks out the window, unable to meet my eyes. Her sudden expression and nervous tick churns anger in my gut.
Does she seriously see a future with this guy?
“Why the hell not? Hoot, you don’t even like this guy.” My voice raises a fraction, my hand strangling the dish towel in my grip. “Celeste he doesn’t even know the real you!” My voice grows louder, my tone sharper. A couple by the window glance over. “This fake fairy tale act is cute, but it’s not real.TheListis all bullshit, and you know it.” I shake my head at her.
