Ah, there it is. I don’t look up from restocking the croissants. “Fine.”
“Fine?” she echoes, like I just told her I watched a meteor hit the earth and shrugged.
“Yep.” I smile to myself.
“Because you look like someone who got pinned to a wall and then blessed by a Roman god.”
I press my lips together to keep from laughing.
Ashton leans on the counter. “Just give me a detail. Asingle detail. A location? A sound effect? Did the belt come off again? Because I saw the state of that shelf and?—”
“Enough,” I say, holding up my hand. “You can guess all you want, but my mouth is sealed.”
She gasps. “So, your mouthwasn’tsealed earlier…OH MY GOD, ELLA…”
I throw a muffin at her.
She catches it midair like a gremlin and takes a bite with a grin. “You’re glowing, by the way. Like suspiciously radiant. What’s it like?”
I roll my eyes but feel the warmth rising in my cheeks. She’s not wrong. Ever since Nathan left this morning, I’ve been humming inside. Like my cells are vibrating. Like the air around me is lighter somehow.
Moments later, I spot my awkward, regular, high school hopeless, seated with his ever-present chocolate muffin, nervously tapping his foot under the table.
I get ready to walk over and bring him his hot chocolate when, like fate, the door opens and in she walks.Thegirl.
Same seat.
Same quiet focus.
Same intention?
He freezes. I hold my breath. He stares into his muffin even harder, like it’s holding the secrets of the universe.
Move, damn it! Do something!
I grab a plate, one blueberry muffin, and her usual caramel latte, the same order she’s made a dozen times, and carry them over to her table.
She frowns up at me and blinks slowly like she’s doing a hard math problem. “Oh…I didn’t order this.”
I nod toward the lonely guy. “I know. He did.”
Her eyes widen. Slowly, she turns her head. He was sitting there like a deer in headlights, face redder than the strawberry scones.
She smiles, soft, surprised, showing gratitude for his gift. He manages, just barely, to lift his gaze to hers. “Uh … y-you’rewelcome.” His stammer is absolutely adorable. I fight my own smile.
She grins wider. “Thank you.”
Their eyes hold for a beat, and for the first time, I see something shift. Like maybe the wall between them isn’t so tall after all.
I catch his glance, wink, and walk back behind the register, pretending my chest didn’t ache just a little at how easy it looked for them.
Something about the innocence of two high schoolers captures me in the most vulnerable and painful way. It’s easy when you’re young, or at least that’s how I remember it. All it takes is a muffin, a winning football game, a smile across the hall, and boom: love. When you’re an adult, you can still have all those things, but you also have years of baggage you’re carting around despite therapy and alcohol.
The day drags on in slow motion. Every latte I make feels like it takes a year. Every customer who walks in feels like a delay. All I can think about is seven p.m.
Nathan said he’d come back.
And for once, I actually believe he will. I believe the way he looked at me, the way he focused in on asking if I was closing. See? Simple. The entire thing. But what comes after, not so much.
