“I haven’t technically been seeing anyone. But there is a guy.”
“Okay.”
I finally finish what I’m doing and move on to filling the coffee machines with beans to brew our first batch. In the mornings, we have a light, medium, and a dark roast, along with a decaf, which we stop brewing around eleven.
“We met on… Tinder,” I lie, “and have hung out a few times over the last few weeks. At first, we didn’t get along.” Not a lie. “In fact, I really didn’t like him. He was quiet and a bit abrasive.” Definitely not a lie. “But there was something about our banter that had me hooked. It felt like I was slowly pulling him out of his shell…” I stare off while pouring the last of the decaf beans into the grinder. “Anyway, I saw him on Saturday, and it was the longest amount of time we’d spent together. He made me dinner, and we played cards and had this moment where it felt like we were going to kiss?—”
“And did you?” Priya squeals, jumping up and down. She knows how long it’s been since I’ve dated and how I’vehad no interest in even trying lately. Too busy trying to keep myself afloat.
“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t be this mad,” I tease her. Ever the optimist, that girl. “When the momentalmosthappened, it was like he froze up and then pretty much asked me to leave.”
“Ah, shit.” She tosses her cloth into the sink while I press Brew on all the machines. In about ten minutes, the coffee will be ready, and we can open the cafe.
“Yeah, I’m more bummed than I thought I would be. There’s just something about him. He notices things. And remembers them. And it felt like we were getting along.”
“Maybe he got scared?” Priya offers as she holds her cup under the spout of the currently brewing dark roast and pours herself an early cup. “Do you know when his last relationship was? Did he mention anything in any of your conversations before you met?”
About that…“Um, nope. He didn’t.”
“Have you spoken since?”
“Nope. I was a little embarrassed and haven’t reached out.”
“Hmmm,” she muses while taking a sip. “I think you should give it one more shot.”
“Really? Even after he rejected me?”
“Well, he didn’t technically reject you. You weren’t actually about to kiss, right? It was just a moment. My guess is he was nervous or something. Maybe he had a bad breakup before? I think you should at least text him, maybe see him one more time. If he’s still being weird about it, then clearly, he isn’t ready for anything yet. Might be worth giving him the benefit of one bad moment and see if he can redeem himself.”
“One more shot, eh?” I ponder out loud as I steal themug from her hands, like I always do, adding in some cream and a few pumps of caramel syrup to take away the bitterness.
“What’s the harm?”
“I guess there isn’t any.”
The rest of the shift goes by in a blur. I mess up at least three coffee orders and catch Sarah rolling her light green eyes at each mistake. Then, I burn a croissant in the warmer because I accidentally set it for two minutes instead of twenty seconds. By the end of my shift, I am doing my best to sneak out past Sarah so she doesn’t berate me for not being on my game at this job yet.
Instead of opening the door to my building and walking up the creaky stairs to my apartment, I walk down the street a bit more to the place where I parked my car. My building doesn’t have parking, but thankfully, there is a ton of free street parking nearby. It’s a constant game ofwhere will I find a spoteach time I go to park my car.
Without thinking, I hop in and make the drive I now know by heart down to the lighthouse to see Dylan. The sun is getting closer to the horizon when I pull over to park, then walk down the crunchy gravel path to the red door. I don’t know what’s come over me. I think I’m just mad about how we left things. How he went completely cold on me without any sort of explanation. If he doesn’t want anything from me, he can grow a pair and say it. We can be friends if he wants. Or I can leave and never see him again, butonlyafter we have a conversation like grown adults. Priya’s right. And my parents would say the same thing. They’ve never shied away from confrontation just because, in the moment, it’s uncomfortable. They always talk it out, and in the end, they’re better for it. I’m trying to channel them right now.
I knock on the door, and without giving myself time tooverthink and turn around, I rap my knuckles on the door and open it, feeling a light zap on my fingers as I do, closing it loudly behind me.
Footsteps above me stop, and I hear them make their way toward me.
Am I ready for this?
Chapter Ten
Dylan comes down the stairs, wearing a pair of grey joggers that shouldn’t look as good on him as they do and the black Nike hoodie he lent me last weekend.
I hate that I know how it smells.
His hair is pulled back from his face in a bun. “You again,” he says as he stops on the last step, watching me, his emerald-green eyes locked on my hazel ones. This is the first time since Ifirstcame here that I’ve felt nervous coming inside to see him.
“Me again,” I respond, waiting for him to give me some sort of reaction.
“Come on up.” He motions for me to follow him. I slip off my brown Ugg boots and walk behind him, up the stairs and onto the second level. I can smell the smoke from the wood stove and a bit of garlic and dish soap. He must have just cleaned up after dinner.
