“Oh, so you’re one of those, hmmm.” I dramatically roll my eyes at him. “Just milk—if you have it.”
“Just milk, it is,” he says as he opens the fridge door, pulling out a plastic blue pitcher with a bag of milk in it. He pours some into my coffee and gives it a light stir. Then, walking over to me, he places it on the coffee table in front of the couch. I’m overcome with the scent of salt air and bar soap. Clean, fresh, and comforting.
My hands wrap around the matching red cup and take a sip. The coffee is delicious. Way better than the instant crap I’ve been making at home. It’s smooth and bold, and the milk adds a nice creaminess to it. I don’t miss the creamerthatmuch.
“Thank you,” I say, a smile growing on my face. I place the mug back down on the table and move for my purse. “Now, for my gift.” I run my hand through the bag, fingers searching for the spiral-bound notebook I bought, but feel nothing. “Hmmm,” I mutter as I bring my bag to my lap and open it fully, looking inside. “It’s not here,” I say, sounding a little bummed.
“Next time, I guess,” he says calmly as he sits down in the matching armchair and takes another sip of his own drink.
“It was going to be so funny too,” I whine, my face making a little pout.
“I’m sure it was.” He gives me a look and offers a slight smirk once more. They make his eyes crinkle the tiniest bit. He brushes a stray piece of hair away and tucks it behind his ear. “I see you’ve got another interesting outfit on again today.”
Smirk. Sip.
I look down at my outfit, confused. “How is this odd?” I’m wearing a pair of black bike shorts with a white tank top and a green utility-style jacket on top to fight the chill of the wind on the coast. I even wore my chunky New Balance sneakers because they seemed more sensible than my wedge sandals last week.
He doesn’t offer a response, just a slight chuckle. “Those look like my dad’s shoes.”
“Your dad must be verystylish, then.”
We drink our coffee in a comfortable silence, our jabs and warring on pause temporarily while we sit. Sunlight pours in through the rectangular window by the desk andbathes the living room in a soft, golden light. It was cloudy when I came in, so it’s nice to see the sun making an appearance.
“Well, not that this hasn’t been fun, but I need to get back to work now.” He stands up and brings his cup into the kitchen, dropping it in the sink and rinsing it out.
“Sure,work,” I say with mocking air quotes. “See you later, Lighthouse Keeper?” I ask, popping up as well and placing my cup on the kitchen counter.
“Sure,” he answers with a small wave of his hand. I ignore the strange urge that washes over me to take it in mine.
I open the red door downstairs with a creak and walk out into a windy and cloudy afternoon. “Hmf, so much for that warm sun,” I say to myself. I take a step and almost trip on something in front of me. Looking down, I spot the notebook I bought, beside the flower I’d picked before coming in. Must have fallen out on my way in. I pick it up and turn toward the door. Giving it a hard knock, I place the notebook back on the ground in front of it, then head back down the path to my car. I can almost picture the look on his face when he sees the Taylor Swift bedazzled notebook.
“Who’s Taylor Swift?” I mutter with mocking distaste as I open up the door and sit down in the driver’s seat. The clouds above me turn darker, rain a sure thing. I put my car in drive and head back down the coast to Pleasant Cove, singing “Down Bad” as the car makes its way through the winding roads.
Chapter Six
“You seem distracted today,” Priya says to me as she steams some milk for the latte she’s currently making. Her short, thick black hair is pulled out of her face with some very cute butterfly barrettes as she focuses on what she’s doing.
“Hmm?” I’m staring into the cafe, not really taking anything in. Definitely not sweeping the floors like Sarah asked me to do earlier.
“Exactly my point,” she muses, carefully pouring the frothy milk over top of the espresso shots she just pulled. “Are you seeing someone? Is that what’s got your head up in the clouds?”
For the smallest of seconds, my mind drifts to the mystery lighthouse keeper who’s been taking up residence in my mind. Long brown hair and piercing green eyes, giving me that smile I’ve come to enjoy. Someone who I find so infuriating but so interesting all at the same time.
I shake my head and focus back on my friend. “Nope, not seeing anyone. Just tired.” It’s been a long week, and I’m tired, hungry, and hell-bent on learning who this lighthousekeeper is. I still can’t believe there’s no mention of someone taking over Killick Point. I don’t know why, but I haven’t said anything else to Priya about him. I can’t make sense of it myself yet, and I don’t want someone to tell me I’m nuts or have the wrong lighthouse again.
“Sure, sure,” she says. “Latte for Maya!”
I get through the rest of my shift with Sarah only berating me once for an iced mocha I made with expired shots thatapparentlytasted bitter as hell. My bad. I’m still getting the hang of the timing with espresso. You can’t let it sit out for too long. It goes bitter. Who knew?
I get home that evening and am so tired I drop to the floor of my tiny apartment. I’ve never worked so much in my life as I have since moving here and getting a job at Pleasant Coffee with Pri. I was a very privileged child who grew up with a mom and dad who provided everything for me. I became so comfortable with that life that I never felt the need to try to do anything on my own. Why bother when the swipe of a credit card solved any problem, and I always had a roof over my head that was nicer than anything I could afford without my parents. I never looked at my upbringing as a bad thing, because it was all I knew, but being here now and working for everything I have has been humbling, to say the least. It’s also taught me howhardlife can be for the average person.
I’m reminded about the Check Engine light that came on in my car on the drive home from work. I rest the back of my head on the door and shut my eyes.Great. Another thing I need to worry about.
I make minimum wage at the coffee shop, but thankfully, rent in the tiny town of Pleasant Cove is quite cheap. Especially when you rent a very old, un-air-conditioned studio apartment above a corner store. I work full-time,Monday to Friday, at the coffee shop (Sarah wasn’t keen on the idea of me serving customers over the busy weekends), and it’s enough to pay my rent and allow me some groceries. Nothing too extravagant, but it feels good to know that I’m doing it all on my own over here.
I still haven’t quite mastered the art of a latte, let alone a cappuccino, but at least I’m trying. I wish Sarah saw that. She only sees my mistakes, and it’s a constant reminder that I’m a fish out of water here. I don’t belong. I get so stressed every week when I mess things up and she gives me that disappointed look. My nerves tell me it’s only a matter of time before she sees me as a hindrance and convinces the owner, Mandy, to let me go.
Then I’d be screwed.
