Page 30 of The Moment I Knew

He flipped me off. Katie barely muffled her laugh. “I didn’t know you had friends at Parkhurst, Cole.”

“She’s not a friend,” he said tightly.

“That’s not very nice,” she said in a chiding tone. Then her eyes widened and she snapped her fingers like she finally pieced something together. “Oh! You’re the coffee girl, aren’t you? The one who spilled, like, ten coffees on the floor of the shop.”

“It was only eight,” I mumbled.

“And donuts,” Cole added.

Katie tipped her head back and laughed so hard she grabbed her stomach. When she finally righted herself, she grabbed my arm like we were long lost friends catching up. “Oh my gosh, I had to hear about that incident for days. It’s all Cole would complain about. You must’ve made quite an impact on Grumpy McGee over here.”

“Katie,” Cole warned.

I shot Cole a look. “You’ve been talking about me.”

“I mentioned you,” he said.

“Constantly,” Katie added. She smiled wider, clearly delighted in embarrassing her cousin. “I’m Katie. Sorry—he didn’t tell me you went to school here.”

“He didn’t tell me he knew anyone who volunteered here either, so I guess we’re even.”

Cole rolled his eyes and reached across the car to open Katie’s door in an obvious get in the car gesture. “Can we go now?”

“One second, I’m talking to my new friend.”

He groaned and dropped his head back against the headrest. “Just talk to her the next time she comes into the shop.”

“Is that your way of inviting me to come by more?” I asked teasingly. “Because I got the sense yesterday that you were really unimpressed that I kept coming back.”

He turned his head just enough to be able to glare at me. I just smiled in response.

“Katie, get in the car or I’m leaving you here,” Cole said, but he didn’t take his eyes off me. Katie laughed like it was a joke but moved over to the passenger door. I stepped away so Cole could drive off but didn’t take my eyes off the car—which meant that I didn’t miss the way he looked back over at me one last time before he turned out of the lot and drove off as fast as he could.

eleven

After Cole sped out of Parkhurst’s parking lot, Ainsley resumed begging me to go to The Corner Cup with her before my “sleepover,” and since I still hadn’t found a way to process that guilt yet, and I assumed Cole would just head home and not go straight to work, I begrudgingly agreed. I could just walk to dad’s after. I could use the caffeine to deal with Hillary anyways.

It was my first time going to The Corner Cup immediately after school, but it was clear that every teen in the area knew about it. The place was filled with students either wearing blue-and-silver uniforms from Parkhurst or red-and-gold from Crofton Academy, our rival school. It was also louder than it had been the other evening, with the music overhead thudding and voices bouncing off the walls. I would have had trouble if it was like this when I’d come by to study, but I guess they made it calmer in the evenings.

I looked toward the counter before I could stop myself, my eyes scanning the space behind it in a way that felt automatic, like muscle memory. I told myself it was just a habit, just checking how long the line was or who was working.

But all I confirmed was that Cole wasn’t there.

Relief washed through me, quick and sharp, followed immediately by something else that made absolutely no sense. Disappointment, maybe. Which was stupid. I didn’t come here for him. I didn’t care if he was working. I especially didn’t care that I’d kind of hoped he wouldn’t be.

I didn’t recognize the girl behind the counter since it wasn’t Katie, but I guess it made sense that they had more people working here than just their family. I joined the line, hands shoved into my sleeves, rehearsing my order in my head like it might change if I didn’t keep it locked in. When it was finally my turn, I stepped forward and opened my mouth.

“Could I get a⁠—”

“Gingerbread loaf and a large Heartbreaker.”

My entire body went still at the voice.

Cole was leaning against the counter to my left, just far enough behind the shelves to be hidden from view when I was in line. He was wearing a dark hoodie with the sleeves pushed up just enough to show his wrists, black jeans, and beat-up converse that looked like they’d been through several bad life choices. His hair was messier than usual, like he’d run his hands through it one too many times and then given up.

He didn’t look up as he spoke, his eyes were fixed on his phone, thumb scrolling lazily. If anything, he actually looked bored as he recited my coffee order from memory.

“Give her extra whip cream,” he added without inflection, still not looking up. Then he straightened, slid his phone into his pocket, and walked away through the swinging door to the Staff Only section like nothing had happened.