AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The restrooms were off a little hallway in the back corner of the coffeehouse. Of the three doors back there, she figured the one with the picture of a skirt-less figure was the best bet. Tapping a knuckle against it, she waited for a response. When there wasn’t one, she got closer, pushing her lips to the side as she leaned in to angle her ear nearer the wood.
“Hello,” she chirped in a low, sing-song voice. “Are you in there, Ice Pants Guy?” What was he doing? She couldn’t hear anything so got even closer. “Hello?” The snap of the lock jolted her back to nestle against the frame. When the door opened a few inches, she did her best to show contrition. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t say anything. His expression wasn’t easy to read either. “The ice was worse than the coffee, right?” He nodded once. Filled with sorrow, she cringed. “I’m a noodlehead. I’m so sorry.” Rainie took a shot at smiling. “I didn’t get your order. There’s a guy in the line holding our place… What do you want?” He didn’t say anything. Was he mad? Like really super mad? “Do you want to call a cop? Have me arrested? I’ll accept the charges; you just have to let me call my boss so I don’t get fired. Girl has bills to pay, you know?”
Her awkward laugh didn’t do much to ease his tension. What the hell else could she offer? Her mind was blank. She was still searching her brain and his brooding brown eyes when, all of a sudden, he thrust the door further open and snatched her hand.
“Oh, we’re walking,” she said, her arm stretching from her shoulder as she hurried to keep up. “Where are we going? Oh, Ice Pants Guy, you’re fast.” Grabbing her purse that was hanging across her body, swinging back and forth in the space between them, she didn’t want it to smack him in the ass… that really would be assault… One her hands might envy the accessory. “Where are we—”
Whoever he was stopped and swung her around in a wide arc, bringing her to a stop only when she dropped into the chair at a table near the edge of the room. Still trying to catch her breath, she recoiled when he slapped one hand to the table and bent down to get in her face.
“Mocha frappé?”
Her order. “No whip.”
He nodded once and strode off toward the counter. With rounded eyes and her mouth still open, she wasn’t sure what was going on. Her heart beat hard and fast, like she’d just run a couple of miles on the treadmill.
The guy was… whoever he was. Strong, sure, determined… and, unless he planned to buy her drink only to pour it over her, he was forgiving too. Her lunch break was finite, though Stacey wouldn’t be surprised to hear she got waylaid after being a ditz.
If it wasn’t her clumsiness getting her into trouble, it was her mouth. Her lack of spatial awareness was one thing; that was physical. She stood too close to people, leaned on things that shouldn’t be leaned on, and tended to miss basic observations. The only time she wasn’t falling all over the place was when she and her girlfriends went dancing. Somehow, her rhythm was just fine… most of the time.
Still, for all the occasions she’d said something stupid or been maybe just a little too blunt, someone could be forgiven for thinking she’d have learned just to keep her mouth shut. But, nope, that failsafe circuit most other people had between their mouth and brain didn’t exist in her anatomy.
The line to the register was shorter. The guy who’d said he’d keep her place was nowhere in sight. Ice Pants Guy wouldn’t have known who he was anyway. She could go over there. Except IPG had put her in the seat for a reason, no doubt to save himself from anymore of her drinks being spilled over his clothes.
When everything was going wrong, the simplest, most comforting thing to do was sing. Music rose in her head, something fun always cheered her up. Cyndi Lauper was a good call, and her lips moved in silent recitation of the lyrics.
She was in that coffee shop at least once a workday and often at the weekend too. Her gym was close by and the apartment she shared with two roommates half a dozen blocks over. There were other coffee places between work and home, but she loved loyalty. And that was why she frequented so many of the same places rather than shop around.
Rolling her tongue side to side in her mouth, she sang in her head, passing the time. It was crazy just how bad she was at sitting doing nothing. The unexpected sound of a phone vibrating on a hard surface startled her. The device on the table. Ringing. There was a phone right there. A random phone. Did it belong to IPG or was it left there by a previous customer?
IPG put her in that seat, she shouldn’t go anywhere. Knowing her luck, if she got up with the phone, she’d only drop it or find some other way to damage it. Figuring that she spent her days answering calls and taking messages, she picked up the phone and swiped to answer.
“Twice in five minutes, what’s going on?” The abrupt male voice didn’t land on angry or amused. How should she respond? “Hello?”
It took a second to kick herself from her stupor. “Uh… Hello?”
Silence. “You’re a woman.”
Glancing down at herself like she actually needed to check, she nodded at no one. “I am.”
“That’s not your phone.”
“No, it isn’t… But I can take a message.”
“A message? Where is he?”
“Uh…”
“Who are you?”
“Who are you?” she asked in return, exhilarated by the quick-fire exchange.
“I’m the guy calling my guy’s phone, you tell me who you are.”
My guy. She smiled. Was IPG’s boyfriend worried about his fidelity or his safety?
“You could be some crazy telemarketer trawling for personal information or an identity thief,” she said. “Are you an identity thief? Hmm?”
“How do I know you’re not a crazy mugger?” the guy asked. “You’ve got my guy’s phone and no good explanation why… I’m calling the cops.”
