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“Youweren’t.”
“No, I was weird.” She said it like that was a bad thing. It was not. Carmen had been the weirdest weirdo ever. Which was why she’d made the best pen pal, and the best friend I’d ever had. But of course, she didn’t know any of that because I’d cut off our friendship in the rudest way possible. Like only a hurting thirteen-year-old kid could.
Before I could explain any of that, the barista came over with our drinks, looking apologetic. “Here you go.” She set our drinks down carefully. “Would you mind if we put a few more chairs around your table and let some people join you?” Another employee was already heading our way with a chair under each arm, so it was clearly more of a warning than a request.
“That’s fine, I guess.” I looked to Carmen and she nodded.
The barista looked relieved. “Great. Thank you. The show is about to begin and we’re trying to accommodate everyone.” She turned and crooked her finger at a few people standing at the door, and they eagerly came to take the seats being added to our table.
I scooted my chair closer to Carmen, careful not to bump her elbow while she was swirling her whipped cream into her drink. This close, even above the coffee and chocolate-scented haze, I could pick out soft notes of apple blossom that must have come from her shampoo.
I’d toyed with the idea of bringing her flowers tonight. A small, sweet-smelling bouquet full of the bright colors I knew she loved. I was an expert at saying with flowers what couldn’t be said with words, but on a date like this, she wouldn’t have had anywhere to put them, so practicality won out. Besides, there were no flowers that could properly convey, ‘hey this is super awkward, but I’m happy you showed up.’
“Carmen.” I waited until she was looking at me again. “I’m sorry. For so many things. I—” I was suddenly drowned out by loud taps on a microphone as the stage lights popped on and everyone around us began politely clapping. Timing was not my friend tonight.
“It’s okay,” Carmen shouted into my ear. “Later.”
A lady in a fedora and a long flannel dress pressed her lips against the microphone. “Hello, my friends.” Her voice managed to be both soulful and pretentious. “I’m Zillary.” The man next to her with a long beard and a straw hat leaned forward. “And I’m Kip.”
“And together we are…” They paused for dramatic effect. “The Zippers.”
Carmen’s eyes met mine and silently we dared each other to laugh first. I would not let her win. Even when Kip got out his tambourine and lost himself in the first few notes of Zillary’s song on the guitar. Not even when the first words out of Zillary’s mouth were, “An asteroid hit my love for you, and now I’m on fire.”
“Put me out,” Kip crooned in response. “Put me out.”
Chapter 7 - Carmen
Carmen: Did you ask your mom if we can do a playdate again? It’s been like forever. You might have facial hair now. I need to see this up close.
Zac: You can’t call it a playdate. We’re twelve. It’s a hang.
Carmen: Did you ask your mom if we can do a hang?
Zac: She’s got this new job and the hours are weird. Plus we’re moving soon.
Carmen: Sure. Sure. Is it because she tried to speak Spanish to my mom last time?
Zac: Ummmmm….
Zac: It might be because of that. Soon Carmen.
Zac: P.S. I do have facial hair. My mustache is the sauce.
Carmen: Sure it’s not actual sauce? Like leftover spaghetti sauce?
Zac: Guess you’ll have to wait and see.
Carmen: Noooooo!
The good news? I was pretty sure I’d found a new date night place for GoWithFriends. Take that, Freddy Kruger’s snooty restaurant. This coffee house was perfect. Perfect! The Zippers sure knew how to whip up an audience. They were so bad they were good. And even better, Steamers could handle a crowd. They welcomed crowds.
The bad news? My entire body instinctively wanted to lean into Isaac and get nice and comfortable. I wanted his arm around me, warming me up. I liked being friendly and flirty and getting to know my dates. Not too deeply, but just below the surface where you found out things like his preference for cats over dogs, or that he had a long-running text thread with his grandma. But this was not a typical date, and I had no idea what to do with myself.
Instead of leaning into him, I pulled my cardigan tighter around me and let the soft material caress my cheek. Zillary was singing about lost love and caterpillar nights. I had no idea what her metaphors were supposed to mean, but it sounded cool.
Isaac’s arm went around the top of my chair and brushed against my back. Ah, he was going for it. I pretended not to notice, even though I noticed everything about him. I noticed his gray canvas sneakers, the way his knee bounced with the music almost subconsciously. He’d recently cut his hair, and his hairline had the perfect edges around his nicely formed ears. Ear ogling. This is what I’d come to.
I focused back on the music, ignoring the ridiculous curiosity I felt when his arm dropped and he took a sip of his hot chocolate. Instead of putting his arm around my chair again, he leaned closer, letting his shoulder rest against mine. It was just a shoulder touch, but I couldn’t help wondering what he would try next. Isaac did not smell like lavender, and I highly doubted he had soft, pillowy hands.
