3. Jake
Jake
My skull feels like someone hired a construction crew to remodel the inside of it. It’s not just the normal pounding I feel, but more like jackhammers trying to break through concrete.
I roll over onto my back, groaning as I drag my pillow over my face; as if suffocating myself might somehow make the pounding stop.
It doesn’t. I think it makes it worse.
"What the fuck!" I scream into the pillowy material, muffling my voice the best I can.
Vivid images of last night begin to come back in flashes. My very own movie reel of my bad choices.
Shots. Beers. So much alcohol. More than one person should probably consume.
Stellan laughing so hard that he nearly fell off his stool because apparently I insisted I could beat the jukebox in an argument. I still don't know what the hell that means. Was there even a jukebox there?
Darts. Pool. Bets.
Round after round we drank, as he continued to taunt me about my damn secret admirer. I really wish he’d find a new topic of discussion.
The drinking continued until the wee hours of the morning, when we both finally dragged our asses out of there at last call.
Now, I need to get an Uber back to the place so I can get my truck.
No way in hell was I attempting to drive home.
If I were smart I wouldn't have driven there, but I was only expecting to have a drink or two.
Throwing the pillow off me, I manage to crack one eye open and immediately regret it when sunlight pours through the gap in my curtains blinding me.
"Jesus Christ." I growl in agony.
I try to roll over onto my side, and put my back to the offending light, but that takes more effort than I have. So, I stare at the ceiling for a minute, letting myself exist in miserable silence before remembering the one thing that keeps me from spiraling.
I don’t have a shift today. I'm still on my off schedule. Thank God.
A laugh escapes me at the sheer happiness of that thought.
Even though the thought of this hangover sticking around any longer makes me sick.
If I'd been scheduled to work tonight, I probably would've called in claiming the plague.
Or something maybe a little more believable, but also extremely contagious.
Instead, I can spend the day pretending I didn't make a complete idiot of myself with Stellan while my liver files a formal complaint for my behavior.
Eventually, I force myself to sit up even though my body protests. The room spins, and I have to take a deep breath to clear my head and keep from puking. No way in hell do I want to be on a carousel ride this morning.
Getting out of the bed, I raise my hands above my head and stretch. I give my head a roll, and shuffle toward the bathroom, stripping my shirt and boxers off before stepping beneath the shower.
I place my hands on the tile wall, letting my head drop forward as hot water pounds against the tight muscles between my shoulder blades.
Heaven is what it feels like right now, against my aches and incessant jackhammering in my brain.
I stand there, under the spray, longer than I should, letting the water beat against my neck while steam fills the bathroom.
If water could wash the alcohol out of your bloodstream, I'd stay here until tomorrow.
Instead, I settle for pretending it's rinsing the whiskey out of my pores.
The heat eases the ache behind my eyes enough that I can think again.
Well, barely think. By the time I shut the water off, I'm almost human. And that’s a very lenient almost.
I dry off, pull on a faded pair of jeans, a charcoal T-shirt, and my oldest, but favorite, pair of Converse, before running a towel through my hair. It took everything in me to lace the shoes up, because every time I bent over to tie the laces, I felt like I was going to pass out.
Coffee.
That’s what I need.
Everything will be better after I have my first cup, with many more to follow.
I wander into my kitchen with a renewed determination to rid myself of this pounding in my head. A good start has already been made with the shower. Reaching up, I open the cabinet and take out the coffee container. Only to open it and find it empty.
All I can do is stare at it in devastation. I close my eyes, pressing them tightly before opening them again, hoping that this time when I look there’ll be grinds in the container.
There isn’t.
“Fuck,” I drag out the word. “You've got to be kidding me.” Both my palms land on the counter with a dull thud as I bow my head dramatically. "This is how I die."
Hungover. Caffeineless. And all alone. Who knows when my body will be found. Thankfully, I don’t have a pet, so they won’t start eating my body from hunger.
“Not happening today. I’m getting coffee.” With a heavy sigh, I stand upright and head to the living room. I grab my keys off the hook by the door and my phone, ordering an Uber to come and pick me up immediately to get my truck.
Looks like I'm going out.
With my truck back in my possession, it’s time to get coffee.
The drive through town is quieter than usual, or maybe it’s because I never turned the radio on when I got to my truck.
It’s a noise that wasn’t needed. My headache feels ten times worse after riding in the Uber.
The driver was a lover of heavy metal, and had the music louder than was needed.
He’s definitely getting a bad review for that. He’s lucky I still tipped him.
I’m just around the corner from Fifi’s shop when I catch myself as my fingers turn on my turn signal.
My stomach twists into knots as I begin to think of what might be waiting there for me.
Something from my admirer. Just saying the word makes bile rise in my throat.
I love Fifi, like she was a sister, and her shop is my favorite.
But why won’t she tell me anything about this person?
Why doesn’t she tell them how much it bothers me and to stop?
Nope, not happening today. I’m in no physical or mental condition for it.
Instead of turning, I continue down Main Street.
There’s another spot I like just a few blocks down.
Their coffee isn't nearly as good, but I never have an anonymous gift waiting there for me. And right now, caffeine is caffeine.
It takes me a minute to find a parking spot; it seems the place is popular this morning. But finally I catch someone backing out, and wait patiently for them to leave. I turn off the ignition and climb out, making my way inside where the smell hits me instantly. Fresh coffee. Pastries. Salvation.
Honestly? I almost moan. Not a quiet one, but an obnoxiously loud and awkward one in front of every patron.
I make my way over to the counter and get in line behind a younger couple who can’t seem to keep their hands off each other.
As the line moves, I shuffle forward with everyone else.
By the time I reach the counter, I’m ready to take whatever incorrect order they’ve made already just so I don’t have to wait any longer.
“Good morning. Welcome to Jamie’s. What can I make for you?”
"Large black coffee," I say. “And give me a blueberry muffin with it.”
“Would you like it warmed?”
“Please.”
She tells me the total with a smile, and I pay before stepping over to the side. A few minutes later, I'm carrying my coffee and muffin over to the last unoccupied table in the place. It’s at the far end of the café, right by the window.
I practically collapse into the chair, then take my first sip.
Almost Heaven. Definitely not as good as Fifi’s.
But it'll do to curb the craving. I demolish half the muffin in three bites before pulling out my phone. One cup won’t be enough, so I decide to play a game a bit before ordering another.
Double-fisting drinks is one thing, but coffee is another.
And I don’t need that kind of judgment this morning.
I’m so invested in matching the gems game I’m playing that I don’t notice someone has stepped up to my table.
Until they clear their throat, which pulls my attention.
I glance up. The air rushes from my lungs, and I can’t form a coherent thought.
Standing beside my table is quite possibly the most handsome man I've ever seen. Tall – well my height, technically. He’s lean, but still muscular enough that you can tell he works out.
Sunlight spills through the window of the café, illuminating his blond hair that's just messy enough to look effortlessly suave. A neatly trimmed goatee frames a mouth that I’d give my right kidney to have my lips on.
"Uh..." He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. "Is this seat taken?" Pale blue eyes meet mine, then dart toward the empty chair.
Normally, I’d say yes, wanting to keep my space to myself. But when I open my mouth, that’s not what comes out.
“No, it’s free.” I clear my throat. “Have a seat.” I gesture toward the chair.
Five seconds ago, I was thrilled that I'd managed to find a table for myself. Now I can't imagine wanting anyone else sitting here, beside me, but him.
"Thanks." He sets his coffee cup on the table and takes hold of the chair, pulling it away from the table, and sits down. "I didn't realize it'd be this packed this morning.”
"Neither did I," I laugh, keeping my eyes anywhere but on him.
"The last time I was here, there were only a couple of people. When I walked in today, I almost turned around and left." My eyes drift up to gaze at him, only to see him looking back at me. “I’m glad I didn’t.”
I swear to God, he winks at me when he says it. Or did I imagine that? I replay what he said, how he looked at me, and nope, he definitely winked.
Is this guy flirting with me?
"I almost cried when I found the only empty table.” I respond quickly when I realize he’s waiting for me to say something.
"I considered offering someone fifty bucks for their seat," he jokes.
"I would've accepted," flies from my mouth. My awkward attempt at being cute and flirty. I’m mortified the instant I’m done speaking, though, because I think it came off any way but that.
But he doesn’t run in fright from my awkward attempt at flirting. He gives me a half-smile that teases so much more. "Good to know." He extends his hand across the table toward me, a crooked smile on his face. "I'm Victor."
I take his hand, shaking it. "Jake."
"So, is this normal for this place, or is it just like this today because you’re here?"
"No clue. I'm usually somewhere else."
"Oh? Cheating on your regular coffee place?" Victor asks, lifting his cup to his mouth and taking a sip of his coffee.
"Temporarily. Avoiding an uncomfortable situation."
"I won't tell." He bites his lower lip, his teeth dragging across the pink flesh.
"I appreciate your discretion in the matter."
Conversation comes surprisingly easily after that.
We joke about the ridiculous number of people apparently desperate for caffeine today.
He tells me how he has his own accounting business and volunteers as a big brother at the local Boys and Girls Club.
I tell him I’m a firefighter, but I don’t go into much detail, wanting to know more about him.
Being with him feels comfortable, and I hate knowing it’s going to come to an end. That we’re going to walk out that door and I’ll never see him again.
Eventually, he checks his watch. "I should probably get going. I’ve got a video call that I need to get ready for."
My stomach sinks. I knew it was going to happen. And now it’s real.
He drains the last of his coffee before standing. "It was nice meeting you, Jake." He turns to head to the door.
My heart starts racing. I should say something. If I don't, I know I’m going to regret it later.
"Wait," I call out, stopping him mid step and he turns around. I stand up so quickly my chair scrapes across the floor. "So..." I stammer, rubbing my hand on the back of my neck nervously. "This is probably a long shot. I don't actually know if you're..." I laugh awkwardly. "You know."
His eyebrow lifts, and he lets out a chuckle. "I was wondering when you'd ask, because I have the same question. I just hope your answer matches mine."
Heat floods my face, and I take a breath. Here goes nothing. "Can I get your number? Maybe take you out to dinner sometime?"
For one terrifying second, there’s nothing but silence. He just looks at me, then he finally opens his mouth.
"I'd like that."
"You would?"
"I would."
I nearly drop my phone, getting it out of my pocket, then he rattles off his phone number. I type it into my contacts as fast as my shaking fingers allow, before sending him a quick text.
His phone buzzes, and he lifts it, looking at the screen.
"There. Now you have mine too."
"I do. I look forward to hearing from you."
Then he gives me another wink and strolls out the door. I watch him through the café window as he walks down the sidewalk, passing the front of the window. Halfway past the storefront, he glances back. Our eyes meet through the glass, and he smiles.
A smile that promises so much more. A chance at something between us.
A grin spreads across my face until my cheeks ache. I just had coffee with the hottest man I've ever met, and managed to ask him out. On a date.
And he said yes.