Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Echo
Brian the barista is flirting again.
I watch him from across the coffee shop, leaning over the counter with that goofy smile he probably thinks is charming.
The woman he’s currently hassling isn’t Dahlia, but with the way he’s trying to sweet-talk her, it might as well be.
I’ve read enough of her texts with Fallon to know that this type of behavior is normal for him.
He’s done it to both of them on more than a few occasions, and every time it’s the same.
Flirt with them aggressively at the register, then once their drinks are done, he holds them for ransom while he pesters them for their contact info.
The girls never gave in to him, but the fact that he did it to them at all grates on my nerves.
His job is to make them their fucking drinks, not to make them uncomfortable.
I step up to the counter and when Brian the barista sees me, his smile doesn’t drop exactly, but it does recalibrate.
“Good morning, sir. What can I get you?”
I came here for two reasons.
The first is the drinks. Dahlia and Fallon have been texting about them since seven this morning. I guess it’s some seasonal drink launch today. One that they’ve been tracking like a national holiday. They were planning to pick up the drinks an hour from now. I decided to save them the trip.
The second reason is standing right in front of me with a dirty green apron on and a black marker clenched in his hand. Asshole has no idea what’s coming for him.
“Two large iced chais with extra pumpkin cold foam.”
He asks if there’s anything else, and when I shake my head, he gives me my total. I pull out my wallet, unhurriedly, and pause.
“Actually, there is something else.” I say, leveling my gaze at him as I lean in a little closer. “You wouldn’t happen to know if any of your coworkers have gotten a little aggressive with some of the female customers recently?”
His eyes widen, then shift back and forth uncomfortably.
“My wife mentioned something about it a few weeks back.” I continue, ignoring how good it feels to call her that. “She said whoever it was made her pretty uncomfortable.” I tilt my head slightly.
Brian the barista has gone very still.
“She didn't give me a name though.”
“I don’t— I mean, not that I know of, sir.” He says, eyeing me warily. His voice manages to come out even, but I can see the muscles working in his throat.
“Hm.” I nod slowly, pretending as if I’m genuinely considering his words. “Well, if you hear anything, do me a favor and tell him to be more respectful.” I hold his gaze. “I’d hate to have to come back and cause a scene because some asshole couldn’t take a fucking hint.”
He swallows and nods his head emphatically.
“Of course. Name for the cup?” He asks.
I flash him a smile. “It’s for my wife and her friend.” I say, tasting the word on my tongue again. “Dahlia and Fallon.”
I watch his face as recognition moves through it like a current. He uncaps his marker and scribbles their names on the cups without another word.
The girls’ drinks are ready a few minutes later, and when he sets them on the counter, he refuses to look me in the eye.
I smile to myself as I reach for them.
That should take care of that.
When I step through the door of Better Than Fiction, Fallon is the first to see me. She’s perched on the counter, legs swinging, talking to Dahlia while she stocks her best-sellers shelf. Her eyes land on the drinks in my hands, and her face instantly brightens.
“No way.” She says, shaking her head in disbelief. “Please tell me one of those is for me.”
I give her a nod as I step closer and set the drinks on the counter beside her. “Even has your name on it.” I say smoothly. “Anything to stay on your good side.”
Bambi turns around to look at me, and when our eyes meet, instead of smiling, like I know she wants to, she bites the inside of her cheek and shakes her head.
“I see you’ve resorted to bribery.” She quips, cocking a brow at me. “You know you can’t just buy our friendship, right?”
Fallon reaches for her drink and takes a long sip. “Don’t listen to her.” She says, waving her hand dismissively. “I’m not above being bought.”
Dahlia picks up her drink without looking at me, then pauses when she notices the contents.
“You brought us pumpkin cold foam chais? How did you know?”
“You mentioned it this morning.”
I don’t say the concerning part out loud. That it wasn’t technically me she mentioned it to.
The look she gives me sits somewhere between outrage and resignation. She wants to be upset about the violation of her privacy, but I think by now she’s learned that there’s no boundary I won’t cross to make her happy.
She takes a sip, and the smile that spreads across her face makes the corner of my mouth twitch.
That. That alone right there made this trip worth it.
“So...” Bambi drawls, setting her cup back down on the counter. “What are you doing here? You know, besides being our magical pumpkin chai fairy?”
“I need book two.”
“You actually finished it?”
“I did.”
Surprise briefly flickers across her face before she quickly smooths her features again.
“Finished what?” Fallon asks, eyes flicking between the two of us.
“Darkfever.” Bambi says, tilting her head at me.
Fallon stifles a laugh. “D, you did not make him read faerie porn.”
“I actually had no hand in it. Echo picked it out himself.”
“Seriously?” Fallon asks, looking at me.
I nod, never taking my eyes off Bambi. “She said it was her favorite, and I had to know why.”
Fallon clears her throat and hops off the counter. “I’m gonna go… do something else right now. You two have fun.”
As soon as she’s out of earshot, Bambi narrows her eyes at me. “You scared her off.”
“That’s okay.” I say, licking my lips. “As long as I’m not doing the same to you.”
She bites the inside of her cheek. “You should be,” she says softly. “You read my texts, you spy on me, you sneak into my room every night. All of that should scare me.”
I work the muscles in my jaw. “But does it?”
Bambi doesn’t answer right away. I search her face, looking for anything that might give me insight into what she’s thinking. I’m desperate for her answer in a way I’ve never been desperate for anything before.
“No.”
The word lands quietly between us, and she holds my gaze.
“No.” She says it again. “Which probably means my judgment is shit.”
“Or it’s more perceptive than you realize.”
Her brow furrows, and her mouth moves, like she’s on the precipice of saying something, then she pauses, clears her throat, and picks up her drink instead.
I don’t push her, even though every instinct I have is begging me to. Pushing her would be stupid, and I’m trying very hard not to be stupid around her.
“So, book two, right?” She says, swiftly changing the subject.
“Book two.” I agree, nodding my head.
Bambi moves through the stacks and comes back with the book in hand. She holds it out to me, and when I reach for it, my fingers graze against hers. She jolts at the contact and pulls her hand back before straightening her shoulders and pretending like it didn’t happen.
This is who we are in the daylight. She keeps a barrier between us, calls me her friend, and acts like every small thing I do for her is mildly irritating.
But at night the barrier’s gone and so is the performance.
She stops pretending she doesn’t want me, because there’s no one left to pretend for.
It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough, but it’s what I have. And I’ll take every version she’s willing to give me.
“I’ll see you tonight,” I say, picking up the book and tucking it into the crook of my arm.
“Maybe.” She says coyly, which is daytime Bambi’s version of yes.
I turn to leave and catch Fallon watching us over the lid of her cup. She gives me a quiet, knowing look and raises her half-finished chai in a small toast.
I give her a nod and walk out the door.
Her best friend doesn’t completely hate me. That’s good. My future wife needs someone in her life who isn’t trying to talk her out of this.