Chapter 19
Something banged onto my table in the café, and I jumped back, nearly losing hold of my sandwich, to see Rei with her golden cheeks tinted pink with rage. “Can you believe this?” She tapped the note for good measure.
“You scared the shit out of me,” I muttered. My heart was still racing as I reached for the plain yellow note. You looked beautiful all dressed up last week. I thought you should know.
My eyebrows rose higher, and my jaw dropped lower. “Rei, this went from nice guy noticing your work to full-blown secret admirer! He totally likes you!”
“It’s weird though!” she said, pacing by my table. A few people around us were casting confused glances our way, but Rei didn’t seem to mind. “Who could it be?”
“Dom would be my first guess,” I said.
She paused her path and stared at me. “Dom?”
“He’s always hitting on you!”
She rubbed her palms over the front of her light-blue jumpsuit. “It can’t be him, right? He’s too outwardly flirtatious. He’d just tell me I’m pretty and move on.”
The mystery was giving me a headache. I rubbed my fingers over my temples to soothe it. “Who then?”
“Come with me.”
I arched a brow. Did either of us really have time to do this in the middle of lunch?
Before I could argue, Rei waved me to follow her through the seating area. “Where are we going on this field trip?” I asked as I caught up to her.
“To get coffee,” she said.
“You seem awake already.”
She gave me the side-eye, and I held back a laugh.
When we reached the coffee bar, Dom was there, leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone. At the sight of us, he perked up. “Did you hear my band has a gig tonight?” He ran his hand through his shaggy blond hair with fading green tips. “I can get you backstage passes.”
“It’s a Monday,” Rei deadpanned.
“Rock has no schedule,” he tossed back.
I folded my arms across my chest, wondering when we would get to Rei’s theory. “Can I have an oat milk latte?” I asked. Might as well while I was standing here.
“Sure thing.” He grabbed a paper cup, writing my order on the side. Rei gave me a meaningful look, and I whispered, “Ohhh.” This was the best way to get his handwriting and compare it to the note.
“What’s up?” Dom asked, looking at me under his floppy hair.
“I forgot to ask for a pump of vanilla,” I said quickly. I actually had, so it wasn’t a lie. Gosh, I was so scattered today. I should be better at keeping my cool.
That same atrocious scent from Golden Café filled my nostrils again, and I looked at Rei. “Did they change the coffee beans here?” This used to be my favorite smell.
She gave me a shrug. But Dom overheard my question. “Same as always. Though I keep pushing for shade grown. You know, it’s the most eco-friendly option.”
“I see.” Dom passed the drink to me. “Thanks,” I said.
Rei and I went to the table where we usually sat together, the one by the window with a view of a cute walking path outside.
A couple was sitting on a bench looking totally in love—like the world around them didn’t exist. And my heart twisted.
I wanted something like that. But that was a foolish dream when I had so little of myself to offer at the moment.
“Moment of truth,” Rei said. She slid the sticky note between us, and I held it up next to my coffee. The writing couldn’t be more different. One was a chaotic, almost illegible scribble. The other was easy to read but untidy, like the writer had been in a rush.
“So who do you think it is?” I asked, passing back the note.
She tucked it carefully in her breast pocket. Her earlier frustration had been replaced with disappointment. “Bryce.”
My gut sank with a swiftness. Apparently, I’d been fooling myself to think I would protect myself from disappointment when it came to Bryce. Because I felt as disappointed as I’d been on prom night when Mason Rogers went home with Agatha Blake instead of me.
I tried to hide the emotion from my face, but that was moot when I noticed Rei’s expression. She seemed just as upset as I felt. “You don’t want it to be Bryce?” I asked her. Thankfully, my voice stayed even despite the ugly jealousy and disappointment tangling in my chest.
“Of course I don’t want it to be him. Not when he was using you to get to me.
” She shuddered. “What a gross game to play. Acting like he doesn’t care for me at all.
Asking my advice to impress you. It was all a show.
” She leaned in closer, eyebrows drawn in frustration.
“The worst part about it is how good of a liar he was. It never even crossed my mind not to believe him when he spoke about you.”
My stomach churned. Was Bryce really a bad guy under the Boy Scout act? “You’re sure it’s him?” He wouldn’t have offered me the pick of three cars this morning if he was secretly pining over Rei… right?
“Who else from here would have seen me at that restaurant?” she countered. “None of the execs were there. Pretty sure I didn’t make it into Page Six. Unlike someone else I know.”
“Wait, what?” I asked. I realized I’d yet to take a sip of my latte, and the cup was no longer warm under my hands when I rolled it between my palms. I definitely didn’t feel like drinking anything now.
She gave me an incredulous stare. “You’re telling me you didn’t see your picture in the news?”
“I don’t read the news,” I reminded her. “It gives me anxiety.”
“Even gossip?”
“I especially don’t read gossip. Celebrities are people too, you know.”
Rei shook her head at me, sliding her phone from one of her pockets—the jumpsuit had too many to count, and I was seriously reconsidering my black jeans and daycare T-shirt. They were cutting into my waist and had no added pockets. What a waste.
A few taps on the screen, and she turned the phone to me.
Sure enough, I saw a photo of Bryce and me standing outside of Golden Café.
My dress looked just as gorgeous as Glamma promised, accentuating my full chest and giving my long legs a moment.
And Bryce? His eyes were on me like Glamma on a shoe sale.
He didn’t look at me like an acquaintance or even a friend.
His gaze was pure molten fire as he took me in.
My stomach swooped with desire before Rei turned the phone back to her, examining the screen, and said, “It’s a great pic of you. We should crop him out.”
I rolled the coffee between my hands again, feeling the cardboard sleeve creases under my palms. “Are you sure it’s him?”
“Like ninety-nine percent,” she said with a sigh.
And here I was, stupidly hanging on to the one percent chance that Bryce Madigan could be who I thought he was.