Star
“ H e’s coming,” Ruby hisses.
I swat my coworker away with the soapy rag I’m using to write down the espresso machine. “Stop it,” I hiss back as we both watch through the Snowpack Cafe’s wide front window as one of our regulars make a beeline down Heartwood’s main street toward us. “I’m working.”
The older woman rolls her blue eyes. “No reason you can’t combine work and play.”
“There is,” I retort. “For one, because it’s unprofessional.”
“Yeah, but I’m your boss.”
I pop a single eyebrow at Ruby. “So does that mean this is workplace harassment?”
She raises both hands in surrender, eyebrows attempt to hide in her impressive tangle of silver-streaked black curls. “Look, all I’m saying is that you’ve pined over this man long enough. Seize your chance while you still have it.” She lowers her hands, softening. “Trust me, by the time you hit my age, you’ll wish you’d have taken more chances.”
I hesitate at the sadness in my boss’s voice, considering the two decades that lay between us. But then I shake my head and get back to scrubbing down the espresso machine. “Look, I’m only twenty-two. I’ve got plenty of time. And he—” I just my chin at Barrow, who’s just a few paces outside the front door “— is a customer.”
“And?”
“He’s off-limits,” I all but growl as the lanky man lets himself inside. “Now quit it.”
Ruby turns away with a chuckle, waving a silent greeting at Barrow.
Setting the towel aside, I order my thumping heart to calm down, pray that my cheeks aren’t as flushed as they suddenly feel, and turn to face the man that’s approached the counter.
The tall, bearded, devastating gorgeous man.
Barrow smiles.
I swallow. Hard.
“How are you today, ?”
I silently curse myself. I should have said that to him. Customer service and everything.
“Uh,” I croak. “Great. WhadcanIgetya?”
He blinks. “Sorry, what was that?”
Forget cursing myself. I wish I could make like the Wicked Witch of the West and straight-up evaporate in embarrassment.
I clear my throat and try again. “Er, what can I get you today?” Okay good, that sounded normal. Keep it normal , I think, feeling beads of sweat pop on my forehead.
“My usual—” Barrow begins, then stops himself. “Actually, maybe it’s time for something new.” He says the second part as if he’s talking to himself more than to me.
I point to a little chalkboard sign prominently displayed on the counter next to the glass-domed platter of sweet treats made by our local baker, Cookie Cutter (and yes, that really is her name now that she’s married and taken her husband’s name).
“Want to try our special drink of the day?” I shift the chalkboard so Barrow can read the white and purple script.
“A lavender latte?” her reads with a frown. “That sounds like it could either be really good or really bad.”
I shrug. “That’s probably true. For what it’s worth, I really like it.”
He turns his wide, warm smile on me. “Yeah?”
I nod, feeling the flush creep from my cheeks down my neck. “Absolutely.”
“Then I guess I’d better try it.”
Now it’s my turn to smile wide, even though it’s silly. It’s not like Barrow taking my recommendation means anything. But my stupid heart really wants it to.
Besides, I know too well what can happen if you listen to what your heart wants.
Hearts are stupid.
They can get you hurt.
Easily.
Better to shove these feelings away — especially for a customer, which seems off-limits regardless — and protect myself.
So when I take Barrow’s payment, I do so cooly. I thank him in a crisp, professional tone when he tucks a bill and some change into the tip jar, then turn to the espresso machine to make his latte.
Ruby reappears as if by magic, making me jump.
“All ready for the new school year?” she asks Barrow.
He gives a crooked smile that makes my heart flip-flop. Stupid hearts.
“I think so. You know, for as long as I’ve been teaching, I never quite feel ready at the start of the new year.”
Ruby waves him off. “I’m sure you’ll be great. I don’t have kids myself, but I hear only good things about you.”
I steal a glance at Barrow and am both surprised and pleased to see his cheeks flush. Flip-flop, flip-flop .
“I appreciate that,” he’s saying. “I do my best. Besides, I love teaching and love Heartwood, so that helps.”
Ruby leans her head to one side. “Remind me how long you’ve been here?”
“In Heartwood? This is my seventh school year, so just a little longer than that.”
“You moved here from Baltimore, right?” Ruby asks.
“Boston,” he corrects. “Yes.”
“Boston seems so cool,” I blurt as the coffee steams. “I bet city people really have their shit together extra.” God, why am I talking? I sound like an idiot.
To my surprise, Barrow laughs gently. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“I mean,” I press on even though my brain is screaming Abort, abort! I never said I was smart. “Folks must be more sensitive there, since there are so many different types of people squeezed in together, right? There’s got to be more kindness, less bullying.”
Now he’s shaking his head. “I wish that was true. And maybe there is some truth in that — exposure to diversity can help increase tolerance. But also, people are people, no matter where they are. And sometimes, people are unkind.”
“Oh.” I try to wipe the disappointment I’m feeling from my face. Is that really true? I’ve been longing to get the hell out of Heartwood as soon as I can scrape together enough money to go, thinking that life in a big city might be kinder to me.
But what if I’m wrong?
What if people are awful everywhere?
My stomach sours with sadness as I pour frothy milk over hot espresso and lavender essence.
I hear Ruby speaking as if from far away. “You looking forward to this year’s Meet ’n’ Mingle at this school, Barrow?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Not really. I can’t ever find a date, much to Principal Bird’s disappointment.”
I pause as I’m fitting a lid over the cup of coffee. “You’re required to bring a date to a work event?”
“No,” he shrugs. “But also kind of yes.”
“Well, ’s free that night,” Ruby says.
I must be hearing voices.
Maybe it’s sudden-onset schizophrenia.
Because my boss absolutely. did. not. just volunteer me to be Barrow’s Meet ’n’ Mingle date.
My face is hot. No, not just hot. It feels like it’s on fire. Which is fine, because suddenly spontaneous combustion is sounding pretty great.
I turn to Barrow, ready to apologize for Ruby, to laugh it off, anything .
But he’s looking at me with — hope? Interest?
My jaw drops.
This is impossible.
Right?
“Would you,” Barrow says, then stops, seems to give himself a little shake, and starts again. “I mean, if you’d be interested in coming to a school social function with me, I’d love it.”
I should say no.
I should quit the Snowpack Cafe, run into the woods, and never return.
I should definitely not interpret Barrow saying he’d love it if I was his date as him saying he loves me.
And yet.
“I’m in,” I hear myself say, and find myself happily drowning in the beautiful smile that breaks like sunrise across Barrow’s face.