36. CORA
CORA
The café patio is strung with lights that won’t be doing much in a few minutes.
The October sun is starting to peek into the sky; it’s the kind of morning that makes everything feel softer, warmer.
A breeze sweeps through, carrying the scent of cinnamon and fallen leaves, and I tug my sweater tighter around me.
Across the table, Brinn props her chin on her hand and stares like she’s reading every thought straight off my forehead.
The only reason I got her to the six a.m. spin class was the promise of coffee and a treat afterward at our favorite spot on campus.
Brinn is just as busy as me, but she’s typically working at a bunch of odd jobs.
Trying to scrape together as much as she can to keep ahead of what she owes for tuition and other bills.
There have been times I've offered her a place to stay—my parents would love it—and cash, but she never takes it.
We find quick pockets of time where we our schedules align and do the best we can.
“Okay. Spill.”
I glance up, trying to trick my best friend. “What?”
Brinn stabs her fork toward me, the tip glinting in the morning sun. “You, Miss Sunshine. You practically danced your way through spin class. Now you’re sitting here glowing like a pumpkin spice ad. Don’t even try to tell me it’s the endorphins. Plus, your lips look awfully pink.”
My lips twitch before I can stop them. A hand flies up, trying to cover them. “It’s nothing,” I protest, way too fast.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Liar. That is not a nothing face. That is a somebody made me come face! Who is he?” She’s beaming, loudly putting her hands on the table. “Oh my god, please tell me it wasn’t Freddy.” Brinn’s face looks like she’s smelling garbage on a hot day.
I choke on a laugh, trying to smother the heat rushing to my cheeks with a long sip of coffee. Thankfully, it’s so early that there’s no one else out on the patio yet. Brinn is relentless, her grin stretching wider with every second I don’t answer.
“You’re insufferable,” I mutter.
She leans forward, eyes glittering like she’s cracked the code. “Lane. It’s Lane, isn’t it?”
My spoon clatters onto the saucer. I freeze, and that’s all the confirmation she needs.
Her jaw drops. Then she smacks the table so hard the silverware rattles. “Oh. My. God. I was like half kidding!” Her voice carries, and the couple at the next table glance over. Brinn doesn’t care. She’s practically bouncing in her seat. She stands and starts to clap for me, loud and proud.
I bury my face in my hands, groaning and laughing at the same time. “Brinn—”
“Don’t you Brinn me! I was so scared you were going to tell me you were screwing around with Freddy.
Let me be excited! This is one thousand times better.
You have to tell me everything. Everything.
” She lowers her voice just enough not to shout the word sex to the whole patio.
“What happened? When did it happen? How? How many times?”
My cheeks burn. “I’m not—”
She points at me like she’s won a prize. “You’re glowing. No one glows like that from a mediocre hookup. Tell me how good the sex was!” Her voice carries and someone out for an early morning run looks over to us.
“You know that we’re in public, right?” I do my best to act like I’m embarrassed but I’ve been dying to tell her.
My chest feels lighter, like the secret was too big to hold on to, and I’m excited to dish. I meet her eyes and let out a shaky laugh. “He was… yeah. It was—” I press my fingers to my lips, searching for words that don’t make me sound completely insane. “It was…” I struggle to find the words.
Brinn lets out a squeal, “Oh my god. Tell me everything! From the top.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop smiling. The leaves scatter across the sidewalk at our feet, gold and red, and for once I don’t try to hide it.
“Only if you promise not to scream again, or yell words that are meant for private conversations, or give me a standing ovation.” I point at her with a grin. She redoes her ponytail, as if she’s locking in, and sits quietly, waiting for the details.
So, I dish. I tell her everything. From Freddy trying to come to my house to Lane making me come in the penalty box. Brinn kicks her feet and covers her mouth when she wants to scream—I appreciate the restraint.
“What does this all mean?” Her hands are pressed to her cheeks with her eyes as wide as the saucers our coffees rest on. “Like. Are you a thing? Was it one time? Oh my god!” Her hands cover her mouth and I can’t hear anything she’s trying to say.
At this point, the redness heating my cheeks might become permanent.
“I have no idea. The only thing he said was that there was no going back—”
Brinn tries to cover her squeal but she barely succeeds. I look around, pretending not to know her, but we’re the only people up this early wanting to be out on the patio.
"You mean to tell me, this man told you… There’s no going back?” She pretends to faint and falls back, hitting the chair. “Coralee Banks. That is one hell of a line.” Brinn fans herself and it’s hard to do anything other than beam at my best friend.
I put my head in my hands, resting my elbows on the table. “God. I know! I know. But like, what do we do? Do we keep it a secret? Will he tell any of the guys? Do I have to disclose anything for the research?”
Brinn almost spits out a piece of her cinnamon roll.
Once she’s safe from choking, she reaches across the table, grabbing my hand and pleading, “For the love of god, please do not talk to me about your research project right now. Unless you’re researching a position I’m unaware of, now is not the time. ”
I can’t help but laugh. My shoulders shake and she matches me across the table.
For the first time in a while, I feel lighter. Happiness cruises through my veins. And you know what? It almost feels like I deserve it.