Chapter 30
thirty
Breathing in the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans, I stand in line at Southern Roast for an afternoon pick me up. It’s busy today. I think there’s something about mildly cooler weather that makes everyone want to seize the opportunity for a cozy drink.
Chase made sure I got home safe last night, but I haven’t heard from him since.
It’s starting to eat at me.
He’s been the one to reach out on most occasions, but while I’m standing here in line, I might as well see how he’s doing.
Candace:
Do you hate your haircut?
Maybe I should have stayed a little longer. I should have wet his hair and styled it so he could see the finished look instead of messing it up and leaving. My teeth sink into my bottom lip at the thought of what happened between us last night. His hands and mouth exploring every exposed part of me .
The buzzing of my phone makes me jolt.
Chase:
Absolutely not. Best haircut I’ve ever had.
No awkward grow out phase necessary.
Relief eases some of the tension I’ve been walking around with all day.
“What can I get for you?”
I look up to find the blonde barista staring at me with big, blue eyes and a dazzling customer service smile.
“Sorry,” I say as I step up to the counter. “A medium peppermint mocha please.”
“Sure,” she says happily. “Can I get a name?”
“Candace.” I pull out my wallet and fish out some cash from one of my clients earlier today.
“You were in here with that guy recently, right?”
My eyes dart up to find her still holding the marker and cup. “Uh. Depends on which guy you’re referring to. Maybe?”
She looks young. Maybe early twenties, and it annoys me even more that Chase tried to ask her out. He’s a grown ass man. Even if he and I don’t turn into anything, he should at least be with someone closer to his age.
She frowns before writing my name and passing my cup off to the other barista. “I think I saw you in here with Chase, right?”
I rock back on my heels. “Ah, that guy. Yes, I do know him.” I hand her the cash, but she doesn’t count it right away.
She’s still just looking at me thoughtfully. “You’re not dating him?”
Unsure how to answer, I eventually settle on saying, “No. No, we’re just friends.”
She nods and lets out a nervous laugh. “Probably a wise choice.” When I stand there, waiting for her to say more, she adds, “Your drink will be right up.”
Eyebrows furrowing, I mutter, “Thanks,” and step to the end of the counter. Has he been coming in here and trying to convince her to leave her boyfriend or something? I want to roll my eyes at the thought.
There’s another text from Chase when I look down at my phone.
Chase:
What’s your favorite Christmas song?
Some variation of Frosty the Snowman plays overhead, and all I can think to say is not this.
Candace:
John Lennon’s Happy Xmas. Why?
The second barista places my drink on the counter, and I thank him. My eyes dart to the girl one last time, but she’s already back to her bubbly self and smiling at the next customer. Turning and walking to the exit, I push the door open with my back and read the messages from Chase.
Chase:
I feel like it says a lot about a person.
That’s probably the least Christmasy of Christmas songs. Are you the Grinch?
I huff and walk toward the salon.
Candace:
Says the man who has no decorations in his apartment.
It takes him a few minutes to respond.
Chase:
I guess I deserve that.
Candace:
Not even a snow globe.
Chase:
You know how I feel about useless products.
AND it has fake snow.
I let out a laugh, but then another piece of the never-ending Chase puzzle clicks into place.
Candace:
Do you think all Christmas decorations are useless?
This time, he answers in a matter of seconds.
Chase:
I think they serve their purpose.
Just not in my apartment.
I shake my head, stopping in front of my salon to text him back.
Candace:
What’s your favorite Christmas song?
My phone vibrates as I pull open the salon door. My client isn’t here yet, so I take my time getting settled with my drink.
Chase:
The one where grandma gets run over by a reindeer makes me laugh.
Candace:
Why am I not surprised?
My fingers hover over the keyboard. I’m tempted to tell him about my weird interaction at Southern Roast just now. I still can’t figure out why she would suggest not dating Chase be probably for the best . What could she know that I don’t?
Chase:
On another note, I was hoping we could get drinks tomorrow, but I don’t think I’ll be able to see you until the party. I didn’t finish all the work I brought home on Tuesday for some reason.
It’s almost like I was distracted or something.
Shit. I totally forgot Tuesdays were bad for him. I was so focused on giving in and finally cutting his hair, I didn’t even pay attention to which day it was.
Candace:
I’m sorry! You could have told me to come over a different night.
Chase:
And risk missing out on all the fun we had?
I let out a breath of laughter.
Candace:
Your job is more important.
Chase:
That’s debatable.
But the boss wasn’t pleased. She’s stressed about the party, and now she’s breathing down my neck on top of it. I’ll probably have to put in some late nights these next couple of days. She wants proposals for three different pitches by end of day Friday.
My heart sinks. Partly for him dealing with his boss, and partly because not seeing him until the party feels like such a long stretch of time. The deeper I fall into Chase, the more anxious I am to be around him again. I’m like a junkie who needs her next fix, and it’s borderline pathetic.
Candace:
Take care of what you need to do.
I add a heart emoji and press send.
Next time I see him will be the performance, except for once, I won’t have to act at all.