Chapter 3
For whatever it’s worth, I love that I can talk about sex with a guy without it being extremely awkward. We’re just two friends having a conversation.
Would I talk about sex with anyone else? Of course not. You couldn’t pay me any amount of money. Okay, actually I would gladly take a million or two. So, pay up. But that’s beside the point. Ryan is the person I can talk to about anything and not feel picked apart or judged.
There are times when he does judge me because I’m not a people pleaser like him.
I don’t go out of my way to help others.
I have a guilty conscience of it, but I’m not all sweaty with apologies over it.
Okay, so don’t judge me. But I cut people off in traffic.
I’m that car racing past everyone to cut in front of the line of cars at the very last second.
I’m also the person who takes the last piece of pizza, or even worse, I’ll eat all the watermelon or the ice cream, whatever delicious food there is, I have no shame.
And yeah, Ryan judges the crap out of me for it.
I remind him that we can’t all be the same.
I’m not perfect. It’s okay that we’re opposites, we can balance each other out when needed. I think he’s accepted it.
So, that’s why I lied about the vanilla sex.
I don’t usually lie. I actually didn’t lie about the orgasm part.
Jacob has yet to make me, but I, like any human on planet Earth, enjoy the different positions sex has to offer.
I didn’t want to get Ryan all bent out of shape about his boring sex life while I bragged about my exciting one.
I don’t need my best friend to know that I love doggy style or getting railed from the side.
See, don’t judge me. But with Jacob, it’s not this natural thing for him.
If anything, he’s more of a vanilla sex guy.
Wow, I think me and Ryan must be dating the same type of person.
Which makes me wonder if Ryan would like sex the same way I do? Nope. Not going to imagine that.
I waltz out of his place and drive to my coffee shop.
The manager has already opened up shop. My store is bright and shiny, and oh so modern.
The graphic designer I hired for this place did a stellar job.
The words Baddie Addie’s Coffee Shop are in bold letters in black stretched serif font.
The menu design is out of this world. Hand-drawn with the best mini coffee details, some quotes, and a list of fabulous coffee drinks.
I wish I could say this is a normal coffee stop but it absolutely isn’t.
Not with the amazing specialty drinks, my special blend, and the amazing location.
Not to mention that the owner is rather a dazzling ball of sunshine that customers love to visit daily.
I’ve made a lot of friends. Yeah, I’m smiling ear to ear.
The line is already packed, so I hop behind the counter and start helping after greeting a few of our regulars.
The many orders I hear are Baddie Addie, Cryin’ Ryan, Gone Mads, Stickler, and Peep to the Pops.
I designed this place to be like a bar but for coffee.
Black accents. Modern. Pops of color. The wall art consists of ready-to-sell paintings from artists wanting to sell their pieces.
We have sold a few already. I may have bought a few for my home.
My employees are required to wear bright clothing.
The cups are colorful. We have a wall with pops of color with a modern font design.
It’s all meant to be lighthearted and fun.
When Ryan walked in here for the first time, I will never forget his smile.
“Wow,” he said in awe. “This is–” He spun around to take it all in. When his eyes landed on mine, he smiled. “This is exactly your vibe.”
I smiled back at him because I knew he would understand the vision, the vibe, and the aesthetic that I’m going for.
When it comes to business, you want the customers to feel welcomed, safe, happy, and satisfied.
And this decor wouldn’t mean anything if our coffee sucked.
I’ve had this idea brewing for years throughout college, and Ryan always encouraged me to chase this dream.
He is the one who got me this location through a friend of a friend, and sometimes I believe he’s the best person walking this planet.
He is definitely the best friend anyone could ever ask for.
For this place to only be alive for eight months, my heart still swells with pride whenever I’m in here.
I did this. And I’m proud of it. Except for that line of vases along the window, Ryan did that.
All shapes and sizes, color-stained glass.
It was a gift from him. They’re hideous.
He thought it matched my aesthetic, and I didn’t have the guts to tell him I hated them.
So now they’re sitting there, and I always look at them to remind myself that Ryan means well and I’m just a prude.
“Hey, Baddie Addie,” a regular customer calls over the counter. I smack my lips in delight at the old man’s face. He claims the table by the vases as his favorite spot to work, and I’m just so glad someone appreciates those disgusting vases.
“Mr. Taylor,” I smile, looking for the peppermint candy I keep in stock for my happy customers. “Heads up!”
I throw the candy over the counter as he hoorays. He turns his head to his table and then looks back at me.
“Baddie Addie, when are you going to put flowers in those vases?” he asks at least once a week.
I look over at the vases, wishing I could remove them from my sight. “When I date the right man who will bring me flowers.”
“Ah.” His lips smack. “Good luck finding one of those today.”
I bite my lip and point my finger guns at him. “I’ll take all the luck I need. Enjoy.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Ryan Wilder: You’re coming to the game tomorrow, right?
Baddie Addie: No, I actually can’t make it.
Ryan Wilder: What? Why?
…
Ryan Wilder: If you don’t come, we’re going to lose.
Baddie Addie: That’s a weird lie you’ve told yourself. I’m no good luck charm.
Ryan Wilder: You are mine
I stare at the phone for a moment and overthink.
I suck in a breath and shove my phone back into my pocket.
I can’t go to the game because I’m starting a new job.
If I tell Ryan that’s the case, he’s not going to let it go.
I don’t know why he’s convinced I’m his good luck charm.
We’ve had this argument before, and he seriously believes I’m good luck.
It’s a lot of pressure to put on me. But he seriously won’t like hearing that I need more money. Not when he’s loaded.
Ryan Wilder: Please
Baddie Addie: I can’t. Sorry.
There’s a loud knock on my apartment door. Ryan, the yes man, walks right in because he has a key. I’m sitting on my couch when he steps in.
“Baddie,” he calls out, noticing me on the couch.
I check the time, and he must’ve gotten off practice twenty minutes early. I’m still in the same clothes from work. As soon as I came home and sat on the couch to do some accounting for the coffee shop, I couldn’t get back up.
“How can I help you?” I ask as he heads towards my fridge. He opens it and pulls out an Olipop. When he chugs it, his shirt rises, and my heart races at the sight of his hip bone.
He puts the can on the counter and says, “I really need you to come to the game.” He walks behind the couch I’m sitting on. He’s so tense, and I wonder if it’s his dad that’s stressing him out. “We’re playing against the Saints tomorrow. They’re better than us, and we can’t afford to lose.”
I stand, meeting him in the forced hallway of my couch and kitchen counter.
It’s a tight squeeze, a one-way lane. Then his eyes do something they never do.
His gaze flicks down my body and then they dart back to my eyes.
A silent moment passes between us, and I’m screaming at the gut feeling to shut up because there’s no way Ryan Wilder just looked at me like anything more than a friend. A “sister”. A bestie.
I collect my thoughts, remembering what he just said. “Ryan,” I say, grabbing his shoulders. He’s defeated, and I know something else is going on with him. His eyes never look at me sideways. I ask, “Is it Hailey?”
He shakes his head. “What? No. We’re fine.”
“Your dad?”
“No,” he says. And now I’m confused by the sad puppy dog eyes. “It’s you.”
“Me?” I mutter.
He frowns. “Yeah. You’re not coming, and you’re acting like it’s not a big deal. What are you not telling me?”
I walk away from him, and he says, “See what I mean.”
I sigh. “Ryan, that’s not fair.”
“You can talk to me about anything.”
“Yeah, well, it’s embarrassing to admit that I can’t afford this place anymore. Rent was raised by a few hundred, and I need to get another job.”
I try to walk away again, but he grabs my hand and pulls me to him. It’s intensely intimate, and I’m staring at him while the heat from his hand radiates in my palm. He rips his hand away from mine, probably realizing how affectionate that was.
“Baddie, you work way too much,” he states pointing at the paperwork all over the coffee table.
I chuckle. “I do not.”
He protests, not letting me finish. “Yes, you do. You work way too hard day in and day out for your coffee shop. There has to be something else you can do. Maybe let go of one of your workers.”
I shake my head at that crazy idea. “I’m not doing that.”
He holds his hands and says, “I know, but hear me out. It would cut costs–”
“I hear you, Ryan, but that’s not happening.
Every business has its costs, and I won’t sacrifice what’s working well because my rent increased.
” Ryan shakes his head and softly says, “I know you’re figuring things out on your own.
You’re very good at that but let me remind you that your best friend lives in a mansion all by himself where you could live without any expenses. ”
I burst out into laughter. “You’re kidding, right?”
His eyes are wide, wondering what he said to make me laugh.
“Ryan,” I scold. “I am figuring it out. I’m not going to live with you.” I lean in. “Are you crazy? I’d have to hear you have vanilla sex with Hailey every weekend?”
This makes him smile, and I’m happy for it.
I pat his chest and then shake his shoulders.
“Ryan, it’s just another job. It’s not the end of the world.
I’m completely capable.” He’s about to argue, so I shush him with my finger.
“Ah, Ry, please, don’t offer me any money because I will not be taking it from you.
This is what it’s like to be an adult, and I’m figuring it out.
I can’t come to your game because I’m starting a new job.
And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it. ”
A different look takes over his face. He forgot that’s how this conversation started. Before he can say anything, I’m already on it. “You’re the China Wall in the NHL. A puck? It’s meant to go into the net, and it’s okay if it gets past you. You forget who you are sometimes, Ryan Wilder.”
He looks like he has other things on his mind as he looks up at me. He offers a quick smile.
“Now, get home because you smell like you need a shower.”
He chuckles. “I put on like five layers of cologne before I came here.”
“Exactly,” I say.
“Is that why you don’t want to live with me?”
I glare at him, pressing my lips together.
His eyes stare straight into mine. “Move in with me, Baddie.”
His nickname for me is iconic. He gave it to me on a friendly drunk night and it stuck. Now that I have the coffee shop, which he helped name, everyone in town calls me Baddie Addie.
“Let it go,” I scold him. “Plus, I’m going to have so much fun at my new job.”
“Shit,” he mutters. “Where is it?”
I smile. “I have that regular who comes in. Mr. Taylor? Yeah, he owns the sports bar downtown.”
He shakes his head. “A bar? Of sports?”
I shrug, smiling. “I’m good at making drinks. What can I say?”
He looks like he could throw up.