6. Hendrix
HENDRIX
T hrough Tucker's front window, I watch Colette step into Daisy's Bakery across the street. Even bundled in her winter coat, she moves with that same graceful purpose as I remember.
"Earth to Hendrix." Tucker waves his hand in front of my face. "Your coffee's getting cold, man."
"Sorry." I tear my eyes away from the window. "Just thinking about what a jerk I was in the gym yesterday."
"Ah yes, the great Christmas pageant showdown. Word travels fast." Tucker slides into the chair across from me. "Though honestly, it sounds exactly like how you two were in high school. Why do you always turn into a twelve-year-old around her?"
I groan, slumping in my chair. "I don't know! Back in high school, I'd see her in the lunch room reading or whatever, and my brain would just... short circuit. Next thing I knew, I'd be launching spitballs.”
"Real smooth."
"I know." I groan, slumping forward. "I see her and suddenly I'm sixteen again, calling her 'Shakespeare' or 'Professor' just to get her attention."
"While she was busy making googly eyes at Liam." Tucker smirks.
"Don't remind me." The memory still stings. "Mr. Perfect Grades, Perfect Hair, Perfect Everything."
"While you were..."
"Trying to make her laugh by putting a rubber snake in her bookbag." I wince at the memory. "She screamed so loud the vice principal came running."
Tucker snorts. "Romantic."
"I thought if I could just make her notice me..." I trail off, watching her through the window again, laughing at something Daisy said. "I had such a massive crush on her back then. Still kind of do, if I'm being honest. But every time I'm around her, I turn into this... this..."
"Complete disaster?" Tucker offers helpfully.
"Thanks buddy."
"Hey, you said it yourself - you're still that sixteen-year-old kid, young and dumb and?—”
"You know what she told me once? That Liam was 'going places' while I was just going to the penalty box."
"Ouch."
"Yeah."
"You know," Tucker says, "most people just say 'hi' when they like someone."
"Yeah, well." I fidget with my coffee cup. "Clearly, I missed that lesson."
"So what are you going to do about it?" Tucker leans forward, that dangerous gleam in his eye that usually means trouble.
"About what?"
"Colette. Come on, man. You're not a pimple-faced teen anymore. You're a professional hockey player."
"Who's currently benched." I slump further into my chair.
"Perfect timing then. No distractions." Tucker drums his fingers on the table.
"Have you met Colette? I take a sip of my now-lukewarm coffee.
"Sounds like you're chicken."
"I am not chicken." I straighten up.
"So why don't you just ask her out?" Tucker leans back, that annoying know-it-all smirk spreading across his face.
"I could ask her out if I wanted to."
Tucker's mouth curls into that lopsided smile I recognize from our poker nights.
"Look, if you're so confident about your chances with the Ice Queen..."
"Ice Queen?"
"That's what everyone calls her. She's turned down half the eligible guys in town. Even that hotshot lawyer from Toronto who came specifically to ask her out."
I nearly choke on my coffee. “Lawyer? What lawyer?”
"Tell you what. Let’s make it interesting." Tucker drums his fingers on the table. “I bet… you can't get her to go on a date with you."
I straighten up. "What?"
"And kiss under the mistletoe before Christmas."
"You want to make a bet with me. About my love life?”
"Scared?" He arches an eyebrow.
"No, but..."
"Then put your money where your mouth is. Or better yet..." His eyes light up. "That mint condition Boba Fett figure you've got."
I clutch my chest in mock horror. "Not Boba! He's never even seen air outside his package!"
"Exactly. That action figure's been calling my name for years.”
"No way! That's worth-"
"What? Afraid you'll lose?"
I look across at Daisy's Bakery where Colette's still chatting, probably plotting my demise after yesterday's gym incident. Getting her to date me seems about as likely as scoring a hat trick blindfolded.
"What's in it for me?"
He throws up his hands. “You get the girl, man!”
“No, no. If I’m putting Boba on the line, you need to ante something just as valuable.”
Tucker leans back, crossing his arms. "Fine. If you win, I'll give you my original 1977 Star Wars movie poster. The one you've been drooling over since middle school."
"The one with Luke and Leia that hung in your dad's den? Signed by Mark Hamill?"
Tucker grits his teeth. “Yes.”
“And… you’ll let me use your coffee shop after hours for a private date night. Full service, candlelight, the works."
“Seriously man?”
“And your famous tiramisu too. The one you only make for 'special occasions.”
Tucker drums his fingers on the table. “You drive a hard bargain, my man.”
“Don’t sound so surprised. And when I win, that poster better not have any coffee stains on it."
"But if you lose..."
"Which I won't."
"IF you lose, Boba Fett is all mine.”
“Fine.” I extend my hand.
Tucker grabs it, grinning like he's already won. "You've got until Christmas Eve, buddy. That's two weeks to melt the Ice Queen's heart."
"How hard can it be?" I try to sound confident, but my stomach's doing flips.
Tucker squeezes my hand and pulls me forward until my elbow hits the table. "Just remember,” he says, “Actual date, actual kiss, actual mistletoe. No cheating."
"You have my word,” I glare right into his eyes. “But if I find you trying to sabotage?—”
“I won’t have to.” He smirks and lets go of my hand standing up to get back to work. “Oh and Hendrix…” Tucker pauses dramatically. “May the Force be with you. You're gonna need it."