Chapter 2
I have to stop for coffee. I can’t survive without it.
“Your usual?” I ask Celine.
She nods. “Bacon, cheese, un—”
“Untoasted—I remember. Anything else?”
“I have no need for your liquid addiction.”
I tuck my smile into my collar as I walk to the door.
Heat blasts me as soon as I enter, a clammy perspiration already clinging to my skin before I get in line. Ma’s old wool coat is perfect when the wind picks up, but right now, it’s stifling.
The coffeehouse is packed. A line of people blocks the register, with more at my back.
The armchair I usually claim on weekends is currently filled by a small child.
Dwarfed in the worn paisley seat, he swings his feet back and forth happily while his mother types on her phone one-handed, brow creased with stress.
I know if she looked over, she’d see the same expression on me, except my stress takes the form of my hard-as-nails boss.
I really hope the barista works quickly this morning.
The new year is meant to be the dawning of a fresh start. Clean slates, all problems left behind. Even the song playing overhead says so.
Performed by the latest top 40 teen star I’ve never heard of, it’s a surprisingly haunting tune about loneliness and love lost. It’s been following me for days. Fate sure has a funny sense of humor.
Eventually, there’s only one customer left in front of me—a tall guy with a man bun and a thick black sweater over expensive distressed jeans.
Please let him be an Americano kind of guy. Straight in, straight out.
He’s not.
As soon as he steps up to the counter, Sarah looks up from the register and beams.
I remember smiling like that once. These days, I’m learning to fold my feelings neatly away, keeping them safe until I can let loose on my best friend. For a city stuffed with people like they’re packing peanuts, Chance doesn’t handle vulnerability well.
Can you tell I’ve heard the word naive a lot since moving here?
“Lucky, hey! This is early for you.” Sarah’s ponytail bounces as she leans across the counter to kiss him on the cheek.
His name is Lucky? School kids must have been ruthless.
“Couldn’t sleep, or you haven’t gone to bed yet?”
“You know I don’t kiss and tell,” he says with a smooth, accented voice.
My chances of ordering soon fade away like a beautiful dream. So close and yet so far. Jeez. I never used to be impatient. Ask anyone. The only person I know who is more patient than me is my older brother, Louis, and he’s so gentle that we’re not entirely sure he’s not adopted.
Two years in Chance really changes a person.
“This is the first time I’ve seen you before lunchtime, so … I’m going to guess whoever’s name you forgot last night kicked you out.”
“All right, go easy.” He laughs. “Honestly, I woke up early and saw what a beautiful day it was. Thought I’d explore the city a bit. I do exist outside of midnight, you know.” He’s British, but there’s something else there, something bouncy and lyrical.
Birmingham maybe? I’m not sure.
As he leans against the counter, I take in the rest of him. Easily six feet, with a trim waist and wired with enough muscle that he could probably push a tractor out of a ditch with his bare hands. The silver around his neck and wrists is thick and flashy, so whatever he does, he does it well.
“Only you would see rain and think it’s a beautiful day,” Sarah jokes.
There isn’t another decent coffee place near the office unless I walk two blocks in the wrong direction.
Sure, we have a machine in the break room, but that coffee tastes of old socks and recycled rubber.
I like the coffee here. It’ll be super inconvenient if I blow up at this guy for taking too long and get banned from coming back.
“Well, whatever the reason, I’m jealous,” Sarah adds. “These exams are destroying my life. It’ll be a miracle if I see the outside before next year.”
Lucky is in no rush, tapping along with the music and still not ordering anything. Did he simply come by to flirt?
“You work too hard,” he says.
My gaze catches on his back as his muscles flex. Someone isn’t skipping the gym.
“A break isn’t going to kill you, you know.”
Something about him scratches like a bad tag under my shirt. I know his type.
Everything from the too-tight-to-be-an-accident knitwear to the I-bet-you-want-me attitude. He expects life to go his way. Everything falls into place for him, no effort required.
He’d probably tell me I’m chasing a fantasy by staying in Chance and ask why I am so hell-bent on becoming a reporter anyway.
Okay, that last one is only Huey.
He always left the heavy lifting to me. I chose to move here. I picked the takeout. I made plans and had to remind him about them. To him, I was a walking day planner/GPS/assistant.
He never made a single decision in our entire relationship. Well, he finally made one, and it was a doozy.
Lucky and Sarah are still talking.
“Easy for you to say. When was the last time you worked full-time?”
“Being talented is a full-time job,” he jokes.
Maybe that’s why I don’t have room for Chad 2.0’s leisurely attitude this morning. Does he not notice how busy this place is? Or is it that he doesn’t value anyone else’s time?
Do they even have Chads in over there in England?
Taking a deep breath helps. Okay, I might be letting stress get to me. It’s not this guy’s fault I’m late after all.
I still need him to hurry it up though. Maybe it’s time to push this along …
* * *
Make Your Choice:
wait (go to 4)
interrupt (go to 6)
go back (go to 1)