Chapter 27 Viv
Viv
Ifucked up. I know I did. Everyone knows I did.
But I still stand by what I said. We weren’t dating.
Because I don’t date.
The idea of committing to one person—to Micky—is enough to give me nightmares and scary flashbacks.
I know that relationships are the kiss of death.
I know how much empty promises can hurt.
I know what it feels like when someone is your whole world, and then that world goes away.
I never want to feel that empty again. I don’t think I’ll survive it.
But I won’t survive losing Mickey as a friend, either.
How have I made such a mess of things? It’s been a week since our meltdown at the Frozen Four celebration. Seven freaking days.
Seven days since Mickey walked away from me.
Seven days since I didn’t go after him.
Seven days since I’ve felt like myself.
The beauty of casual hookups is that they aren’t messy, and yet, here I am, right in the thick of drama.
Spring Break is in full swing, and Maggie and JT took Calla to the beach for the weekend, which means I’m all alone until they get back later tonight. I’m not the only person on campus, but it feels that way.
My mind knows I need a pick-me-up that even hot yoga could never provide, so that must be why my feet have led me to the front door of Drip, the best coffee shop on the Eastern Shore.
Theo, my friend and favorite barista, smiles when he sees me.
I know he’s already started making my Raspberry Iced White Mocha when I step up to the register and give my order to the new girl.
She punches it in and I swipe my card before taking a seat on one of the stools at the end of the counter.
A few minutes later, my drink magically appears. And so does Theo.
“I always order a medium,” I say, eyeing up the big-ass cup.
He sits next to me, pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and smiles.
“Yeah, but the look on your face when you walked in said that maximum amounts of mocha and raspberry were necessary. I only gave you one shot of espresso, though, because otherwise you’ll be up all night spiralling about whatever has you looking so lost.”
I shoulder bump him. “You’re the best. Thanks.”
“You’re correct. I am the best,” he says, taking a sip of his own drink. “And your obsession with fruity drinks helps to keep this place afloat, so I figure I’ve got to keep you happy. But right now, you don’t look happy. What’s up?”
I shake my head. “You don’t have time to play therapist. Don’t you have a coffee shop to run?”
“I’m taking my fifteen,” he calls, alerting the other baristas, then he turns back to me with a toothy grin. “I’m on my break. Besides, you’re graduating soon. How many more opportunities will I have to help solve all your problems?”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t solve all my problems. Maggie helps, too. And so do the raspberries. It’s a team effort.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Want me to text Mags? I can rustle up a cookie for the munchkin and we can all weigh in on whatever has you looking like you want to scream, punch something, and then burst into tears.”
It’s a sweet offer, and any other time, I’d love to sit around and commiserate about the stress of daily life.
But this isn’t just a regular stressor. And since it involves Mickey and the hockey team, it feels a little weird talking to Maggie about it.
She’s always got my back, I know, but she loves Mickey, too.
“She’s on a little family vacay, and I should get to the library soon, though. I’ve got work to catch up on and now seems like a good time to get it done.”
Theo laughs. “You’re trying to get rid of me, Viv, but it’s not gonna work. What’s going on? Is it the cheer drama? Because a couple of your girls were in earlier today, but they looked a lot less lethal than last time they stopped in for lattes, so I figured things had calmed down.”
“It’s not that. It’s …personal.” I take a sip of my drink before I continue, because if Theo wants to duck out of this conversation, I won’t blame him.
We’ve only ever been friends, but I got the feeling he was crushing on me for a while there last year, so I tried to tread lightly.
He’s too much like a brother to me for there to be any spark between us.
We’ve got great chemistry as friends, but that’s all.
It’s the complete opposite of what I feel with Mickey.
That’s friendship, too, but I also want to rip his clothes off.
“Viv? You still with me? Maybe you need that extra shot of espresso after all?” Theo asks, waving his hand to get my attention.
“Yeah, I just spaced out for a second. You sure you’re up for playing therapist?”
“Give me one sec. I might need more coffee for this.” He stands and steps behind the bar, then fills his half empty cup with a dark brew before coming back and sitting down next to me.
“You are a mystery, my friend,” I say, shaking my head at his drink choice. “You work in a coffee shop, but you drink plain coffee? Isn’t that against the rules?”
“Nope, and trust me, I checked the manual. Twice. Now, stop stalling and tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help. Baristas are a lot like bartenders, you know? We give great advice.”
I take another sip of my cold, sugary drink because I am stalling.
I need someone to talk to, but the idea of rehashing my epic fight with Mickey?
Ugh. It’s overwhelming. Maybe I can just talk in hypotheticals.
I won’t give all the details, just enough so I can get some outside perspective.
This could be tricky, because subtlety is not my style.
I’m a straightforward kinda gal. But the situation calls for discretion, so I’ll dig down deep and see what I can drum up.
“Do you have a cat, Theo?” I ask, doing my best to string metaphors together in my head.
He gives me a funny look, but he answers me without question. That’s a good friend. “No cats. I’m allergic.”
“That’s the saddest thing I’ve heard today.”
“The saddest thing I’ve heard today is your attempted cat metaphor, but please, continue.”
Ignoring his remark, I start weaving my very clever—and cryptic—tale.
“Let’s pretend you aren’t allergic. And that you love cats.
All cats. Tabbies, Himalayans, even those bald ones.
You just love cats. But you don’t own one.
It’s too much of a commitment, you know, because you hate to leave it at your apartment when you’re not home, and you’re terrified of being a bad cat dad. You with me so far?”
He blinks at me comically. “Oh, I’m with you, cat dad-issues and all. Keep going…”
“So, you don’t have a cat of your own, but let’s say you start cat-sitting. For a friend. A really good friend. And it’s great, at first. You and the cat get along so well. It’s like you’re in sync. You just get each other, which is wild because, this cat? He’s kind of high strung. But so are you.”
“Hypothetically,” Theo interjects.
“Right, of course. Hypothetical Theo is also high-intensity. And you’d think that maybe you and the cat would be too much together? Like, every night would be a crazy catnip fest, and sometimes it is. But sometimes the two you just curl up like little cinnamon rolls and snuggle.”
“Does this cat also make biscuits?” Theo asks. “Because that little kneading thing cats do with their paws? That’s pretty freaking cute.”
I nod, because he’s right and because I love that he’s playing along. “This cat basically runs a biscuit empire. That’s how good he is at making biscuits.”
“Good to know,” Theo quips, taking a drink. “But what’s the problem? You—I mean, Hypothetical Me—seems happy catsitting.”
“I am! I mean, you. You are. But it’s getting complicated, which sucks because the whole point of catsitting was to avoid complications and now there’s a huge pile of complications.”
“Okay,” Theo says easily. “What kind of complications? We can unravel them like yarn. Because, you know, cats.”
“There are a lot of strings,” I warn him.
“Like, you’re just supposed to be catsitting, not cat-having.
It was never supposed to be permanent. Because you don’t want that.
And even if you did, you can’t have it anyway.
You’re leaving soon. You’ll be traveling the world and having grand adventures. That’s not good cat dad behavior.”
Theo mulls my words over and frowns. “Then I should just catsit.”
“But that’s the problem. You want to catsit all the time.
Like, non-stop. Like, hanging out with this cat is your life’s purpose.
It brings you joy and comfort and peace.
And you do the same for this cat. You and this cat are a dynamic duo.
But this cat? It wants a permanent home.
And you can’t do that. It’s literally the only thing you can’t give this cat you adore. ”
“I see,” he says, strumming his fingers on the countertop. “And I can’t change my mind? I mean, if I adore the cat, why can’t I keep him?”
“You can’t do that. You are not a cat owner.
And you can’t pretend to be one. What if you try to adopt this cat and your allergies start acting up?
Then you’ll both be heartbroken. Besides, he’s not your cat.
And he lives here. And you’re leaving. He can’t just follow you around because it’s fun.
And the worst part is, you had a big fight with this cat.
A terrible one. He wants to be your cat, but you told him you can’t do that.
Ever. And it crushed him. Even though he already knew you were just catsitting him.
It was never supposed to be a forever kind of thing. ”
Theo’s watch beeps, signaling that his break is over, and that’s okay because I should get to the library anyway. I had no intention of going there, but since it’s the line I told Theo, I feel like I have to honor it.
I drink the last of my raspberry mocha before placing the empty cup in the plastic bin. Theo drains the last of his coffee and offers me a sweet smile.
“I should get back to work,” he says, straightening his apron.
“Yeah, and I should get to the library.” He stares at me for a long second and that’s when I realize I’m standing in front of him in a hot pink sports bra and leggings—nothing wrong with that— and carrying only my keys and my water bottle.
I have no backpack, no laptop. Not even a notebook or a pen.
“Well, before you go hit the books,” he says with a laugh, “let me say one thing.”
“Hit me,” I say, taking a calming breath.
“I’m not just allergic to cats. I’m severely allergic to cats. I break out in hives, my throat swells, my eyes get so puffy I can barely see. It’s bad. But if I found a cat who makes me as happy as you’ve been lately? The struggle might just be worth it.”
I take the hug Theo offers, and I wonder if I’m brave enough to take his advice.