Chapter 12
twelve
Thanks to my surprise coffee, I’m still full of energy after working later than expected. Amanda was there late too and asked if I wanted to grab a drink. There’s a sit-down restaurant down the street from the salon that has a full bar, so sometimes we come here for wine and appetizers after a long day. Today, Amanda ordered an elaborate Christmas-themed drink with a cinnamon stick poking out of the glass. She hums along to the instrumental rendition of “Let It Snow” playing fully in the holiday spirit, but I keep forgetting it’s December. I don’t know what’s with me this year. I guess most years I get daily calls while my parents transform their house into a winter wonderland, and last year, the bar I worked at had us wear Christmas themed socks and shirts during the month of December. Maybe this is the year for creating new traditions.
Amanda quickly sets down her drink like she’s just remembered something. “I had no idea you were seeing someone!”
“I’m not seeing anyone.”
“But that guy! Who was he? The one who brought you coffee. ”
I’m barely able to stifle a groan. He’s the last thing I want to talk about. Amanda knows a little about my past dating life, but I don’t think I’m close enough with her to divulge my ridiculous crush on a man who never meant to ask me out in the first place.
“Oh, he’s just a friend.” It’s the truth. It is one hundred percent the truth, but it feels like the biggest lie I’ve ever told. As much as I want to only see Chase as a friend, there’s something about him that makes my entire body hum happily. It’s more than genuinely enjoying being around a friend. I think it may even be more than wanting to sleep with him, too. I don’t know a lot about him, but I can see him pulling me into the dangerous territory where those two things merge.
She raises her eyebrows, not believing me. “I wish all my friends looked like that.”
I laugh. “You also thought Miles was hot when you first saw him.”
“Miles is hot.” Her eyes widen. “Oh, that’s why he’s your friend.” She shakes her head. “Damn. I swear they get all the good ones.”
I can’t fight my smile. “No, Chase isn’t gay. He’s just . . .” I shrug. “A friend.”
“I think we should change that.”
“Sure, I’ll get right on it,” I say, but the only thing we need to change is what we’re talking about. “When are you free for me to show you how I layer foils for balayage?”
“I do still want you to do that,” she answers with a sharp nod of her head. “But don’t change the subject. Seriously, Candace, when is the last time a guy brought you coffee?”
After Greg, all my flings were just that—a few overly optimistic weeks or months that always either fizzled out or ended with him not being the man I thought he was.
And that doesn’t even count the last year. For the past twelve months, I haven’t had anything that remotely resembled a relationship. Even the thought of the title feels foreign.
“Yes, Chase brought me coffee. Which is great, but it doesn’t mean anything.” I hold up my phone for her to see. “We barely talk.”
She points. “It looks like someone texted you.”
I turn the screen toward me, and sure enough, a notification from Chase is front and center.
“Is it him?” Amanda asks, and based on the smile in her voice, she already knows the answer.
Opening the message, I read.
Chase:
I need to ask for a favor.
It’s a big favor, and I’m hoping you’ll say yes, but also no pressure.
My heart rate rises at the thought of him needing anything from me. It looks like he sent it only three minutes ago. His ears must have been ringing.
Candace:
I’m not cutting your hair.
It’s the only thing I can think he might need from me.
Chase:
Not that.
Although I do have full intentions of you being the one to cut my hair next.
“What does it say?” Amanda prompts. I almost forgot she was sitting across from me.
“Sorry,” I say as I glance between her and my phone. “He’s asking for a favor. ”
She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Ooh. What type of favor?”
My phone lights up on the table and both our eyes jump to the screen.
As I reach for it, I say, “I guess we’re about to find out.”
Chase:
Will you be my date for my company’s Christmas party?
I know, I know. As friends, but no one else there has to know that.
“He wants me to . . .” I frown at the messages, not sure if I should even open this door. I look up at Amanda and she’s clinging to my every word. It’s too late to backtrack now. “He wants me to go to his company Christmas party with him . . . as his fake date.”
“Yes.” She nods eagerly.
A burst of laughter leaves my lips. “You think I should actually agree to that?”
Somehow, her eyes widen even more. “You have to!” She relaxes a little as she goes on to say, “Listen. I don’t know this guy, but he’s hot.” She points to me. “You’re hot.” She circles her finger in the direction of my phone. “And a fake date situation between two hot people is hot as hell.”
“Right.” I glance down at the screen before looking back at her, silently asking if it’s rude of me to answer.
She waves her hand encouragingly. “Tell him yes.”
But I don’t tell him yes. Instead, I send a text to clarify for good measure.
Candace:
You want me to fake date you at your company Christmas party?
His response comes in right away.
Chase:
Well, when you put it that way . . .
Yes.
I let out a laugh, but I don’t answer him again.
Amanda leans over the table to catch a glimpse of my text. “Did you say yes?”
I shake my head as I set my phone down on the table again. “No, I’ll answer him when I’m home and figure out what’s going on.”
“You’re going to that party. Don’t torture the man by making him wait for an answer.” She holds her glass to her lips. “Do I need to chug this so you can go home and accept the invitation, or do you want to just text him here?” Amanda has never been shy when it comes to her opinion.
“You’re stuck on this, aren’t you?”
She nods. “I am. I saw him today, and that’s reason enough. But I saw you today, too. You like him.”
“I barely know him.”
“But you like him.”
I hold her stare, determined to prove her wrong but also not sure how much it’s worth it. What’s the point of lying to her?
“I might like him,” I finally relent. Holding up a finger, I add, “But he’s made it very clear I’m not his type. This won’t turn into anything.”
“But it could.”
“But it won’t.”
She nods to my phone. “Text him.”
A wave of uncertainty washes over me as I slowly reach for my phone again. Glancing at his last message, I pause before typing one-word.
Candace:
Okay.
My phone buzzes on the table, but this time, it’s not a text—or even a double text. He’s calling me. I’m sure all the blood has drained from my face, considering how much Amanda finds this funny.
“You can answer it!” she says with a laugh.
I shake my head. “No way. I’m here with you.”
She rolls her eyes, but I reject the call before sending him a quick message.
Candace:
Out. I’ll call you on my walk home.
I put my phone down on the table again, determined not to look at it until I leave. When I look up at Amanda, she takes another sip with that same, smug look on her face.
“Do I even want to know what you’re thinking?” I ask, suddenly feeling more tired than I have all night.
She shrugs innocently. “I’ve just never seen you like this. Usually, you get mildly annoyed when guys call you. You’ll wonder out loud ‘Why can’t he just text me?’ I’ve never seen you so . . .” She gestures toward me with a circling hand. “Flustered.”
“I am not flustered.” Even as the words leave my lips, I feel the need to wipe my brow.
“No, definitely not,” she says with a giggle.
“Can you tell me what’s new with you? Please?” I don’t think I’ve ever felt like more of a spectacle.
She nods, finally giving in. To my surprise, she doesn’t bring up Chase or his company Christmas party for the rest of the night. Instead, we laugh, talk hair, and vent about some of the other stylists who never pick up after themselves. Everything starts to settle into our usual night out with drinks, and by the time we’re ready to leave, my breathing comes easier, and my cheeks hurt from laughing.
“Have a great weekend!” She waves as she heads left toward her car, and I go right toward my apartment. “And keep me updated!”
She doesn’t have to say the last part is a reference to Chase. I wave goodbye with a slight shake of my head. It isn’t until she turns around that I’m brave enough to look at my phone again. I can only imagine the chain of messages he sent after I ignored his call.
I stare at my phone screen. There’s nothing. Not a single notification from him. I told him I was out, and that I’d call him after, so why am I so disappointed by the sight?