3. Nellie
THREE
NELLIE
The Trojan Horse Cafe is the one place in town that serves anything more elaborate than drip coffee, and I’m such a regular when I’m home that whoever is behind the counter has my drink started before I’m through the door. It’s one of the benefits of living in a small town, I guess.
I’m waiting for Enviro Guy, in one of the armchairs at the front of the cafe, hoping he shows up. I asked the barista to put EG’s drink on my tab. I figure he drove here, so the least I can do is buy him a drink. My mind is going a mile a minute as I wait. I’m so unbelievably nervous about seeing him again. Will he be as nice as he was on the train? Does he really want to buy a book? The mental inquisition comes to an abrupt halt when I see him open the door and walk in, bringing the smell of the late spring blooms that decorate the street with him. He gives me a small wave and notices my drink at the same time. He points to the front and mouths that he’ll be right back. I peek around the side of the chair, in time to see the barista pointing towards me and him giving me one of those “That wasn’t necessary” looks .
He’s not wearing a hat so his wavy dark hair on full display. It’s the kind of hair I’d want to run my fingers through if I wasn’t pretending to have a boyfriend. He’s also taller than I remember, although I’m sitting down so maybe it’s a matter of perspective more than anything.
“You didn’t need to pay for my drink,” he scolds, sitting down in the chair across from me. “But thank you,” he tacks on with a smile.
“You drove all the way here, without me even asking, might I add.” I smile back. “How was the drive?”
“Uneventful in just about every way.” He takes the lid of his coffee cup and blows on the dark liquid.
“Just about every way?”
“Some woman dodged out in front of me just as I pulled onto the street here. She came out of nowhere.”
“Ah.” I nod sagely. “That would be Edith.”
“Edith?”
“The town jaywalker.”
He stares back at me. “Town jaywalker, huh? Is that a position one has to apply for or is it inherited, assumed…”
He’s smiling again, and I try really hard not to look at those too-pointy canines, but I know I’m failing. I manage to pull my gaze from his teeth and drag my attention to the street. “Elected. She’s run unopposed in the last four elections.”
“And before that?”
“A guy named Albert Moyer held the position but died before the election.”
“Did he get hit by a car?”
“Would you believe natural causes got him in the end?”
“Well, that’s probably a better way to go.” He chuckles and takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. The contrast between his pale blue eyes and his dark hair is utterly captivating .
“So what book do you want to pick up?” I ask, turning my attention back to my latte.
“The one I’m reading, actually.” I look back up at him, confused. “I fell asleep with it last night, and it no longer meets my sister’s exacting standards.”
“Ah, she’s one of those.” I nod in understanding.
“One of what?”
“A reader that likes their books markless in every way. Someone who wants their books to appear like they’ve never been read.”
“Yes, I guess that is the kind of reader she is.”
“And what kind of reader are you?”
He shrugs. “The kind that borrows books without asking and then falls asleep with them.” I can almost picture him falling asleep mid-chapter, those icy blue eyes growing heavier with each word, the book eventually falling from his grasp. I wonder what he sleeps in. He seems like a boxers and nothing else kind of guy.
He’s giving me a strange look, probably because I’ve been staring at him thinking about him falling asleep in boxers. “Scandalous,” I tease.
“Truly,” he agrees. “So are we going to exchange names or just stick with these fun little nicknames?”
I desperately want to know his name, but I also really like the nicknames. “Nicknames for now, I think.” He nods just as the cafe’s owner walks in and sees me.
“Nellie! Home for the summer?”
EG immediately bursts out laughing.
I glare at him before turning my attention to Mr. Wilson. “I got home Tuesday night.”
“Excellent! I’ll let you get back to your…”—his eyes slide to EG— “morning. ”
As soon as he walks away, EG says, “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen something so perfectly timed in my entire life.”
“Okay, so I guess real names it is.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I like you calling me EG.”
It’s almost flirty the way he says it, or maybe I just want it to be a little flirty. “I like you calling me LG.” I pout.
Enviro Guy is making the kind of eye contact you make when you want someone to know you’re the only one they care about in a room. “I’ll still call you LG. No one else calls you that, right?” Okay, that definitely sounds flirty. I should be mad that he would do that after I told him I have a boyfriend—who doesn’t exist—but still, it’s the principle. And yet I’m ridiculously happy that this nice, attractive, intelligent guy seems happy about a nickname only he gets to use.
“Just you.” I smile into my drink and break eye contact as my face begins to heat. “So you have a sister?” I pull myself together and decide to start getting to know this guy who I want flirting with me.
“A twin sister, actually. I’ve got an older brother as well. You?”
“I have an older sister. She lives in the Philippines with her husband. She’s quite a bit older so I grew up feeling a bit like a spoiled only child.”
“Why do I feel like you aren’t spoiled at all?”
“Oh, I am. I’ve never been a brat, though, so maybe that’s why.”
He’s looking at me as if scanning for signs of brattiness. “No, definitely not a brat.” And now we’re just sort of smiling at each other and I’m beginning to panic. The last time I panicked around him I told him I had a boyfriend, and I’m worried about what might come out next.
“So why does your sister live in the Philippines?” he asks, finally breaking contact to look down into his cup and saving me from spewing some new deception.
“Her husband is a researcher at an endangered bird organization.”
His eyes widen. “More bird people.”
“Sylvia isn’t a bird person at all. I’m still shocked she married one.”
“Well, being interested in all the same things isn’t a requirement for marriage.” He shrugs.
“No, of course not,” I rush to say. “It’s more that she moved to the other side of the world for birds. It’s funny, that’s all.”
“Have you been to visit her?”
“Yeah, we helped them when they first moved. My dad was so excited to get a tour of the facility. It’s actually where I got my first tattoo.”
His eyes grow wide. “You got a tattoo at a bird facility?”
“No, sorry. In the Philippines.”
“What is it?” he asks, leaning forward slightly.
“It’s a scale-feathered malkoha.”
He nods. “Right, the famous scale-feathered malkoha, I know exactly what that is.”
“Oh yeah?” I grin at him.
“Yeah, it’s a bird from the malkoha family with these unique scale-shaped feathers.”
“Nailed it,” I say, not even bothering to hold back my laugh.
“So.” He leans forward and sets his empty cup down on the table. “Where is it?”
It’s on the inner part of my left upper arm and would be easy enough to show him. “On my body,” I smirk back. Rein it in, Nell, the boyfriend remember? The bullshit excuse you gave because this hot guy asked for your number after being nice to you, and you panicked.
“Where on your body?” His eyes sweep over me quickly .
I try not to let myself imagine him searching for it. Those long fingers skimming across my body, hunting. “On my skin.”
His eyes flick to mine, and he swallows before he looks at my arms. “On a limb?”
“Maybe.” Heat spreads through my body. This feels like foreplay, which is wrong, very wrong.
He looks like he wants to keep going, but I’m afraid of where it would lead, of where I kind of want it to lead. I look down at his empty cup and then empty my own. “Should we go?”
He keeps looking at me, his lips twisting knowingly. “Yeah, let’s go buy some books.”
“Keep talking like that, and I may show you anything you want,” I joke. Oh my god, what am I doing? I need to come clean. But this is nice, and what if I make it weird and he leaves?
To his credit he doesn’t say anything inappropriate back, just stands and holds out his hand towards me. I take it, and he hauls me up. I desperately don’t want to be one of those girls who swoon at how perfectly my hand fits into his, but goddammit it does. I don’t have time to appreciate it, though, because once I’m up he lets go. Disappointment floods my entire body, and I’m once again upset that I started this relationship out with a big fat lie.
EG reaches down to pick up his empty cup and my mug and takes them to the garbage and dirty dishes area. Most guys our age would just leave them on the table. He really is just a nice guy who does nice guy shit.
“Shall we?” He gestures towards the door and follows me out the cafe.