She rolled her eyes, and moved away. “I said I was sorry!”
“What? No offer to kiss it better?” She raised an eyebrow, but I swear her eyes dropped to my lips for just a second. I thought of kissing her, just doing it, without thinking about the fact that we didn’t know each other or about her real boyfriend. But she stood, and the moment passed.
She said, “Well, Cade Winston, I really have to get going. I’m already late for my band practice, but can you come over early tomorrow before my parents arrive? We can map out the rest of our story then, so there’s no more need to improvise with hugs.” She grabbed a pen from her purse and wrote her address and her number on a napkin.
I pocketed it, threw my empty cup in the trash, and followed her to the door. I knew she said she had to go, but I wanted just a little bit longer with her. “You never got to drink your coffee,” I said, thinking back to when she’d dropped it earlier during the phone call from her parents. “Let me get you another cup.”
She shook her head. “I should be the one buying you coffee.”
“You’re having a stressful morning. You deserve a break.” She looked at me like I’d just made some grand gesture. Her boyfriend must have been a real dick if she was impressed by a cup of coffee. I added, “Besides, I don’t actually drink coffee, so it’s a moot point.”
She laughed. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever actually heard someone say ‘moot point.’ And if you don’t like coffee, what are you doing in a coffee shop?”
“I was supposed to pretend to be a girl’s long-lost brother, but she canceled at the last minute. It’s cool, pretend boyfriend gigs are so much more fun.”
We stepped up to the cashier, and she said, “Medium coffee.”
I watched her mix in a cream and two packets of sugar. As she stirred the drink, she eyed me like I was a puzzle to piece together.
“You’re kind of funny, Winston.”
She took a sip of her coffee, and what was left of her lipstick left a red smudge on the rim of the cup. It drove me crazy.
I said, “I’m more than kind of funny. You’ll see.”
“And cocky.” She smiled up at me. “You’re a little hard to puzzle out, you know.”
“I’m willing to spend as much time with you as you’d like while you try to figure me out.”
She laughed. “Let’s just stick with tomorrow for now. See you later, boyfriend.”
“Until tomorrow, Mackenzie.”
She made a noise halfway between a scoff and a laugh, and shook her head. As she pushed open the glass door at the front, she called over her shoulder, “You do not want to play that game, honey.”
She looked back just for a second as she crossed the street, and her eyes met mine through the window. A thrill bubbled up in my chest that reminded me of a race, of auditioning and fighting for a role that I knew should be mine.
I stood there like an idiot watching her leave until the cashier said, “Hey man, did you need something else?”
“No, I’m good, sorry.”
I stepped out into the crisp winter air thinking about how good I really felt. She didn’t know how right she was. This whole thing was a game. She wasn’t my girlfriend, even if her parents did love me. Especially because her parents loved me. I’d never dated a girl like her, and she’d probably never dated a guy like me. But sometimes you don’t know what you’re looking for until it’s already knocked you flat on your back. And what was the point in living if I was only going to travel the same roads again and again?
I replayed the last twenty minutes or so in my mind—our conversation, the meeting with her parents, seeing the way her face went red when she was mad. Maybe I was broken, but even the slap had felt kind of good.
Despite the absolute absurdity of everything, it was the most normal I’d felt in months. Like the clouds had finally parted. Like I’d pulled my foot free from being stuck in the past and had stepped into the now.
It felt better. And I was determined for it to stay that way.
It was time to start living, to actually enjoy my life. And I just so happened to know someone who was really good at enjoying life.
I dropped my stuff off in my apartment, and then went across the hall. I rapped my knuckles against my neighbor’s door and called, “Milo! You home?”
The sound of some kind of Latin music, salsa maybe, was leaking out from underneath the door, so I knew he was home.
“Milo!” I pounded against the door a few more times.
The door flew open, and Milo lowered a pretty brunette into a dip so fast that her head nearly hit me in the crotch. I jumped back.
Milo grinned up at me, his teeth white against his dark skin. He pulled the girl up against him fast, and her curls went flying.
I glanced at my watch.
Only Milo would be doing the salsa in his living room at 10:00 A.M.
“Too loud, amigo? I’ll turn it down.”