After school I throw on a sweatshirt, grab my laptop, and head over to Java Joint to study for next week’s Bio test.
For a coffee shop on a Wednesday night, this place is packed. I scan the room and spot an open seat to throw my stuff on before ordering. As I’m waiting for my order I get caught up in a daydream about Sean walking in wearing a tuxedo, playing his guitar. He walks toward me and the crowd and even the tables part in a red sea sort of fashion. He’s singing that song “Will You Marry Me?” but changes the words to “Will You Go to Prom with Me.” Molly Chapman, Jane Hulmes, Sam, and Kendall sit at one of the tables clapping and wiping tears because it’s such a touching moment. The other coffee drinkers and employees do a cutesy flash mob dance that’s sure to go viral. When he finishes, he kneels down with a rose. “Bree. Will you accept this promposal rose?” My coffeehouse fantasy has me deciding whether or not to ask Sean for an encore or just say, “Yes, Sean Mills, of course I’ll go to Prom with you.”
It’s such a corny daydream that I have to bite back a smile. In real life, I’m gripping an iced latte, heading for my table, trying to give off a vibe that says I’m comfortable hanging out at a coffee shop by myself.
And out of nowhere there’s a tight grip and tug on my ankle and I’m falling. Something breaks my fall and I’m knocked into the reality where a backpack strap has somehow weaved itself around my ankle. The harsher reality is Sean Mills’s lap. Yes. Real-life Sean. With my latte. A large chai latte. On his lap. And me. I. Am. Mortified. For a quick second I wonder if I’m stuck in my daydream or it’s a bad dream or something else, anything else. Nope. I’m still here on my knees staring at Sean’s wet crotch. If I were in a sitcom, this is the part where I’d be all “Omigod I’m so sorry!” and try to dry his button fly with one napkin or the sleeve of my shirt.
But everything inside me stays doe-in-headlights as Sean winces and says, “I’m so glad this is iced.” He laughs and grabs a pullover he had strewn over his seat to pat dry his pants. “Bree, are you okay?”
Silence. I want to say something but my mouth isn’t working.
“Bree?”
“Um, omigod, I’m so sorry, are you okay?” I ask as he pulls me up to my feet. He uses his shoe to slide a few scattered ice cubes to the side. I glare at my feet as if the backpack on the floor owes me an apology. “I can’t believe I did that. I’m really so sorry. What can I do, I mean, um …”
“I think I’ll be all right. But you might have to promise me your firstborn in case I’ve lost my ability to procreate.”
“Seriously? Are you really okay then because––”
“I’m just kidding, it’s fine. These jeans are pretty heavy-duty, can’t feel a thing. But since I don’t have an extra pair of jeans, do you think you could drive me home?”
“Of course, I mean really, I should be offering you my jeans.”
A barista sneers my way as she mops the coffee from the floor. I speed walk toward my table to grab my stuff and almost run right into Jane Hulmes, who, phone in hand, fingers and thumbs dancing away, is clearly walking and texting.
She lifts her head and sweeps over me with these gorgeous deep brown saucer eyes. If they weren’t projecting that gleam of mean, I’d probably be offering to buy her a biscotti. “Excuse me Britney.”
“Uhh-sorry?” I ask. I mean, really. She wasn’t watching where she was going either. “Bree. My name’s Bree.”
“Oh yeah, I know that, my bad. Okay, well, excuse you. You almost ran into me.”
“Sure. Sorry,” I say with a tight smile as she turns on her high-heeled boot. I sigh and grab my stuff. As I’m walking back to Sean’s table I realize I’m following Jane.
I hope she’s not going where I think she’s—
Both of us end up at Sean’s table and, um, yeah, awkward. Sean tells Jane he’s gotta go and is leaving with me. She shoots me another evil laser eye beam and I shrug, pretending to blend alongside two of the prettiest people at Belmont High.
Jane shifts her gaze from me to Sean. “You didn’t drive? I can bring you.”
“It’s okay, I don’t …” I say.
Sean says, “She’s going my way anyway.”
“Still. It’s cool, Britta, I’ve got it.”
My eyes bounce back and forth between Sean and Jane as I gnaw the inside of my cheek.
“Britta, like the water filters?” Sean asks Jane and rolls his eyes, “C’mon Jane. You know her name’s Bree. I gotta get going. I’ll see you in Geometry tomorrow.”
“Fine.” Her eyes bug out a little and she shrugs. “Well, try to have an answer for me by tomorrow please.”