My phone, annoying as ever, but at least this time it抯 not a reckless little boy I抎 love to push off the top of the Space Needle.
My body is on fire. I抦 so wet I抦 in no mood for cinnamon roll duty today. Especially for a man who isn抰 welcome in my dirty dreams.
I wish he抎 get over his addiction already.
Why can抰 my day start with a nice brisk ride to the office instead of having to make a mad dash for some overprivileged suit抯 pastries?
Why couldn抰 I have bought that Bitcoin crap back when I was a pimple-faced part-timer at Amelia抯 Bed and Breakfast? I could抳e sold it for a billion dollars by now and had all the time in the world to write poems about good men who don抰 suck.
I practically crawl through a cold shower and shake off like a dog because...yeah, it抯 that kind of day.
After blow-drying my hair as fast as I can, I throw on the first dress my hands touch and shove my feet into ballet flats梕asier to bike in than heels.
I抳e just hopped on my bike when my phone pings.
Oh, Lincoln effing Burns, can抰 you even wait until I get to the office to start harassing me? I pull out my phone. I have two texts.
Lincoln: Extra cinnamon rolls today.
I grit my teeth and don抰 even cringe at the sensation.
All I can think about is my dream, and him, thrusting like he抯 staking his claim.
Sad.
Stress does atrocious things to the brain. I shake it off, rolling my shoulders as I type, Roger. Extra, you sad little addict.
His reply comes zooming in.
Little? Try again, Nevermore. And is that any way to talk to your boss? I see you woke up in fighting form today. Lose it before you step foot in my office.
I send him a gif of a cartoon cinnamon roll flashing the middle finger梩hank God there抯 a gif for everything梐nd check the second text.
Please don抰 be Jay.
Please don抰 be Jay.
Guess what?
It抯 Jay.
Dakota. Please just ten minutes of your time? If you let me apologize in person and still find me unforgivable, that抯 fair. I just can抰 walk away with silence. Don抰 you owe me that much?
I owe myself a nice harsh slap to the face for forgetting to follow through on blocking his number.
Seriously. Why would I owe him anything?
He left me at a church full of people on my wedding day.
He was cheating for God only knows how long.
Our time is up. I learned a lot from you, so thanks, I send bitterly.
Like not to trust men梠r anyone who isn抰 named Eliza, for that matter.
How many times did singer girl Sam laugh it up with me oh-so-sweetly? Usually over a bottle of cheap wine at our crappy little rented farmhouse while she was banging my fianc?behind my back.
People. They suck.
So does wasting more neurons on this brutally desperate half-wit.
Jay: Dakota, we can抰 be perfect. Them mistakes I made bust me the fuck up every day. I can抰 even sleep. Please. Please give me a shot. Even five minutes.
I gave him the only shot he deserved at a life together.
He flunked it magnificently.
Also, I don抰 have time to argue, so I shove the phone back into my pocket and pedal like hell. By the time I get to Sweeter Grind, he抯 texted five more times.
They抮e all the same trashy woe-is-me messages about how he magically realized he can抰 live without me and how he was oh-so-wrong.
Gag.
I order the boss?stuff and then move to the counter to wait on the drinks. I don抰 even know why I replied. Maybe just raw curiosity.
Did Sam break up with you?
Jay: I broke up with her but we weren抰 even really together. She wasn抰 you.
I抳e had it.
With a hurt snicker, I pull up my contacts and block his number.
揅offee for Nevermore!?A barista sets a large cup down loudly.
I grab the coffee and weighty box of Regis rolls and flounce out the door, but I can抰 get to my bike.
What now? I think with a huff.
There抯 some random guy about the same height as Jay with the same mousy-blond hair strumming what sounds like folk music on a six string. He抯 not the reason I can抰 get to my bike, though.
A barefoot woman dances around madly a couple feet away, wearing a full-blown semi-formal wedding dress. Loose ringlets cascade down her back with every turn, but she抯 between me and my bike.
Awesome.
Portland might be the weird capitol of the Pacific Northwest, but Seattle isn抰 that far behind for the silver medal.
I shouldn抰 be so pissed. At least they aren抰 hassling anyone or blocking traffic.
It isn抰 fair to hate Guitar Man for resembling Jay, either. Betrayal shouldn抰 course through my blood so deep, but it does.
I try to go around the dancer, but she smacks into me mid-twirl.
The coffee cup crunches between us.
My mouth falls open in slow motion. Then I feel it before I see it.
Scalding liquid runs down my torso, biting my skin through the fabric.
揙w!?I tumble down on the sidewalk, sandwiched between the pavement and the street dancer, who抯 somehow landed on top of me.
揗y dress梚t抯 ruined!?she shrieks, jumping to her feet like only a bride with a soiled wedding dress can.
I scrape myself off the ground and stumble to my feet, thoroughly annoyed.
揟hat抯 probably why most people don抰 dance around in their wedding dress in front of a busy shop,?I bite off.
揃ut we抮e getting married!?she says, her lips curled in agony. 揂nd now梟ow I have to do it with a coffee stain.?
Perish the thought.
I can抰 bring myself to apologize. I just glare, my already low empathy tank has no fumes to spare.
揟his is where we met,?she prattles on, oblivious to my death stare. 揙ur friend is coming to officiate. You just crashed my wedding...?
Oh, hell. For all that抯 holy, Jay abandoned me for this kind of utter bullshit. I have exactly zero patience for it.
揥elcome to the club. If it makes you feel better, someone ruined my wedding, too. But if your guy抯 still here and ready to put a ring on it, I抎 hardly call that ruined.?I抦 still holding the crushed cup and I give it another loud crunch in my palm.
Then I move to the trash can in front of Sweeter Grind and toss it.
揧ou deserved it, bitch! Karma!?she shouts after me.
I don抰 look back because I have a bigger problem now. I raise the half-attached lid on the box of Regis rolls and groan.
They抮e spattered in coffee and half their icing was ripped off in the fall. I toss them too and go back into the coffee shop.
There抯 no chance I抣l be on time today. I dare Burns to raise hell about it.
揘evermore??The guy behind the counter looks up. 揧ou抮e back and covered in coffee? Tell you what, the new drink is on the house. Nasty spill out there.?
I wave my hand. 揇on抰 worry about it. It抯 a company expense, but I need the same order again...?
揥ill do.?
This time, when I walk out of Sweeter Grind with my new goods, guitar dude and his panicked lady are standing in front of a guy lecturing them about the evils of 5G wireless signals and trying to sell them what looks like a tinfoil 'shield' stretched over cardboard.
Only in Seattle. I roll my eyes and hop on my bike.
When I get to work, Burns stands outside of his office with his arms crossed like a pissed off teacher waiting for the last straggler from recess to show up.
With a sigh I don抰 even hide, I walk up to him and shove the loot into his arms.
He snatches the cup out of my hand, sloshing me with a few beads of piping hot coffee for the second time today.
揝orry about that.?Before I can respond, though, he snaps, 揅ome on in. We need to talk.?
What the frick now?
I follow him into his office, glaring at the box of Regis rolls as they land on his desk.
He slams the door behind me and waits for me to sit, silent as the grave.
Cool. What crawled up his butt this time?
My phone goes off.
揑s that important??He falls into his office chair, pointing.
揑 wouldn抰 think so. You抮e here.?I shrug. 揑 guess it could be my mom.?
Somehow, I don抰 think I抦 that lucky. Jay probably found a dummy number by now to keep blowing up my messages.
He nods.
揗iss Poe, I抣l be blunt. You sent me the most unprofessional, inappropriate, frankly crazy fucking email I抳e ever received in my whole career.?