by K. Ryan
“I actually have the rest of this week off,” I swallowed back as much awkwardness as I could manage and hoped I sounded at least a little smooth, but not like a creepy, stalkery psycho who lured little kids into their vans with promises of puppies and candy. “So, if you’ve got any free time or anything, we could…”
Definitely not smooth. Not even close.
That hesitancy she’d had when she first popped her head around the wall crept back into her eyes and once again, I’d overstepped. Too forward. Too much. Too soon.
“Maybe I’ll have to get back to you,” she murmured, some of that quiet confidence quickly fading. “I, um, have to work tomorrow and then I have to get Oliver to the vet on Friday.”
Still, despite my better judgment, I pushed just a little further. “That still leaves us Saturday and Sunday, right?”
My persistence might’ve paid off because her lips curled up into that smile again that sent something warm rushing down to my stomach.
“Right.”
“So where do you work?”
Another harmless, normal question and I crossed my fingers that this question wouldn’t have the same reaction as the last personal question I’d asked her.
“The Corner Café,” she told me easily and I let the breath I’d been very aware I was holding. “Have you ever been there?”
“Nope, but I’ve heard of it. That place is supposed to have the best homemade pie in the city, right?”
“Oh yeah,” she grinned. “The best...”
She trailed off like she’d been about to say something else, but clammed up again. Then she surprised me by switching gears completely. “I actually write a blog, too.”
My lips pulled apart in awe, with more than a little curiosity thrown in there. “Really? What do you write about?”
She cringed and sank down into her chair as best as she could, considering the cat in her lap. “It’s kinda stupid.”
“Come on. Tell me.”
“It’s a beauty blog,” she must’ve seen the flash of confusion on my face because she jumped to explain. “I write about trends, tips, products to use, things I’ve used and liked or didn’t like. It’s, um, called Northern Chic. I’ve been doing it since I was in high school so…”
“Cool,” I just shrugged. The pink coloring her cheeks was cute, but wasn’t necessary. There was no point in being embarrassed over something you enjoyed. “So how do you get all the stuff then? Do you have to buy it yourself?”
“Sometimes,” she shrugged. “But there are some companies who send me products. I get a kickback if readers turn around and click on the links I put in some of my posts.”
My eyebrows lifted in impressed surprise. “You make money, too?”
“Sure,” she shrugged again like it was no big deal. “There are ways you can monetize your blog with ads and kickbacks. It’s not enough to make a living, but it helps.”
“And you like it.”
Her smile was more careful this time, but it was still there and that was all that mattered. “Yeah, I do.”
“Good.”
With that, I could tell a change of pace was in order and I picked up my guitar again, pointing at the cat. “This one’s for you, buddy.”
The chords buzzed out from the strings, my shoulders swaying a little bit with the beat, and searching for just a little bit of courage to sing along with the music so she could figure the song out. Finally, my humming turned into quiet, slightly off-key rasps.
“Whoo whoo whoo whoo whoo,” I sang, trying to remember the words as I went along.
She was already laughing, but I decided to lay it on thicker just because.
“Why should I worry? Why should I care...I’ve got street saviore faire.”
“Oh, I haven’t heard that song in forever!” she laughed and reached down to hold the cat tighter to her. “I need to watch that movie now. You know, I’m pretty sure Oliver and Company was the first movie I ever saw in the theatre.”
“Of course,” I shook my head and kept right on strumming. “It was fate then. Obviously.”
“Obviously.”
For the next few hours, this was my night: a beautiful, crisp September night, a bottle of beer, my guitar, music, a stray cat, and my captivating neighbor. We traded songs, starting with the classics like The Beatles and The Doors before moving to music that was more contemporary like Green Day and Foo Fighters—I still couldn’t believe she didn’t know “The Pretender”. Every once and awhile, she threw in something off the wall, like Michael Jackson or Miranda Lambert, of all choices, and while I didn’t always get all the chords in the right progression, I was able to keep up long enough for her to either laugh or listen with admiration.
That was good enough for me.
So, at a certain point, long after the sun faded into the tree line and long after the four beers I’d run back to my apartment for had emptied, it was time to call it a night. I didn’t really want it to end and I didn’t really want to head back to my apartment alone when I knew she was right across the hall, also alone, minus the cat. But, as I swept up some of the empties underneath my arm and reached for my guitar, she called out to me one last time from behind her screen door.
“Hey, if you don’t have anything going on tomorrow, seeing as you have the day off and all, you could stop by the café for lunch or something.”
Because I was tossed in the scatter of expectations, anxiety, and trying not to look like an idiot, I stood there, gaping openly back at Emma like the asshole I was trying to avoid being.
“I could save a piece of pie for you. On the house,” she offered shyly as her fingers picked at the screen in front of her.
Finally, I felt myself coming back to life again and this time, the smile I shot her was more confident and, hopefully, more charming than anything I’d sent her way before. “You guys have banana cream? That’s my favorite.”
“Absolutely we do,” she bit down on her bottom lip to hide her smile.
“You sold me, Em.”
Something flashed in her eyes and it probably had everything to do with me calling her Em. But at this point, even though I could count on one hand the number of times we’d interacted, I felt like I’d known her for longer. Like, somehow, we were old friends who’d reconnected and picked up right where we left off. I couldn’t apologize for something like that even if it meant that I’d overstepped again.
“Okay,” she murmured and waved to me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Yeah. Tomorrow was looking pretty good.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“More coffee, Ed?” I asked, lifting the coffee pot up to him.
The café’s gruffest, yet most loyal regular customer, just grunted in response and held up his empty coffee mug. Biting my bottom lip to keep the surly old man from seeing my knowing grin, I quickly obliged him by filling the mug to the brim.
“Food should be out shortly.”
I knew better than to expect actual words in response, but whether it was out of stubborn relentlessness to break down his hard exterior or just plain old fashioned manners, I waited a few beats at the edge of the table before finally giving up, throwing Ed a quick smile, and heading back by my station to get my side work finished. I still had three hours left of my lunch shift and since Ed was currently the only customer sitting in my section, if business didn’t pick up, I’d probably find myself cut for the day soon anyway.
With that last thought propelling me forward, I got down to the business of rolling forks and knives into paper napkins. It wasn’t the most stimulating work by any means, but if anything, it was better than nothing to pass the time. Casting a quick glance into the kitchen’s window to check on Ed’s food, my eyes fell back down to the work at hand as Mara flitted past me with a tray hitched on top of her shoulder.
“Everything alright, Emma?” Mara asked me from over her shoulder, pausing just long enough to get an answer.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “You’re just quieter than usual. And normally, you’re pretty quiet anyway, you know?”
I guess I hadn’t realized it was that obvious.
“I’m fine,” I told her and hoped that would appease her for the time being.
When she just shrugged again and headed towards her table, I blew out a deep breath, grateful I had something to distract myself. The problem was, with only one customer and mindless side work in front of me, my mind had no problem wandering to how I’d spent the previous night. And the night before that.
My mind flashed to the way I’d easily fallen into something that ran just a little bit deeper than mere conversation with my neighbor. The way he’d smiled at me like I was the most interesting girl he’d met in a long time, the way he’d hung on every word, the way he’d carefully led the conversation away from topics that made me uncomfortable just so he could stay on my patio a little bit longer...it was all hard to forget and it was seriously clouding my judgment.
I knew better than to let myself get too close, to let him in, to tell him anything slightly personal. There was only one way that could end and we were neighbors for God’s sakes. The worst idea ever in the history of terrible ideas was to get even remotely involved with your neighbor.
So, I tried to tell myself that it was just because the situation was convenient and easy. All either of us had to do was walk five feet across the hall or across the grass for easy access to companionship. That was all it was. Loneliness. A cliché need for connection. The irony, of course, was that I’d run away to the city to escape those connections, to become anonymous, to blend in with the crowd, but I hadn’t been able to escape a stray cat or my next-door neighbor.
Because, let’s face it, I never would’ve been sitting out on my patio that night if it wasn’t for the cat.
So, really, this was all Oliver’s fault.
Considering that I’d completely lost my mind by even suggesting he come into the café today...careless with no thought to consequence, pulled in once again by another pair of light eyes, the last thing I needed was to invite Finn into my life right now. This flirtation, this interest, this attraction, whatever this was, it wasn’t good for me.
It was too bad, at least I thought it was, that my gut didn’t really agree with my brain.
So maybe it was serendipitous or just sheer bad luck that the moment I padded back into the dining room with Ed’s food was the same moment the door swung open so Finn could come shuffling through. Everything seemed to freeze. I stopped short, mid-stride with the plate still secured in my hand, and gaped openly, my eyes wide and disbelieving.
Despite the fact that I’d literally just seen him the night before, I was so inexplicably happy to see him again it had to have been written all over my face. Maybe it was just because I hadn’t really expected him to take me up on my offer. Maybe it was simply because he was the mirror image of the way I felt. So world-weary. So exhausted. Lost, even. And despite all that, just as happy to see me as I was to see him.
There was nothing I could do but smile as I moved towards him. His eyes glowed as I approached and he met me halfway.
“Hey, Emma,” he greeted me softly and shoved his hands into his front pockets as he lingered around the doorway.
“Hi, Finn,” I exhaled.
We stood there like that for a few long moments, staring back at each other with crazy-stupid grins on our faces, until I remembered the food in my hand and flushed red as I waved my free hand to an open booth on the other side of where Ed sat.
“I just have to…” I gestured with my head to the food in my hand. “Um...have a seat. I’ll be right back, okay?”
The lopsided grin he shot me just about sent the plate tumbling out of my hands and I hastily moved back to Ed’s booth in order to preclude any other embarrassing reactions. Ignoring Ed’s stink-eye and gruff grunt when I practically threw the plate at him, I couldn’t get back to Finn’s booth fast enough. My feet slowed just enough to keep me from looking ridiculously over-eager as I re-approached the booth, that happy, easy smile creeping back across my lips.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I blurted out the second my feet stopped moving. “I mean...uh…” I shook my head, already feeling a traitorous rush of heat flooding my cheeks, “I’m glad you decided to stop in for lunch.”
Okay, so that wasn’t much different than what I’d said before, but it was still true. And now that his grin seemed to reach all the way up to the excited glimmer in his light eyes, I didn’t regret it for a second.
Seeing him shuffle through the door was like something out of a surreal dream. What happened from here on out wasn’t even on my radar, at least not yet, because all I could focus on was that the only reason he was sitting in a booth in this café right now was because of me.
And the warm feeling that realization created spilled right over all my hesitations and all my reservations, saturating everything my mind screamed at me.
“I’m glad I decided to stop in, too," Finn was saying now, his eyes trailing up and down like I was a real sight for sore eyes.
The heady combination of warmth, excitement, and that glint of something else radiating from his eyes needed to be shelved for later. I could sort through it then, but for now, staying calm and collected in his presence was going to prove difficult enough.
“So...um…”
He grinned at my hesitation and rested an elbow good-naturedly on the table. “Well, seeing as how this is my first full day off in way too long, what I really want right now is a nice, fat slice of that banana cream pie. You think you could make that happen for me, Em?”
“So you’re skipping the meal altogether and going straight for the pie?” I hitched a hand on my hip and now, there was really no point in trying to mask my smile.
“Yep,” Finn grinned back brightly. “Pretty much.”
“Let me go grab a nice big one for you, okay?”
The wink he shot me as I backpedalled towards the kitchen managed to hit me all the way down to the pit of my stomach, taking over every one of my senses and filling me near to the brim with feelings I’d long-believed would forever lay dormant. It didn’t help that I just couldn’t reconcile what he was even doing here in the first place. Sure, he might not have considered it if I hadn’t thrown the invite his way, but that didn’t explain why he was actually here.
I’d long been resigned to my role as an observer in life. Someone who was inconsequential and immediately forgotten once you passed by. Frankly, up until about a year ago, it was a role I’d played so often it’d become second nature. So the fact that he was here now, that he was obviously here to see me, didn’t quite gel with all the other moving parts that made up the mess that was my life.
He was just being nice. Maybe that was it. Or maybe he legitimately just had nothing better to do with his day off and wanted a piece of pie. Even worse, it was just as likely that he felt sorry for me, that he saw how pathetic I was to the point that my only real friend was a stray cat. Maybe it was just for the best that I start mentally preparing myself for that now.
It was a good thing, too, because Mara had already passed right by the booth and her eyes flew directly to me. So, I made sure to keep that slightly faux-smile plastered on my face as I re-approached Finn’s booth just for good measure. If anything, I figured my best course of action right now was just to act like everything was fine and that I wasn’t keeping a freakout at bay. Yeah, I mused ruefully, that’s gonna be super easy to hide.
When I set the plate down in front of my neighbor, I could only hope he was none the wiser to my current frazzled state. Thankfully, the moment his pie appeared, all his attention focused squarely on the creamy folds of banana goodness in front of him and he licked his lips in anticipation.
“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. “I think you might need to grab a wheelchair to haul me out of here, Em, because I think I need at least two more pieces of this before I get out of your hair today
.”
“Wow,” I shook my head with an amused smile on my lips. “Men and their pie.”
Finn barely wasted a moment before digging his fork into a corner and shoveling as much as his fork could carry into his waiting mouth. Pausing only to point his fork at me, he somehow managed to garble through a full mouth: “Hey, I will have you know that I’m completely committed to pie. The love and understanding between us is unrivaled, Emma. Unrivaled.”
With that, he shot me yet another wink—this time with a glint of mischief—and scooped another whopping portion into his mouth. There wasn’t much I could do other than shake my head to laugh off the tongue-in-cheek insinuation.
Something had changed since the last time I saw him...while the shuffling, hand-in-his-pockets, shy nature was still there underneath the surface, he’d brought an air of confidence with him today, too. The flirtation seemed to roll right off him now like second nature, where last night, he’d seemed to fumble a little for the right words. There was no shortage of charm now and whether I liked it or not, he was most definitely hitting his target.
“Well, I’m pretty sure I only promised you one piece on the house. You want any more, you’re on your own, my friend.”
His low chuckle followed me back to Ed’s booth, which incidentally, was right next to Finn’s.
“How is everything, Ed?”
If I was friendly and paid him a little extra attention, a decent tip from Ed might not be totally lost. He grunted, shoved some fries in his mouth, and barely cast me a glance. Alright then. Ed used to leave halfway decent tips for me as a café regular...I guess the way I’d tossed his food down on his table and hightailed it back to Finn hadn’t gone over so well.
I blew out a deep breath. “Can I get you anything? Another refill?”
Ed just grunted one last time, gesturing with his head towards his empty coffee mug in a not-so-articulate way of affirming what I already knew. I dared a glance to my left only to find Finn observing the exchange from his respective booth with his lips pulled apart in a grimace.
“He’s friendly,” Finn mouthed to me.