by Ellis, Aven
Did Harrison take his shirt off?
I burst out laughing and text back:
Yes.
And Nate and I are cool now. Just friends. NO BODY CHECKING ARE YOU DRUNK?
Harrison kept his shirt on the entire time, sorry.
Then my Connectivity Private Message alert beeps with a note from Amanda:
I found Pinkie Pie. So what’s the deal with Nate? Be honest. I know when you’re lying, little sister.
Next I notice my status flash on my business Connectivity page, which I always set up to prompt me to do a business-related status for the weekend. Hmmm. I should talk about those breakfast truffles and put a recipe up on my blog.
Okay, I should get that done so people will see it Saturday morning, which is a big time for people to surf Connectivity. But first I need to answer Amanda’s question because she will keep messaging me until I do.
Okay, I’ll be honest. Nate is Freaking. Smokin. Hot. And if you could see his badass tattoo sleeve, muscled arms, ripped core, facial stubble and long eyelashes you’d be lusting after him just like I am.
Then I hit ‘Connect Update’ and go back to texting Lexi, who has sent me a million questions about Nate and what’s going on. But while I’m texting, my Connectivity alert goes off again, showing a comment to my update. Wait . . . What? How can someone comment on my conversation with Amanda on my Confection Consultations page?
I click it open and see I didn’t private message Amanda, but rather talked about Nate in my fucking status box for Confection Consultations for the entire world to read! With complete panic, I see there’s a comment with a privacy marker next to it, meaning only I can read it, but it’s from Nate:
Flattering status. Thank you.
Oh my God! I gasp. I know Nate knows exactly how turned on I am by him and his gorgeous body. My stomach rolls over with nausea and I frantically hit the delete button, which isn’t working. Why isn’t it working? Damn it! Shit! I continue to click delete in panic and finally a prompt comes up asking if I’m sure I want to eliminate my Connect Status.
“Yes, I’m sure!” I scream at the iPad. “Go away!”
I declare I want my status deleted, and I wait anxiously for it to disappear.
Which it does.
But I can never, ever, delete those words out of Nate’s head.
Nate knows I’m interested.
After I just told him I want to be friends.
And I’m sure he’s deleting my Connectivity relationship with him on his page right now as a result.
I want to cry. I’m mortified. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my entire life. And just when I could have had something with Nate, even if it were simply a friendship, I blew it up with my inability to type in the right box.
Or keep my lust to myself.
I shut off my phone and iPad. I can’t bear to deal with the fallout of my mistake.
I curl up on my sofa. Well, at least I won’t have to face Nate again, I think miserably. I can have lunches and girl time with Kylie, and come up with excuses if I’m invited back to the house for dinner. So that will solve everything.
I can avoid Nate.
I’ll never have to see him again.
And he wasn’t interested anyway.
So no harm.
No foul.
No more Nate.
Which hurts my heart in a way it shouldn’t.
But it does.
And somehow I’ll have to come to terms with it.
“I can’t watch you eat anymore chocolate,” Lexi declares. “Get up and get dressed. We’re going out this afternoon.”
“It’s too hot,” I say, unwrapping another Bonieri Cremini square. I’m slumped on the couch, where I’ve been all morning. And now afternoon, as Lexi has pointed out. But I’ve put on the Cooking Channel and have sat in a complete depression, watching food shows and eating chocolate and slurping coffee to celebrate me being the biggest idiot on the face of the earth.
And I’ve purposely shut off my phone and put my iPad away, as I can’t handle seeing if Nate said anything else about that horrific message he saw last night.
“It’s always hot,” Lexi says firmly, interrupting my thoughts. “Hello, you live in Dallas. It’s late August. Nothing you haven’t lived through for your entire life. So that’s not an excuse.”
“I’m not going,” I say. “I don’t want to.”
Lexi shrugs. “Well, that’s too bad because I’ve already talked to Amanda, and since Ryan is out of town she’s craving adult interaction. So she’s coming down with the kids in a half hour to pick us up.”
I shoot her a look as I hold the chocolate in my hand. “Why? What is she coming down here for?”
Amanda lives in Frisco with her college sweetheart husband, Ryan. Ryan is a producer for Total Access Total Sports, and he travels a lot for his work. But regardless, she’s up in the suburbs, and this is out of her way to come down to the city simply to make me get off the couch.
“We’re all going out for coffee,” Lexi declares. “We love you, and as people who love you, we aren’t going to let you overdose on Italian chocolates because you told Nate Johansson he has a hot body you could practically lick last night.”
My entire face burns in humiliation. I sit straight up and drop the chocolate on the end table next to me. “I didn’t say that!”
Lexi grins. “But you wanted to.”
“Argh! Shut up,” I cry, my face now, without a doubt, blood red.
“I won’t stop unless you get ready. Or maybe I’ll message Nate and say you forgot to add that. ‘Nate, I could lick you like melted chocolate off a spoon . . .’”
I leap off the couch. “Don’t even.”
“Have you even gone online since? To see if Nate said anything else?”
“No. I’m sure he’s unconnected me from his account,” I say miserably.
“You told a guy he was hot,” Lexi says. “Big deal. Nate said he was flattered, didn’t he?”
“Okay, if I get ready and promise to go, will you quit talking about this?” I beg.
Lexi laughs. “Okay. For now.”
“You’re so not my best friend,” I say over my shoulder as I head into my room.
“Oh I so am,” Lexi answers in a singsong voice.
Despite my depressed and mortified state, I manage a smile. Lexi has always been my closest friend, my rock, my support system. And even though I don’t want to go out, I know she’s right. I can’t sit on the couch and eat chocolates for the rest of the weekend, no matter how tempting that is.
I open my closet door. Today it’s 101F. I rifle through my clothing and decide a maxi skirt and a tank top are in order. I select a long white maxi skirt with a coral floral print on it and a white ribbed tank top. I change into them and put on a large statement necklace. Next I slip into my sandals and slide a stack of brass bangles on my left wrist.
Then I grab my straw summer tote and dump my wallet, compact, and lipstick into it. I glance at my phone, which is shut off and on my nightstand.
Okay, no sense ruining my accomplishment of getting off the couch by checking to see if Nate has diconnected me from his Connectivity page. That can wait.
Until at least Monday.
I step into my bathroom and grab my texturizing sea-salt spray to add volume to my blond waves. I spray and scrunch, and achieve a decent result. Then I sweep on some tinted moisturizer, a little bronzer, and a soft brownish-pink lipstick. There. This is more than good enough for coffee.
Amanda appears right on time, calling Lexi since my phone is off, and we head downstairs and pile into her SUV.
“I’ll take the backseat,” Lexi says, opening the door. “Hi, Claire. Hi, Bella,” she adds, smiling at eight-month-old Bella i
n her car seat.
“Yay!” Claire yells excitedly from her booster seat. “I’m going to tell you all about Rainbow Dash, Auntie Lexi. Hi, Auntie Kenley.”
“Hello, Claire,” I say, grinning at her.
And while Lexi knows her Dallas Demons by heart, she doesn’t know anything about My Little Pony. And she’s about to be schooled by one passionate little four-year-old.
“Awesome,” Lexi says, grinning at Claire.
I settle into the front passenger seat and put my straw tote on the floorboard. I reach around and buckle my seatbelt.
“Why won’t you answer your phone or Connectivity messages? I had to call Lexi to make sure you were alive this morning,” Amanda says, easing onto the street.
I groan and put my oversized sunglasses on. “I don’t want to even think about social media after last night, let alone read it.”
“You’re overreacting,” Amanda declares, tucking a lock of her blond hair behind her ear.
“What? How can you say that?” I demand.
“Like women haven’t told Nate Johansson he’s hot before? Please.”
“I agree,” Lexi pipes up over Claire’s nonstop pony chatter.
“Not like that,” I say, inwardly cringing.
“I bet he’s had women mail him panties,” Amanda says as she makes a right turn.
“What?” I ask.
“Oh, he’s totally had that,” Lexi says. “Puck Sluts do that.”
“Puck Sluts,” Claire repeats.
“No, no, Auntie Lexi said a bad word,” Lexi says quickly. “Don’t say it, Claire. Auntie Lexi was wrong.”
“Puck Sluts, Puck Sluts.” Claire giggles.
“Don’t worry about it, Lexi. She’ll say much worse before kindergarten, I’m sure,” Amanda says easily.
I smile. My sister is so cool. And I love her so much for doing this for me today, despite my protests.
Amanda makes another turn, and now I’m confused.
“Where are we going?” I ask. “Starbucks is right around the corner.”
“We’re trying a new place,” Lexi says. “The Roast and Grind. It’s independent. And I know you prefer to support independent businesses.”
I nod. That’s true. And who knows, maybe I can see if there’s a business opportunity to talk about chocolate needs while I’m there.
The Roast and Grind comes into view, but I notice the coffee shop has a lot of cars in the drive-through and tons of signs and people out front. I peer at the signs as Amanda gets in the long line for the drive-through.
Oh my God.
As soon as I see one of the signs, my stomach drops out. My throat goes dry. Complete panic sets in. I read the sign over and over to make sure I’m not going crazy:
The Roast and Grind
Invites you to
Win a DATE WITH NATE!
And:
Dallas Demon Nate Johansson
Serves up coffee
And a chance for a DATE WITH NATE
For charity today
And Nate’s smiling face is on every poster in the parking lot.
“What is this?” I shriek. “You two . . . you knew Nate was here!”
“What? We’re getting coffee,” Amanda says matter-of-factly. “Nate just happens to be here, that’s all.”
“Luckily for you I subscribe to Dallas Demons Connectivity updates,” Lexi says. “I got this one when I was out last night. So it’s a good opportunity to prove to you he doesn’t care about that stupid message.”
“Amen,” Amanda adds, moving up in the line.
“No, no, no, I won’t do this!” I snap, getting angry. “I can’t face him. I can’t. I don’t ever want to see him again. And now he’ll think I’m stalking him.”
“Melodramatic much?” Amanda says, inching closer in the line.
“Don’t you think if he wanted me to be here he would have mentioned this last night?” I argue.
“Um, yes, Nate wants to be your friend, and I think possibly more, but he sure as hell wouldn’t invite you to come to a fan event with hundreds of people as a date,” Lexi counters.
Panic grips me. “I’ll get out of this car. I swear I’m going to open this door and get out.”
“No, you won’t,” Amanda says easily. “Because getting out in a drive-through lane is incredibly dangerous and sets a very bad example for Claire.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I anxiously wind my hair around my fingers as Amanda moves up around the bend.
There’s no way out of this.
Thanks to my so-called best friend and so-called loving sister, I’m going to be face-to-face with Nate in a matter of minutes.
And I have no clue how to handle it.
Chapter 7
Caffè Medici: My favorite coffee drink that has chocolate syrup and orange peel in it — Kenley
I’m having a panic attack.
This is a nightmare, one that has been thrown in my lap compliments of my best friend and sister. My chest is growing tighter with each inch forward Amanda moves her Volkswagen Tiguan in The Roast and Grind drive-through lane.
“Isn’t this exciting?” Amanda says cheerfully. “I can’t wait to tell Ryan we met a Dallas Demon today.”
“No, it’s horrific,” I say, turning my head so I’m not even facing the direction of the drive-through window.
“I vote that this is epic,” Lexi pipes up from the backseat. “We’re going to get coffee served to us by Nate Johansson. And we get to see true love reunited over iced mochas.”
“Would you stop? We’re not in love. I don’t even know him.”
“With a body like that, what do you need to know?” Amanda quips.
Bella squeals loudly in the back seat as if agreeing with that one hundred percent.
“No, no, you’re right, Kenley. You’re in lust,” Lexi corrects.
Then she and Amanda begin giggling like drunken sorority girls.
“Lust,” Claire yells joyfully from the backseat.
“No, Claire, don’t repeat Auntie Lexi. She’s having a bad time saying good words today.”
I feel my face burn in humiliation. “Well, that’s all one-sided, and now that Nate knows what I think, the friendship is done. Oh, and he’ll probably call the Dallas police and file a restraining order against me once he sees me in this car.”
Amanda pulls up to the menu board. “Hold on, time to place our orders for Nate.”
Oh, I want to puke. I’m so nervous my hands are clammy. I turn and glance in the backseat. Maybe Bella has a blanket I can hide under. Maybe there’s hope—
Amanda lowers the window.
“Hello, welcome to The Roast and Grind, what can I get for you today?” a teenage girl’s voice asks.
If she says Nate Johansson for my sister I’ll kill her.
“Hello, I’d like one large iced hazelnut coffee, and one small chocolate milk. Lexi?” Amanda says, turning around to take Lexi’s order.
“Large iced mocha,” Lexi says.
“Kenley?” Amanda says loudly, smiling sweetly at me.
I grit my teeth and lean across her to place my order. “One large Caffè Medici,” I shout in the direction of the microphone, “with dark chocolate syrup, please.”
“Okay one large Caffè Medici with dark chocolate sy— Oh, wait . . . hang on,” the girl abruptly says.
There’s a moment of silence, and then a different voice comes on.
“Do you want extra whipped cream on that, Kenley?” Nate asks. “Or some high-end cocoa powder sprinkled on top? Chocolate shavings? Perhaps curry chocolate flavored ones?”
I gasp in shock. GAH! Why did he take over the order-taking? Noooo!
“Um
. . . yes,” I manage weakly. “Yes to all.”
“I’ll see you at the window.” Then the speaker clicks off.
As soon as Amanda raises the window up, there is a collective scream in the car.
“He wanted to talk to you!” Lexi yells excitedly.
“Nate heard your name and took over the order,” Amanda squeals.
They are both babbling at the speed of light about the awesomeness of this sign, but I still want to find a way to crawl under the floor mat and hide. So what? He talked to me for a coffee order.
Nate probably wanted to confirm it was me, the crazy lustful stalker chocolate chick, so he could have security by his side when we reach the window.
Fear shoots through me. Okay, I will move out of state by tomorrow if Nate has a Dallas police officer standing next to him when we drive up.
We move up another car length. And now we can see Nate clearly. He’s holding up a coffee, posing for a picture with it, and then hands it to the driver of the car.
Nate’s wearing his silver and black Dallas Demons jersey, and I can see his tattoo sleeve as he leans forward and passes some iced drink to the driver. I have a complete profile view of his dark-brown hair, the stubble on his jawline, the olive color of his skin.
“Oh wow,” Amanda whispers, lowering her sunglasses to study Nate. “He’s gorgeous.”
“Isn’t he?” Lexi says. “He’s gorgeous on TV, but Nate’s even sexier in person.”
“Stop drooling over him,” I plead. “Act normal when we get to the window, please. Please. If you love me at all, we’ll act like this is a happy coincidence.”
That’s today’s lie I’m telling myself.
And this is what I could say to him: “Hey, Nate, imagine seeing you here. What a happy coincidence this is. Oh, yeah, and that status I posted about your smokin’ hotness? I’m obviously hormonally and social media challenged, and I’ll fall off the face of your universe once I pay for this coffee. Thanks!”