Page 29 of Don’t Fall for your Best Friend's Brother

Suddenly, and with no warning at all, the heaven opens, and a downpour of biblical proportions rains down on us. It’s like someone up there just emptied a bucket. A really big bucket. It’s so heavy, the raindrops are actually bouncing off the street.

“Come on,” Nick yells, trying to make himself heard over the pounding sounds reverberating off the ground and surrounding buildings. Taking my arm, he pulls me across the street toward the coffee shop. He barges through the coffee shop door, which probably would have caught the attention of the existing customers, if they were not already all gawking out of the window at the intensity of the flash downpour. Truly, five minutes ago, the sun had been shining.

“Holy cow,” Nick says, shaking off his soaking wet coat.

I would do the same, only I’m not wearing a coat, which is likely the reason he yanked me in here in the first place. The rain came down with such speed that my hair is soaked through, as are my clothes. Cathy skirts around the counter carrying a large roll of blue paper towel. Tearing great lengths off it, she hands it to me. “There you go, darling. Dry yourself off.”

“Thank you, Cathy,” I reply.

“Well, we might as well get a coffee while this blows over,” Nick says, nodding toward a booth.

What choice do I really have? We’re dry in here, and I’m certain Noah’s ark is about to sail down Main Street at any second. I’ll look like an idiot if I refuse, and an even bigger idiot if I leave.

I finally relent, and we make our way over to an empty booth.

Cathy arrives a second later. “Hot tea with milk,” she says, smiling broadly at me.

“Yes, please, Cathy. Thank you.”

“And what about you, Nick?” Cathy asks. Her smile has faded a little as she looks down at him, and I can’t help but notice it. Nick doesn’t because he’s lifted the menu off the table and is currently browsing it. I thought we were just coming in for coffee.

“I’ll have a coffee and whatever pie you have,” he says. He then looks at me. “You want some pie?”

I shake my head. “No. thanks. Tea is fine.”

“All right. Then that’s us, Cathy.”

We talk about the rain while we wait for our order, and then afterward, the conversation continues.

Nick tells me about his school life here in Sharon Springs, and how he didn’t really feel he belonged. He tells me how he didn’t have a good time at school, and how he was hurt by girls. He tells me how he left in his late teens, and that he’s now a salesman selling cars. He tells me that it was the best move he’d ever made.

About an hour passes. The rain stopped some time ago, and I say that I have to go. When we eventually say our farewells, I go one way and Nick goes the other.

It wasn’t the worst hour of my life, if I am honest, but as I’m walking back to Sylvie’s house, it does occur to me that Nick did most of the talking. Okay, yes. I know, I’m shy. But he made little effort to ask anything about me. Maybe I came across as too nervous. Which would not be a surprise because like I said, he makes me nervous. Or maybe, I’m just looking too deeply into it.

No, you’re comparing.

Yes, I am comparing. Because as I acknowledge that thought, I realize that where Nick had done nothing but talk about himself, Finn, on the other hand, had hardly talked about himself at all, and had, in fact, shown far more interest in me and my life. That could well be to do with the fact that he’s going through his own stuff right now.

My thoughts are interrupted by the ringing of my phone. It’s my sister, Kerry, and I’m delighted to speak to her.

“Hey,” I say, once I answer the phone.

“Hello, chick. Well, how is everything? I thought I’d give you a call in between shifts. Things have been a bit mad here.”

My older sister is a nurse in a large hospital in London, and is forever working longer hours than she should. But she’s also a wonderful nurse, and loves helping people.

“It’s so good to hear from you,” I say. “How’s everything back home?”

“Oh, no. You first. Tell me everything. How’s the job? Where are you living? Have you met any cute guys yet?”

I laugh at her eager excitement.

“Firstly, I’ve only been here a few weeks, and I haven’t started the job yet. I’m still staying with Sylvie. As for men, I live in a town where the average age is forty. Which wouldn’t be so drastic if the population wasn’t five hundred people.”

“What?” she nearly screams down the phone.

I’m laughing at her disbelief. “It’s true. So, how’s Ben?”

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