Page 27 of Tell Me Again

“Yeah. I mean . . . I think it might feel nice, and I’m just . . . curious. Aren’t you . . . ?”

It had felt nice. Fucking better than nice.

Dammit, I’m staring at his lips again. Shit. I tear my eyes away, but it’s too late. He saw me. And it’s like his eyes are darker and sexier and—

Shit! Angie.

I glance over at her, and she quickly lifts her book up again, but I can see her body shaking, like she’s trying to hold back laughter.

“’Kay. Uh, Thursday, then? Tentatively, I mean,” he says, standing and picking up the bag.

I nod stiffly as our eyes meet again. He looks all hopeful and shit. Like I feel. What the fuck? Maybe it’s just... I mean, maybe he just misses having me as a friend. That’s it. Right? Gotta be. Fuck.

“Uh, yeah. Thursday. I’ll call you.”

He smiles, and it fucking lights up the room. “Great! Thanks again. For the food and stuff, I mean. Uh. Yeah. I’ll, uh, see you around. Soon. I hope.”

Shit, that is fucking adorable.

He starts off toward the door and then gives me a little wave before he pushes the door open and disappears.

And Angie slams her book down on the table. “Oh. My. God. Coop!”

Oh, I’m so fucked.

***

Angie is bubbling with energy for the next half hour while she tries—and fails—to get me to talk. She asks me repeatedly who Josh is, but then she really hates my cagey “just a friend,” and she’s sure to let me know it.

After about an hour, when I’ve finally got a couple of new customers seated and Mel’s off the phone and back in the kitchen cooking and prepping for dinner, Angie waves me over again.

“One more coffee? But this is my last one, I promise!” she says, holding out her mug with a silly grin.

I top it off for her, as I’ve been doing all afternoon. Then she sort of pauses and just looks at me for a moment, her expression much too serious. When she blinks again, the seriousness is replaced by something else. Some kind of caring expression that I just don’t see too often, really.

“You know, Coop, you deserve to find some happiness. I hope that whatever’s been stopping you, it’s not—it’s not... Ack, what I’m trying to say is I don’t think there are too many people in this town who would judge you for who you love. And I hope you know I’m not gonna go spreading your secrets all over town. I hope you weren’t worried about that or anything.”

My chest feels tight, and I look down at the floor for a moment. “Yeah, Ang, I wasn’t really worried about that.” At least, I don’t think I was. Not really.

I glance back up, and she’s smiling again.

“Good, good. Because you shouldn’t be,” she says. She leans forward and rests her elbows on the table, her eyes gleaming now. “Buuuuuut you do have to tell me—are you going to call him?”

I laugh lightly and shake my head. Fuck. I don’t know. I mean, yes? Hell, yes? Shit. “Ang...”

“Just yes or no, Coop. That’s all I need,” she says, and while there’s still that kind of insatiable curiosity in her eyes, as always, there’s also that something else, again. Like she actually fucking cares.

“I dunno. I . . . probably will?”

“Yes! I knew it!” She nearly jumps up out of her seat, punching her fist in the air like she’s cheering, and I can’t help but flinch as I scan the room. Thankfully, her antics haven’t attracted any attention. But still... “Ah, sorry. I’m just happy for you, Coop.”

I sigh and sit down across from her at the booth. “Ang, look, uh...” Shit, am I about to tell her more than I should? Nope. Of course not. Fuck, I am. “He was a friend from when I lived in Garrington, before my mom got sick. There was some terrible shit that happened, and it’s not something I really want to talk about or even fuckin’ think about, alright? But it’s been ten years now, and he’s—he’s engaged, okay? To a woman. And they’re getting married next month. So don’t be getting any ideas. Um, I...”

I glance around the room again and then lower my voice as I continue. “I’m not really—I mean, I’ve never—shit, this is hard as fuck to talk about. You know what, I-I just—I should go to, you know, finish helping Mel and make sure everyone’s taken care of here, and—and, uh, yeah.”

I’m pushing myself out of the booth and standing up before she can interrogate me more. She watches me like she has something to say but she’s not quite sure whether to. Maybe. The look on her face is hard to interpret.

In any case, I’m quite done talking, and I’ve definitely shared more than I’d intended to. A hell of a lot more. I pick up the pot of coffee I’d set on the table and then tip my head toward the coffee mug she’s holding in her hand and try for some sort of a playful grin, although it probably misses the mark.

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