Page 6 of Tell Me It’s Right

Curtains are now at the top of the to-do list.

Footsteps sound above my head, so apparently I’m not the only one awake. Probably Keava. She teaches at the middle school, and I’m pretty sure they start around 7:00 AM.

It takes me a minute to wrestle myself out of the plastic burrito, and I stumble bleary-eyed toward the shower, side-stepping boxes as I go. The water comes out cold no matter which way I turn the knob, and it takes everything in me not to shriek as I hunch my shoulders and slip in.

On the bright side, I’m definitely awake now.

I don’t think it’s quite warm enough to break out the sundresses, but I slip one on anyway, figuring the long-sleeve shirt I layer underneath will cancel it out. After applying the few makeup products I manage to find, I head upstairs.

“Oh! Early riser!” Keava smiles at me from the kitchen as she pours coffee into a to-go mug.

I don’t correct her. I just moved in. Immediately complaining isn’t going to start us off on the right foot.

She steps around the counter and opens the fridge, her floor-length floral dress swishing around her as she moves. “You want some coffee?”

“Oh, uh, I’m actually more of a cold brew kind of girl. I saw a coffee shop around the corner on our way in. Do you think they’re open yet?”

For some reason, my cheeks burn as Keava closes the fridge and looks at me. She probably thinks I’m freeloading and being stupid blowing my money on overpriced coffee. My meager savings won’t last me long, but hopefully I’ll manage to find a job before I run out completely. And if there’s one thing I’m simply not willing to give up, it’s working in coffee shops.

“Oh, Milano’s?” She checks her watch. “They should be open by six. Want me to drop you off on my way to school?”

“That’s okay. I figured I’d walk. Get some exercise.”

“Great idea! It’s super nice out this morning.” She slips a tote bag off one of the kitchen chairs and heads for the door. “Hey, I even think they’re hiring.” She winks at me over her shoulder then slips into the garage.

My face burns again. She probably didn’t mean anything by it.

I shove my laptop into my bag. If they have some nice seating, I can knock out a few more job applications this morning. Hopefully for something at least slightly related to design and not as a barista. Though I guess that wouldn’t be the worst fallback plan.

Maybe I’d get some free coffee.

Sadly, that’s the most exciting possibility I’ve heard all week.

Unsurprisingly, the coffee shop is quiet as I step inside two minutes after opening. A girl with long brown hair and a red apron smiles at me from behind the counter as the bell above the door announces my arrival.

“Welcome in! What can I get you?”

I eye the menu on the chalkboard behind her head. The drinks are spelled out in bright colors and cursive letters, doodles of carry-out cups and mugs lining the sides.

“A large cold brew with coconut milk and hazelnut syrup.”

The girl smiles again as she types away on her register and takes my crumpled up ten-dollar bill. After dumping the change in her tip jar—probably another financially irresponsible move—I scout out a place to sit.

The shop is cozy and warm with plants and string lights hanging overhead. There’s a fireplace in the corner with some leather chairs, but I head for the tables on the opposite wall after the barista hands over my cup.

I duck under the table to search for an outlet as the bell above the door rings.

The barista laughs, and I watch beneath the table as a skateboard glides into the shop, my view cut off below the newcomer’s knees. All I can see are black Vans, tan skin, and long legs utterly covered in tattoos.

“You’re late,” says the barista.

He stops a foot from the door and kicks up the board. “Didn’t realize you were keeping track.”

That voice.

“Well, you’re usually the first one in here.”

Oh, God. My head hits the bottom of the table with an audible thunk. Wincing, I pop back out as the two of them look over at me.

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