Page 24 of Unlikely You

Thought you’d need a little something. I read your email. I’m not one for apologizing (usually), which just proves you’re a far nicer person than I am. I don’t really have any advice, but I guess the person has kind of told you without telling you that they want space. Give it to them. And then maybe they’ll come around. Maybe. Or they won’t. Either way, you’ve apologized and tried to make it right and the ball is in their court now. I know you like to try and fix everything, but you can’t. You’re one person, Mel. You can’t fix the world, no matter how much you want to.

I’d written far too much, but I sent the message before I could second guess myself. She’d rambled and thought that was embarrassing so it was only fair that I did the same. Besides, the things I told Melliferal didn’t feel so embarrassing. That was the beauty of an online friendship. She was my friend, but I didn’t know what her face looked like when she was upset with me or disappointed or any other negative thing. I didn’t have to listen to the tone of her voice and figure out if she was pissed at me. It was all of the positives without any of the uncomfortable negatives. The perfect kind of friendship, in my opinion. I had absolutely no desire to change anything about it. Years from now I hoped that Melliferal and I would still be sending messages back and forth. We’d have a million inside jokes and silly phrases and stories to share. She’d always be there. My friend until the end.

Over the nextfew days I lost myself in packaging up online orders, replenishing the stock at the local stores, searching for new fabrics both online and in person, playing with Arson, and doing my best not to think about Honey Holloway.

I kept checking my email to see if my order had shipped, but I hadn’t gotten a confirmation yet. That didn’t surprise me. I was betting that they didn’t do shipping very often. It was rough being a small business, which I knew all too well. At least she had help. If I had an assistant for even a few hours a week, I’d get so much more done. Once I hit certain revenue targets, my plans were to hire someone to come and handle shipping for me one day a week. It would free up so much time and energy and I’d love to hire someone young who was looking for some extra cash. A college student, maybe. But I had certain numbers to hit this quarter and next to have the money in my budget for that. I had to be so, so careful with every single penny. Every cent was precious and needed to be accounted for. Mistakes couldn’t happen.

I brooded about my finances instead of thinking about Honey and how she’d kissed my finger. The scene kept replaying in my mind on a loop. As if it was a video that was stuck on Repeat. I couldn’t get over how casually she’d done it. From never touching me at all to kissing my injured finger.

Logically I knew I was blowing it up in my mind to be something bigger than what it was, but I couldn’t help myself. The majority of my days were spent alone, so I had a tendency to ruminate on things a little too much. To break myself out of it, I did my best to take breaks and force myself to interact with other humans. I walked to get coffee, chatted with Holiday and Larison at Between the Sheets, and hit the library. I also visited the farmers’ market and made a summer vegetable lasagna and did everything to stop thinking about Honey.

None of it was working and by the time Thursday rolled around, I was dreading seeing her. She’d probably gotten over it and maybe didn’t even remember what had happened last week, but it sat in the back of my mind and haunted me, like an annoying ghost.

I arrived earlier than I ever had, which did mean I had time to get a bagel sandwich from one of the vendors. I sat in the chair behind my table and devoured an everything bagel with roasted garlic and chive cream cheese that made my eyes roll back in my head. If I had to get here early, at least I had this.

I finished the latte I’d brought with me and started setting up my table. Did it need something? Should I move the bookmarks? Every week I considered changing something. Editing my table until anyone walking by had to investigate.

“I think this is yours,” a voice said, and I’d been so focused on my table that I hadn’t heard anyone approach me.

I jumped and turned to find Honey standing there holding a padded envelope out to me.

“What?” I said, momentarily stunned that she was speaking to me. Her cheeks were just the lightest shade of pink, which made her so pretty I wanted to scream.

“Your order. Did you think I wasn’t going to notice?” She gently shook the envelope at me. “You just always have to have the last word, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I said immediately and then she smirked. She freaking smirked at me.

“I’m going to pay you back one way or another. You think you’ve won, but you haven’t.”

The woman who’d kissed my finger and ran away was gone. In her place was this brazen beauty who was making it hard to draw a complete breath or form a coherent thought.

“I’m going to pay you back for that drink, whether you want me to or not.”

She placed the package on my table, being careful not to disturb anything, and went to go harangue her siblings for not doing what she asked them to do.

What the hell?

Making sure she was busy before I reached for it, I grabbed the envelope and opened it. Inside was the tote bag I’d ordered. There was also a shipping label on the front of the envelope with my address on it.

Annoyed again, I shoved the package into my bag and did my best to get myself together. Honey had singlehandedly destroyed my bagel buzz and now it was going to be a challenge to get through the rest of the day.

Honey was ignoring me again,but this time it was obvious she wanted me toknowshe was ignoring me. Smiling and laughing and tossing her hair and being even brighter than she usually was, which was saying something. She might as well be glowing. I practically needed sunglasses to look in her direction without burning out my retinas.

No matter how much I didn’t want to look at her, I couldn’t stop. She drew my attention more than she ever had before and it was a struggle to remember what the hell I was actually doing. I kept losing my train of thought or drifting off or forgetting what I wanted to say. It was a miracle that I didn’t mess up anyone’s transactions.

Honey had been a distraction before. Now she was something else. Like a giant flashing billboard that I couldn’t ignore.

No matter what I did, I couldn’t ignore her.

But she didn’t talk to me or even look at me. I was putting everything away and covering up my table for the day when someone tapped me on the shoulder. Gritting my teeth to find a customer or someone else to annoy me, I was shocked when I found the youngest Holloway girl standing there and smiling at me, her blonde curls wild around her head, as if she’d just escaped from a windstorm.

“Hi. This is for you.” She held out a crisp twenty-dollar bill.

My mouth dropped open.

“It’s from Honey,” she said, shaking the bill at me. “She told me to give it to you.”

Oh she was shameless. Using an adorable child to try and settle this between us. Honey Holloway was more devious than I would have thought. I might have to reevaluate my initial impressions of this woman.

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