Page 2 of The Girlfriend Zone

Taking my arm from Dolly’s shoulder I gesture to the inside of the café—a perfect place for a date. It’s pre-season but there’s no hockey practice tomorrow, so why not lock in the chance right now? “Maybe I did. I’d be happy to explain more over a not-coffee beverage of your choice.”

She taps her to-go cup with polished black nails. “I’m a green tea girl.”

“This is great. You think coffee is vile and prefer to drink something that smells like a just-mown lawn. Look at all the opinions we have.”

“So many more to learn, I’m sure,” she says and we’re this close to a date, but then she dips her face and checks her phone screen.

It’s in her hand, and from the looks of it, someone’s calling, but I didn’t hear it ring.

Odd. I’d think it was asave metactic, but her phone flashes with the wordDad.

She raises her face, her smile fading, and the playful atmosphere shifts. Before she answers though, she looks my way once more. “I hope you get to enjoy your next not-coffee date,” she says. Then, with maybe some reluctance in her expression, she turns away and answers her phone in a warm voice, “Hi, Dad.”

She walks up the street. Away from me.

I stand there for a second, weighing what just happened. Did she actually turn me down or did she leave the door open? I’d like to think that was a breadcrumb—not-coffee date—but she could just be phenomenally smooth. I’m not sure. But then, I remind myself this wasn’t going to be as easy as asking her out right here, right now. Nothing good comes easily. I watch her go, admiring her attitude, her sass, her banter, and, well, let’s be blunt—her ass.

But what gets me most is when she reaches the corner. It’s almost imperceptible—just a quick glance over her shoulder—but I see it. She steals a final glance at me.

Yes. Fuck yes.

It was a breadcrumb, and I will take it. Follow it. And devise a plan.

I pump a mental fist, then haul Dolly inside High Kick Coffee, past chattering customers camped out at tables and a handful of people waiting to place their orders. Birdie has plenty of employees here to tend to them, butshe opened a coffee shop because she likes people as much as she likes bling. In typical Birdie fashion, everything in High Kick Coffee sparkles, from the countertops to the mirrors on the walls to the clock with a woman’s leg kicking back and forth to keep time.

I prop Dolly out of the way behind the counter as my grandmother starts an espresso for me. “Tell me the brunette with the flower tattoos is a regular,” I say, thoughts still centered on the woman who’s gotten away for now.

“Why? Are you in love already?” Birdie teases with a knowing grin.

“More like insta-infatuation,” I admit, leaning on the counter. “But sure, call it love.”

Birdie’s smile widens. “The woman with the flower tattoos is a photographer. We’re working together soon.” She gestures to her old showgirl photos hanging behind the counter—pictures of her kicking her leg high while wearing spangled bikinis and feathered headdresses. “Time to update the pics, don’t you think?”

I try to imagine Grandma dusting off her sequins and feathers to recreate her glory days on the Vegas stage. Is she serious about the photo shoot? She did insist I drag Dolly all the way from her home to her coffee shop after this morning’s practice. When my grandmother has a vision, I wouldn’t put anything past her.

“New photos sound great.” I lean my elbows on the counter in an oh-so-casual way. “Especially if you let me know when you’re doing them.”

“We haven’t picked a date yet.”

“But you will,” I predict.

“I will,” she says with a sly smile. “Eager much?”

I shrug. “I know what I like. What’s her name?”

“Leighton,” Birdie says. “She comes in about once a week.”

“Leighton,” I echo, enjoying the sound of it. “Perfect. I’d hate to miss her, so I guess I’ll be stopping by every day till I ask her out.”

Birdie laughs, shaking her head. “You were always my most determined grandchild. Now, be a dear and put Dolly by the door. She has a job to do.”

“Right.” I carry the mannequin to the front where she can welcome customers to High Kick Coffee—where the caffeine comes with an extra kick.

Before I duck back into the shop, I sneak one last look up the street.

You’ll be back, Leighton, and so will I.

I return to the counter as Birdie steps around the counter to the stool I always sit in.

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