Page 4 of The Last Dance

‘I should get back to work. Thanks for this.’ He holds up his coffee. ‘Oh, hey…’ he stops after only taking a step from the table ‘… did you apply for that job?’

That job. A few weeks ago, I finally earned enough credits to graduate with my Bachelor’s in communication and journalism. I was one of those high-school graduates who couldn’t wait to be on my own and moved out the day I turned eighteen. Not because I hated my parents or anything, I just couldn’t wait to be an adult. It didn’t take me very long to realize that being an adult isn’t exactly as awesome as I had expected. Bills, working, feeding yourself, that’s all a lot harder than it seems. Because of my desire to be an adult long before I was really ready, I struggled through college taking a class here and there when I had the time and could afford it. Starbucks was never meant to be my permanent job in life, but considering college has taken me almost seven years, I’ve been here a lot longer than I thought I would be. For the first two years of school I didn’t even know what I wanted to major in. I finally chose journalism. Now, I’ve done it, years after all my friends, and my Bachelor’s degree certificate is in the mail. Naturally the next step would be to finally get a job doing what I’ve studied for so long.

I force a weird smile. ‘Um…’

I haven’t applied yet. I’ve been staring at the job listing for a week. It doesn’t close for a few more days so I’ve still got time to convince myself that I could even get this job for a popular local website writing restaurant reviews and news. I know I’d be good at it, because I write these reviews in my own head for every restaurant I go to. I need to talk myself into believing I could do it for more than just myself.

‘Ambri, you’re such a talented writer. And you know I’m not only saying that because I’ve helped with your homework. At some point you’ll have to accept that you’re talented. Plus, it’s your dream job writing about food, your most favorite thing besides seeing Infusion live five thousand times like some kind of stalker.’ He laughs. ‘Apply for the job. Don’t talk yourself out of it.’

I sigh as I drop my head towards the floor a little ashamed of myself for being so pathetically insecure. ‘There you go, always pushing me to be a better person.’ I huff it out with a laugh because even though I pretend it annoys me, him always supporting me is part of what I love about him. If he didn’t push me to go for my dreams, who would? ‘Fine. I’ll apply tonight but I won’t hold my breath that they’ll actually interview me.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘I mean, come on, besides a degree, my only résumé filler isthis.’ I motion to the room around me.

‘Everyone starts somewhere.’

‘You know, someday I’m gonna finally grow up and get my shit together and you’ll have no one to motivate.’

‘Right.’ He laughs as he makes his way to the door. ‘Don’t do it.’ He shakes his head. ‘Don’t ever grow up, Ambri. You being all this is part of what I love about you.’

I grin like a loon as he says it, my insides doing a little flip.

Don’t do it, daydreamer me. Don’t focus on his using the word love. Now is not the time and that is not what he meant.

‘Also…’ he stops with the door partway opened, turning back to me ‘… don’t wear the stripper heels. I’m not carrying you home again.’ He winks, his ocean-blue eyes dancing in the overhead light as he laughs.

‘Got it,’ I say, the heat rushing to my cheeks as customers glance over at me, likely judging me by a single sentence. ‘Nota stripper, folks,’ I announce as he walks out the door, my hands in the air as if surrendering my personal life to a bunch of strangers. I make my way back to the counter with a laugh.‘Not. A. Stripper.’

I only wore those heelsonetime, and trust me when I say I learned my lesson. Heels have no place at standing-room-only concerts. Now I know. And he didn’t carry meallthe way home. It was more of a piggyback ride and it was only for a block after it started pouring down rain.

‘Something is definitely different between you two lately.’ Jenna is wiping down the counter when I get back to my station at the register. The after-lunch caffeine-withdrawal crowd has finally died down and we can relax and do the many other things required of us on our shifts. ‘You’re flirty with each other. And he said he loved you.’

‘Uh, that’s not at all what he said. Henry is not flirting with me, trust me. We started out as friends and we’ll stay friends. I’m pretty much the complete opposite of his type anyway. He goes for the girls who’ve got their shit together, and, let’s face it, that’s not me.’ I grab the rag from her hand and take over the cleaning.

His type is women like my sister. Five feet nine inches, perfect curves, long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, totally fashionable, incredibly cool, and a degree in technology. I think that’s part of what attracted him to her in the first place. Not only was she gorgeous, but she was in a tech field like him. She seemed to have it all together.

Then there’s me. I’m not all that serious about most aspects of life; sometimes I’m as insecure as a teenager; I have a mouth like a sailor; I’m not even a little bit up on the newest fashion trends; I’m obsessed with food; I’m brunette, and I’m only five foot four. I’m average. I’m that more than average girl that does not get second glances and men falling over themselves to be around like my sister used to. I’m the polar opposite of his type.

Maybe that’s why we’ve been friends so long? Maybe I do have qualities he likes, obviously, I mean, we’ve been friends for over a decade, but there’s no attraction so any romance would be pointless. Just friends is our path in life.

‘Fine, you’re right. With the whole history you guys have together you two would probably be a complicated mess romantically. But, that doesn’t mean you can’t add him to your list of fantasies… I know I have.’ She giggles.

Way ahead of ya, Jenna. Way too freaking ahead of ya. I glare over at her playfully, hoping mind-reading is never ever a thing in the future. The chime of the door as a group of women walk through makes me thankful people don’t only drink coffee in the mornings. Customers mean we can’t continue talking about him and hopefully by the end of my shift, all will be forgotten.

*

He’s standing near the entrance as I make my way down the sidewalk. We don’t live far from the Crystal Ballroom concert venue so it’s easier to walk than it would be to find a parking spot.

When he spots me, he glances down at his watch animatedly, before tossing his hands in the air with a laugh.

‘Sorry!’ I yell the half-block that still stands between us.

He’d never actually be mad that I’m late, but he’s definitely going to give me a hard time for it. That’s what we do.

‘It’s eight-fifteen and you live blocks from here.Whatwere you doing?’ he asks as I cross the street.

‘I was getting dressed!’

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