Page 19 of Fall I Want
I walk several blocks until I meet up with those waiting for a cup of Cozy. Briefly, I contemplate going back to the store and grabbing some tea, then calling it a day.
However, someone still owes me a text so maybe seeing my face will remind her of that IOU she gave me.
When I enter, it’s as if Autumn can feel my eyes on her; she turns her head toward me, like I commanded her to notice me, or maybe she felt my presence.
A crack of lightning snaps between us and she sharply inhales.
Why am I constantly being led to her? Even when I don’t want to be.
The silent conversation continues for a few more desperate seconds, and I’m the one to force my attention away.
This needs to stop before she becomes the wind in my sails.
Ten minutes later, I’m in front of the cash register speaking to Blaire. It feels like déjà vu as she gives me a warm smile.
However, I notice how she shoots glances toward Autumn. I glance at the other woman’s name tag—Julie—and I catch a whiff of the sweet aroma of sugar and bread as she passes by carrying a tray of chocolate croissants.
Julie’s green eyes meet mine and she bursts into laughter. “Alex. Good to see you again. Street clothes today? Wow, I didn’t recognize you.”
I grin, and it’s easy to romanticize living in Cozy Hollow permanently. No place in the world has friendlier people.
By how Autumn’s friends are gawking, I assume they’ve talked about me.
While it shouldn’t please me, it absolutely fucking does.
I’m happy to be the center of their conversation, but I keep my jaw locked tight, not giving any of them a reaction.
Blaire clears her throat. “Your regular order?”
I meet her eyes, noticing her witch earrings. Her confidence is palpable. “You remember what I had two and a half weeks ago?”
“No one in this building will ever forget Mr. Ristretto.”
“I love to hear it. May I also order a slice of pumpkin bread and a pound of Colombian whole beans?”
“Ah, I’m sorry. We just sold out of pumpkin bread,” she says. “What about a chocolate croissant?”
“No, thanks,” I tell her.
“Apologies, it’s super limited. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Maybe.” I lean in and lower my voice, ridiculously aware that Autumn is listening. “And can I request someone other thanhermake my drink?”
“Sure thing,” Blaire says, typing something into the computer. Blaire places a bag of beans into a paper sack, handing it to me.
After I swipe my card, the sticker prints out on the machine. I think I hear Autumn scoff as I move to the opposite side of the dining room and wait. While I pretend to be reading something, I glance up at her, and our eyes meet.
She immediately looks away. And even though the magnetic force begs me forward, my feet stay planted in place and I unlock my phone, scrolling through social media to keep my mind busy.
A couple of minutes later, my name is called.
“Ristretto for Alex,” Julie says.
I lock my phone and put it in my pocket.
Julie hands me the cup and I remove the lid, then swirl it around, studying the crema on top. Then I take a sip. She waits with bated breath and so does Autumn, even if she pretends like she doesn’t care.
“This is perfect.” I lift the cup and smile. “Thanks.”
