Page 62 of Girls Will Be Girls
I guess I’ll never know because there is no reality where I’d be able to say any of these things to him.
I take in a deep breath and practice my gratitudes.
My friends.
The shimmering lake.
The tiny sliver of tan on my shoulders.
I let out a long exhale and slam my laptop shut.
Time to head out to find some food and an ice-cold, sugary beverage, preferably covered in whipped cream. I deserve a treat.
I dip into my Rachel Green wardrobe, because Lou mentioning prank movies yesterday puts me in a 90’s mood.
I go for a short and loose black dress over a white cropped t-shirt, a light sweater tied around my waist, some chunky sandals, and a backwards cap.
At what has now become my local cafe, I study the cabinet for an awkward amount of time, unable to choose between the almond croissant and the cinnamon scroll. The young girl behind the counter, who looks about Casey’s age, hovers, but the pressure to choose only makes me hesitate even more. The shop is thankfully quiet, but when I hear the door jingle a couple of times, I gesture for the person next to me to go first.
I turn my attention to the drinks menu, still undecided.
“Hey.” A gruff voice whispers from behind me. His lips are so close to my skin they leave a trail of heat and goosebumps on my neck.
I turn my chin up to see him smiling at me, and all I can manage is, “You’re here.”
He grins wider. “I am.”
I clear my throat, remembering that this man wants to date me, so I should try not to be weird.
“I thought you’d be away for the day.”
“I’m local enough today that I could pop back.” He steps next to me, so we’re both angled to the menu. “Can I join you?”
I nod, and then he nods to the now free counter. “What are you having?”
We step up together, and I order a decaf butterscotch latte, and Lou orders a black coffee.
“Anything to eat?” The girl behind the counter asks us.
“Umm.” I hesitate.
I look at Lou, and he’s just grinning at me. “What?” I say. “I can’t decide between the croissant or the scroll,” I whisper yell at him.
Lou turns to the girl behind the counter. “We’ll have a croissant and a scroll, please.” He looks down at me while she’s tapping it into her screen. “I’ll have the one you don’t want once you decide.”
That makes butterflies take off in my belly. Or maybe I’m just hungry.
Lou pays before I get a chance to object, while he clarifies. “Not a date.”
I hide a laugh with an eye roll, while he asks them to make it to-go, telling me he wants to take me somewhere.
Stupid butterflies.
He hands me my drink once it’s ready, then takes his and the two paper bags in one hand. He lowers sunglasses over his eyes and leads us outside with his other hand placed on my lower back.
I don’t know if it’s from his hand on me for those two seconds, the way his forearm flexes from holding his drink and our treats, or the small smile he aims at me, but something snaps in my brain, and I’m overcome with the need to touch this man. He’s too much and I can’t take it anymore.
I wrap my hand in his as we walk, interlacing our fingers. His are big and smooth, and make me feel flustered. I’m more nervous about this than I would be about kissing him.
