Page 1 of Shy Girl
1
Dagny
Dagny:Jayson brought another date into the coffee shop tonight.
The text flew out of my fingers the moment I could send it without looking like a crazy stalker woman. Some magic in my phone sent it across space and over to my best friend, Serafina.
Her reply came seconds later.
Serafina:WHAT?!
A smile slipped across my face at her immediate—and appropriately shocked—response, but I stifled it. A quick glance to the other side of the Frolicking Moose Coffee Shop confirmed that Jayson Hernandez still sat at the same table where he always sat. This week, he spoke to a lovely woman with dark eyes and delicate hands that belonged in a diamond commercial.
Dagny:Third date, three weeks in a row, with a different woman. Comes every Friday night like clockwork.
Dots appeared on the screen to indicate her reply. So that I didn’t look like too much of a slacker, I reached for a rag to wipe down the counter for the third time and prayed no one came through the drive-through.
This was prime-level girlfriend gossip material, here.
Serafina:Coffee as a first date makes sense.
Dagny:You think he's a serial dater?
Serafina:I could see it. He's always been a bit non-committal in the dating world. Do you think he's a player?
Her question swirled around my mind as I stole another glance at Hernandez. Truly, neither of us knew him allthatwell—despite the fact that I went to high school with him and reverentially adored him from the sidelines of my life for almost ten years. Freshman Dagny had serious feelings for Hernandez, the beloved Senior.
Was he a player? No. Hecouldbe, with those thick shoulders, razor-sharp instincts, and a confidence that carried him places. His way-too-long eyelashes and quick smile certainly didn’t help matters.
But he wasn’t a player.
Dagny:Doubt it.
Serafina:I feel like we’d know if he was trying to date, so what is going on and why hasn’t he asked you out?
A laugh almost bubbled out of me. I shook my head as I replied.
Dagny:How would you *know* if he was trying to date?! That makes NO sense.
Serafina:Mountain life rarely does, I’ve found. Maybe the girls he brings are friends?
Dagny:Maybe? They aren’t from here.
Serafina:The mountains aren’t THAT big. None of them are familiar to you?
Dagny:None.
Serafina:I accept this romantic mystery and commit myself to figuring it out.
There was a sense of warmth and friendliness in all the women he visited with, but they didn’t strike me asfriends. Most of them dressed like they had someplace to go—form-fitting pencil skirts. Collared white shirts. Gleaming black hair. Sparkling earrings. If it was a date, why a coffee shop while wearing such glamor? Hernandez was always casual in a tee and jeans. One time he showed up in his deputy uniform. One time in mud-splattered pants and work boots, like he’d been out on his family farm.
Generally I had a good read on people, but in this situation I felt turned upside down. Nothing was clear except the facts.
Jayson Hernandez showed up every Friday at the same time, purchased the same drink, sat in the same seat, and met a different girl. The ritualistic aspect of the mystery killed me. The girls changed every week, arrived in separate cars, departed with a kiss on the cheek after approximately an hour, and nothing else.
Serafina:Is he in his deputy uniform?
Dagny:Not tonight.
