Page 19 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
When I get home, I’m in no mood to watch more rom-coms. Instead, I buy a novel that promises “treachery via time loop,” hoping that, despite the story being set in the distant future, it will give me some ideas for sorting out my problem.
After reading a quarter of the book, I conclude that this is unlikely, but I’m quite enjoying the novel. It’s nice to be able to read and watch movies on a weekday afternoon, rather than being at the office. Just in case, I fill out the contact form on the author’s website, asking if it was based on personal experience. After all, aren’t writers often told to write what they know?
Avery finally breaks up with Joe, and we arrange to meet for a celebratory dinner. I suggest we avoid the market—the thought of running into Cam again is too humiliating to bear—and we eventually agree on a burger joint.
Although my attempt at a meet cute didn’t lead to a kiss, I’m a little inspired by the feeling of Cam’s hand around mine. I think it’s worth trying that again, but this time, I’ll spill it onhim, even if the idea makes me feel rather guilty. I tell Avery about my plan, and she approves.
The next day, Avery is still in the loop, and I’m simultaneously disappointed that changing her love life didn’t work and relieved that my friend is still here.
In an attempt to mix things up for my encounter with Cam, I put on my favorite drop earrings and a sundress. The dress was one of my rare impulse purchases a few years ago. Occasionally, I wear it to the office with a cardigan, but mostly, it just sits in my closet.
I spin around and the skirt flies up. Oops. Better not do that when I’m in public or I might flash someone.
Before heading to the tea shop, I take an empty plastic cup and practice turning around and knocking into the refrigerator (i.e., Cam). After nearly bruising my forehead, I decide to stop practicing. I’ll just have to cross my fingers and hope I can pull this off. Improvise.
Hahaha. Improvisation iswayoutside my skill set.
Still, I’ll do anything to get out of this stupid loop, so I march into the tea shop and place my order, as usual. Cam enters at the same time as always.
“Have we met before?” he says when he turns to me.
Now, spilling my drink is the main part of my plan, but I figure a touch of flirtation beforehand wouldn’t go amiss.
“I don’t think so. I’m sure I’d remember if we had.” I shoot him a smile and do something with my head, something that’s supposed to look like I’m tossing my hair over my shoulder in a sexy way, though I’m not sure that’s what happens.
He smiles back, but he’s a rather smiley guy, from what I’ve observed, so it’s hard to read how he feels about this.
“I’m Noelle,” I say.
“Cam.”
There’s a moment of silence.
“Number thirty-two?” says the woman behind the counter.
“That’s me! Thank you!” I sound artificially upbeat.
As I reach for my cup, I make a point of sliding closer to Cam. Then I spin, the hand carrying the bubble tea rather far from my body. It’s at this moment that I remember I wasn’t supposed to spin, and in a panic, I try to shove down my dress with both hands so no one sees my underwear. Rather than knocking into the hard refrigerator—I mean, Cam’s chest—the cup spills on his crotch before falling to the ground.
“Shit!” I cry, more vehemently than I did yesterday.
“Don’t worry about it,” Cam says, even though bubble tea is running down his legs. A tapioca pearl clings to his shorts, very close to…
Well, it’s fallen to the floor now.
“No big deal,” he says. “I was going home to change before work anyway, and it’s hot outside, so I won’t be cold.” He’s definitely much calmer than I’d be in such a situation.
Just as I’m debating what to do next, since a kiss doesn’t appear to be forthcoming, the door opens, and a middle-aged woman walks in with her small dog. Before she can stop him, the pup lunges toward the tapioca pearls.
Now, I suspect tapioca pearls are not as bad for dogs as grapes—despite being somewhat similar in appearance—but they’re probably not an ideal part of a dog’s diet. I manage to step in front of Cam and the mess on the floor, and the dog laps at my bare leg, making the situation even more awkward.
There’s a banging sound behind me, and an employee comes around the counter with a mop. I feel embarrassed at the extra work I’ve made for him, as well as the scene I’ve caused.
All I can do is flee—and this time, it’s without any mentions of my private jet.
Okay, I think I need to call off Operation: Get Kissed. This really isn’t going well, and I don’t think the truth would go over well either.
Hi, I’m stuck in a time loop and I think a kiss might help get me out of it. Want to do me a favor and stick your tongue down my throat?
