Page 6 of Mixed Connection
Unlocking my car door, I climb in and press the locks before turning it on. I pull out of the parking lot and roll the windows down to enjoy the evening breeze whip through my curls. Nothing short of death could steal away the effect he left on me.
3
Lo
I can’t wait to see you babes at Benny’s! OOH, that’s a good group chat name.
*Group chat name has been updated to Babes at Benny’s*
The alarm from my phone sounds in the background, letting me know that if I don’t get my ass moving I’ll be late. I slap my hand at it, knocking it to the floor in the process. Setting multiple alarms should help me stay on time and on track of when I need to leave—what it actually does is give me a false sense of security, blanketing me in my own lies. Kicking my legs at the tangled sheet, I truly feel like a toddler at this moment. Throwing a temper tantrum because my sandwich wasn’t cut the exact way I wanted. Today is just one of those days that I would rather stay in bed, but I have things I need to get done. I peel the duvet back, sit up, and force myself out of bed.
Living upstairs above the bar, allows me extra time to get my day started and saves me a good sum of money inrent and utilities. When I first thought of Shaken Tropes, I knew I was going to want to have my own business near town, instead of downtown. Instead of needing to pay for two separate mortgages, I opted to buy a building that could work in both capacities. It didn’t hurt that I stumbled on a construction company nearby that could accomplish everything on my wishlist. The owner is a goliath but a softy at heart, we became fast friends during the design portion, and created my own sanctuary that encompassed my business too. I have future plans for my apartment when Lo and I decide to expand; he worked up mocks of future remodel possibilities.
Folding the sheet and duvet over my bed, I straighten my satin-covered pillows and pour a glass of water from my bedside carafe. The sky is all blue; not a cloud in sight. At least, not from my bedroom window. It’s going to be a great night to stargaze from the rooftop deck… one that is all mine. There is nothing that fills me with all-encompassing joy than when I get to enjoy a cocktail while I send some much needed wishes up to the moon.
I take in a deep breath at the thought of holding a cafe con leche, and the scent of bourbon hits my nose from downstairs. It takes me right back to being introduced to the boy I had a thing for all those years ago, who is very much a man now.A sexy one, my inner voice reminds me.
Jameson’s thick, muscled arms felt like a comforting weight as he wrapped them around my center stopping me from falling on my face after he ran into me. He was gentler than I expected for a man of his size—limber too, with all the dancing we did. The way his hands ghosted along my waist with feather-soft touches left me almost panting with a deep want to know how his hands would feel in other places.
My phone dings, pulling me out of my thoughts and reminding me of thoseworthless,and possibly forgetful, hands. Hands that couldn’t bother to call or text me. Not even once. It has been twodays since the reunion and I’m not one to rush anyone but,come on. Two days is enough time to say something, anything. He seemed so interested. I’m frustrated, convinced the attraction was one-sided.
Shrugging and shaking my head, I guess spicy romance really is taking over my mind and…well, I find myself looking for romantic scenarios. What girl doesn’t want swoon-worthy love? I shrug my shoulders up to my ears at no one but myself. I guess I could have imagined it, spicy romance has quickly become anot soguilty pleasure, because I don’t feel guilty for enjoying something so damn good. I can’t even count how many fictional relationships I have right now. But no matter how fine they are, they are not keeping my sheets warm at night. At this point, my bed might as well be frostbitten.
Since the reunion, Facebook’speople you may knowfeature has continued to push him in my face. I know I should remove the pop-up, but I can’t force myself to, not after all the years of crushing on him during high school. Not yet, at least. He has a handsome face I want to throttle, but he doesn’t truly deserve my energy if he’s not interested.On to the nextas Paloma would say. I’m a crippling romantic and I am holding out, hoping for my whirlwind romance.
Flicking on the bathroom light, I dig underneath the vanity and grab my hair dryer, along with my favorite curly hair attachment, and plug it in. Before clicking on my diffuser, not trusting my internal clock, my eyes snap up to check the time in the corner of the vanity, and it looks like I was right not to trust myself. I needed to be out of here five minutes ago, so it looks like I am going out into the world looking like a waterlogged rat instead.
Putting the blow dryer down, I sweep my hair back in a low ponytail that’s parted down the middle and apply a swipe of red lipstick. Wiggling my hips I pull on my jean shorts andbutton them before pulling on a soft white t-shirt that is slightly oversized. These high waist shorts are soft from years of wear, a clear favorite in my wardrobe, they hug my curves just the way I like. I tuck my shirt in a bit and pair my outfit with sandals the color of dark mustard, and head out the door. Just as I am walking down the stairs, my phone chirps with an incoming video call and Paloma’s bright, caramel eyes and wine-colored hair fills my screen.
I swear this woman is probably the only person I will answer a random video call from. “Hola, babe! How are we feeling this morning?” She wiggles her eyebrows at me and the large, gold hoops that dangle from her ears twist back and forth as she bounces in her seat. My lips twitch, cracking my resting bitch face as it always does when we’re talking.
“Today is going to be a good day,” I declare. “I refuse to focus anymore on Mister Tall, Dark, and Bulldozer-y.”
“Forget him babe, if he isn’t going to call you then it’s his loss. You are a fucking catch! On to the next one,” she chirps from the other side of the phone.
“I know, I know. I just felt this chemistry with him and it’s bothering me,” I respond, letting my annoyance seep through my voice. I circle my hand in a flourish instead of expressing how ridiculous I feel for wanting this connection so badly. Okay, maybe I am going to focus on him a bit more. One night at a reunion and I am stuck on him. And for what? “I’m heading out the door right now to meet you both for brunch. Are we still meeting at our spot?”
“Of course we are! They have these new waffles I want to try,” she says, almost dancing in response. Paloma loves waffles, at this point, I think she’s in a relationship with them.
“Okay babes, I will be there in ten…” I sing-song the last few words to her.
“Do you want me to swing by and pick you up?” she offers, causing me to lean back and peer at the clear, blue sky from the side door window. It’s a perfect day.
“Nope, it’s only a ten-minute walk. I think the fresh air will do me good. But you can drop me back off because I am going to need to be rolled out of there,” I say.
“You and me both!” she replies before we disconnect the call. I push open the door to the bar, locking it before turning on the paved sidewalk on my way to Eggs Benny.
Swinging the heavy wood door of our favorite brunch spot open, my eyes immediately find Paloma who must have walked in moments before me. Her arms are outstretched to me and a high-pitched squeal catches us both by surprise, freezing us in the moment. Paloma and I both look toward the upstairs foyer where the squeal originated to see one of our oldest friends. Janelle’s joy is contagious.
I couldn’t contain the elation I felt when she called me yesterday, saying she was free today and really wanted to get together with us since it has been a decade since she last saw Paloma. Our screams and giggles quickly follow as we rush up the stairs, pulling each other into bear hugs.
“Oh my freaking God, Paloma! It’s so damn good to see you girl.” Janelle’s voice is an octave higher than normal as she pulls back from Paloma, just enough to look into her face. I can feel the joy radiating out from all of us.
“I know! And it already feels like the summer pool days!” Paloma answers, pulling Janelle into another hug; each of us giving each other kisses on the cheeks.
I turn to pull the red, leather-upholstered chair out and lounge into the pillow-soft seat. My eyes take in our surroundings, noting the small changes Benny has made since the last time we were here. I take in the plush decor while my two best friends do the catching up they missed out on at the reunion. Eggs Benny is an interesting spot—soft, eclectic maximalist is what I would call it. There are booths of different shades in every color palette, mis-matched chairs, and tables of different sizes and materials. Everything somehow blends together so well.
I drop my head back, swaying my shoulders to the soft music playing in the background, and allow a lazy grin to form as I look up to the ceiling. The light fixtures are full of art pieces that were installed around bulbs. Some have half a red painted chair, others with the sexy lady leg lamp from that Christmas movie everyone loves. Sinking deep into the plush cushions of the seats, it’s like sitting on a cloud and I consider for a moment how I can sneak it out of here. I know just the place for it in my apartment. I think he figured if the chairs were soft, people would eat more and not conspire to steal them. If I could fit it in my bag, he’d have a real problem on his hands.
