A Season for Hope (Sarra Cannon) (6 page)

I scoot toward the headboard and pull my other pillow into my lap. Monica has a steaming cup of coffee in her hand and she offers it to me.

“Thanks,” I say. “And I’m sorry about last night. I don’t know what got into me.”

“Apparently a tall, sexy guy with long, dark blond hair,” she says, a sparkle in her eyes. She sits down across from me, tucking her legs under her slim frame. “Tell me everything.”

I lean my head back against the wall. “You don’t want to know.”

“I half expected him to be here when I opened the door,” she says.

“Then why did you come in without knocking?” I throw the pillow at her. “You perv.”

She ducks and the pillow sails past. “Hey, if you have a chance to see a guy like that with his shirt off, you take it, okay?” she says with a laugh.

“You are so bad,” I say. “I’m so sorry to disappoint you.”

“What happened, then? You guys were looking very into each other on the dance floor, if I remember correctly,” she says. “And what the hell is up with your shoes on our doorstep this morning?”

“This morning?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “Does that mean you just got home?”

She shrugs and tries to hide her smile.

“You slut,” I joke.

“Hey, you’re one to talk,” she says. “I saw you kissing him. Who was that guy? He was freaking h.o.t.”

I sink deeper, pulling my legs up to my chest. “His name is Judd,” I say. “He’s a med student who comes into The Cup sometimes.”

She gives me a sideways look. “Why haven’t you mentioned him before?”

“I honestly barely noticed him before.”

“How is that even possible?” she asks. “If that guy walked into Amerigo’s, I would make a beeline for that table and spend the whole night at his beck and call.”

I roll my eyes, wishing I had an extra pillow to throw at her.

“Well, I ruined it, so it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“What do you mean? He seemed very into you the last time I saw you guys. I assumed you left together,” she says.

“We sort of did,” I say. “But I was such an idiot, Mon. I mean, we were having an awesome time and then we started dancing together. I thought there was something there between us. I had way too much to drink, I guess, because I pretty much threw myself at him.”

“I don’t think he minded,” she says with a giggle.

“I didn’t either, at first. But then I asked him to take me home.” I cringe as the words leave my mouth. I’ve never done anything like that in my life, and I have no idea why I chose last night to start.

“And?”

“And what? He said no,” I say with a shrug. “End of story.”

“Wait, you guys spend hours talking at the bar, you kiss like crazy on the dance floor, and then he tells you that no, he isn’t interested in taking you home and ravaging your body? Okay, so he’s crazy.”

“No, I’m stupid,” I say. “He was probably just being nice to me after hitting me in the face with a door and—”

“Whoa, wait a second,” she says, holding up her hand. “He’s the one who hit you with the door?”

“Yes,” I say, lifting my hand to the sore spot above my eye. It’s still tender and I suck in a breath. “Classy, huh?”

“It’s cute,” she says. “Not the cut, but the story. So he comes into your cafe to study and hang out sometimes and then he just happens to hit you with a door? And then somehow, he also just happens to be at the same club we were last night? It sounds like fate to me.”

“Shut up,” I say, not wanting to tell her how close she is to being right. “It’s not fate. It’s…I don’t know. Coincidence. A very embarrassing coincidence. I’m sure next time he sees me, he’ll run the other way.”

She reaches out and squeezes my foot. “Don’t say that,” she says. “Besides, maybe he was just trying to be a gentleman. Maybe he doesn’t put out on the first date.”

I can’t help but smile. Monica always knows how to make me feel better, but I think this situation is kind of hopeless. “What guy says no to a drunk girl who is throwing herself at him?”

She stares at me, her mouth slightly open.

“See? No one,” I say. “The only guy that says no is a guy who either isn’t interested or who, I don’t know, is saving himself for marriage or something. And he doesn’t strike me as the type.”

“What about the kiss?” she asks. “Did he kiss you? Or did you kiss him?”

I close my eyes and absently touch my lips. “I kissed him,” I say. “But he kissed me back. He was into it. Or at least I thought he was. There’s no way I imagined that. There was something there between us. What if I’ve been out of the game so long, I just imagined that he was into it? What if he was just being nice?”

“Kissing you passionately just to be nice? I don’t think so.”

I laugh. “Yeah, maybe not,” I say. I take a few more sips of the coffee, my headache easing up. “I don’t know, then. Maybe he’s dating someone else. Or maybe he’s just not really that into me and didn’t want to take it any further than a fun night at the club.”

Even as I say it, though, I don’t think it’s true.

“But the thing is, even before the kiss, we were having such a great time.” I clasp the warm mug between both hands. “We connected, you know? He even loved the same music I do. It was crazy. I never really talked to Preston like that and we were together for years. He never asked me about what kind of music I like or what kind of movies I wanted to watch. And even if he did, I was always so scared to tell him the truth. I always told Preston what he wanted to hear, thinking that if I was the perfect girlfriend, eventually he’d really love me.”

I fall silent. I’ve never put words to it like that, but as soon as they come out of my mouth, I am hit with the absolute truth of them.

With Preston, I was always fighting to feel worthy of him. Last night with Judd, I was just myself. And for a little while, I thought that was enough.

Monica pulls me into a hug. “Honey, if Preston couldn’t see that you are perfect just the way you are, then he never deserved you anyway.”

Tears spring to my eyes. “I’m not sure I ever really gave him the chance to see the real me,” I say, realizing it for the first time.

“Then it’s his loss,” she says.

“Is it?” I say, wiping at my eyes.

“Absolutely,” she says. “And if this other guy doesn’t see it either, then screw him.”

“I tried,” I say with a smile.

Monica laughs and stands up. “I’m sure you did,” she says. She turns and stares down at me. “It’s really good to see you smile again. I missed that happy face.”

“Me too,” I say.

“Now get your hungover ass out of bed and get ready for work,” she says. “You’re gonna be late.”

I lean forward to get a better look at the clock beside my bed. It’s nine-thirty and my shift at The Cup starts in thirty minutes. “Shit,” I say. I jump out of bed and run toward the shower without the luxury of time to worry about last night for another minute.

Chapter Ten

I’m halfway through my shift when the bell over the door rings.

I look up and hazel eyes meet mine. My heart skips a beat and my mouth falls open slightly.

I stop in mid-step, a very full cup of cappuccino in one hand and a hot chocolate in the other.

Sassy, one of the other servers, comes around the corner in a rush and smacks right into me. Coffee and hot chocolate splash down the front of my white work shirt and I stumble backward, the cups crashing to the ground.

Everyone in the small cafe turns to look. I bend down, avoiding the one set of eyes I don’t want watching me right now. How am I constantly making such a fool of myself around him?

“Be careful,” Mr. Edwards says. “Here, grab a broom. Don’t pick that up by hand. I don’t want you to cut yourself, Bailey.”

I stand and take the broom from him. My face is growing hotter by the second. I don’t dare look up and see if Judd is still watching me. If he’s smart, he turned around and got the hell out of here.

“You okay?” Sassy asks. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“I’m fine,” I say. “It was my fault. I zoned out for a second. I’m not feeling too great today.”

“Do you need to head home early?” Mr. Edwards asks. I hadn’t realized he was still standing behind me. “You shouldn’t be in here serving if you’re coming down with something.”

I shake my head and start sweeping up the mess on the floor. I can’t afford to take any time off work right now. I paid an arm and a leg for that stupid dress for the Christmas dance. If I don’t work my butt off this month, there’s no way I’ll make rent.

“I’m fine,” I say. “I just didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Okay, well, get that cleaned up and I’ll head back and remake those drinks for you.”

“Cappuccino and Hot choc,” I say.

Sassy and Mr. Edwards disappear into the small kitchen, leaving me out front to clean up the broken cups.

After about the third pass over the wet floor, a pair of tattered sneakers appears at the edge of the mess. I swallow, my stomach flip-flopping.

“Hey, you okay?”

The sound of his voice sends shivers up my spine. I look up and all I can see are those delicious lips. I look back down, not even wanting to know why he’s here today, of all days.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Sit anywhere you want. I’ll send Sassy over to take your order.”

“Wait—”

But I’m already gone.

I turn the corner out of sight and press my back against the wall. I press the broom and dustpan tight against my body, clutching them so tight. What the heck is he doing here?

I really hope he isn’t here to rub last night in my face.

I wonder if I can still get out of work and head home early. I can’t really afford it, but I do not want to be here with him for the next hour or two while he sits and studies. There’s no way I’ll be able to concentrate.

Even if there was some part of him that was coming back to see me today, there’s no way he’s going to like me more with coffee stains all over my shirt. To top it off, there are bags under my eyes and my hair is pulled into a tight bun that was still dripping wet when I left the house this morning.

Not exactly looking my best today.

Besides, Judd already rejected me once. I’m not about to give him the opportunity to do it again.

Mr. Edwards emerges from the kitchen and I spring into action, hoping he doesn’t realize I’ve just been standing here. “All cleaned up?” he asks.

“The floor is,” I say.

“I think I have a spare shirt in the closet in my office,” he says. “It might be a bit big for you, but it’ll work for today. Why don’t you run in there and get changed so you don’t have to wear that the rest of the day.”

I nod and disappear into his office, glad for a temporary escape. I take my time. I hope Sassy gets Judd’s order. I don’t think I can face him.

He was the last person I expected to see here today. I thought he’d be avoiding this place and anywhere I might be like the plague.

And what the heck is up with the way I reacted just now? Just a moment’s glimpse into his eyes rendered me completely paralyzed for a second. I’ve never reacted to a guy’s presence like that in my entire life.

I pull the coffee-stained shirt over my head and toss it on the floor. The manager’s extra shirt is hanging on the back of the door. He was right about it being big. It’s an extra-large and it swallows me. I try to tuck it in so it looks like an actual shirt instead of a tent, but it’s hopeless.

Great. So not only did I proceed to make a complete clown of myself in front of Judd for the second day in a row, but now I also have to look like I’m drowning in white cotton for the rest of the afternoon.

Attractive.

I can’t stall in here much longer, and I really don’t want to get in any trouble. I need this job.

I grab my dirty shirt from the floor and walk into the hallway. I toss it on top of my backpack and take a deep breath, drudging up any confidence I can force to the surface before I walk out front.

Maybe he didn’t stay. Maybe he’s gone.

As soon as I come out into the main part of the cafe, my eyes flicker to the table near the window where he always sits. He’s there and my shoulders tense.

Judd has his earbuds in and is hunched over a big stack of books.

Before running into him—or running into a door—yesterday, I didn’t think I’d ever paid much attention to him. But watching him now, I realize I’ve watched him there many times before. He’s probably been in here dozens of times. Even though he always sits near the window, he always faces in toward the cafe. Most of the people who sit there choose to face out so they can watch the people walking by. The window has a great view of the quad where students play Frisbee and sit studying in the summer or walk back and forth to classes in the winter.

But it occurs to me now Judd always sits facing in.

As if he senses me staring, he looks up. A slow smile tugs at his lips, but before I can react or do anything other than stare like a dumbass, he goes back to his books.

Sassy walks up to take his order and I feel a strange disappointment wash over me.

What the heck is wrong with me? Wasn’t I hoping she would take his order so I wouldn’t have to?