Heartbreak Café

by A. R. Perry

  “Just say you’ll accept it without complaint.”

  I let out a frustrated groan. “Fine. Whatever.” He won’t let this go. I can tell by the twinkle in his eyes.

  His grin is almost devilish as he bites his bottom lip and holds the mystery item out in the space between us.

  Oh no.

  Nope.

  “I’m not wearing that.”

  He pops the lid. “No arguments remember? Now give me your hand.”

  “We’re not going to the dance.”

  “Exactly.” He pulls out a white corsage, setting the container down on the coffee table. “We’re not going because you didn’t want to, but I still consider you my date to the dance, so hand.”

  With a sigh I stick my arm out and allow him to slip the ugly thing on my wrist. Okay, not ugly, but at the same time it is because of what it represents.

  “Now me.” He holds out a boutonniere. Same cream-shaded rose. Same dreadful baby’s breath.

  “Did I mention how stupid this was?”

  “You did.” He turns to the side and puffs out his chest so I can attach it to his shirt.

  I do my best not to cop a feel, but my hands might have skimmed his pec and they might have been as hard, and for lack of a better word, squeezable as I imagined.

  Not that I’ve imagined it.

  Okay, yeah, I totally have.

  “Can we get on with the show now?” I ask as I take a step back and adjust my gaze so I’m not ogling him anymore.

  “Yup.” He tosses me the remote, then picks up a box of microwavable popcorn. “Cue it up and I’ll pop this.”

  He jogs around the couch and into the kitchen. I have to marvel at how comfortable he is. I mean, he’s been in my house twice and here he is acting like it’s his home.

  Wonder if this is his MO with every girl he dates?

  I suppress a groan. We’re not dating. We’re hanging out and having fun. There will be no strings. No lovey-dovey eyes. No bases.

  “You hear that, heart?” I whisper as I click on the TV.

  The show is loaded on the screen, paused at the intro, and I’m curled up on the couch with my favorite snuggly blanket wrapped around me when Braden comes into the room, a giant red bowl I didn’t know we owned in his hand. Then he surprises me by plopping down on the couch. Right next to me. As in his shoulder is resting against mine.

  I clear my throat and try to shift away, but I’m pinned against the stupid armrest.

  “So what episode are we on again?” he asks, oblivious to how he’s crowding me.

  “We never finished the first one.” I tuck the blanket between us and pretend to shiver so he won’t get offended. Even though I shouldn’t care if he is, I mean, personal space much?

  “Right.” He picks up a piece of popcorn, then drops it back into the bowl.

  God, I hope he’s not reliving the whole awkward kitchen moment.

  “Well, that episode was super weird, anyway. Let’s skip to the next one.”

  If it will get me out of any deep discussions about kisses and feelings.

  I skip to the next episode then once again try to lean away, resting my head on my bent forearm.

  Braden remains glued to my side throughout the whole episode, which turns out to be way better than the first. Well, what I saw. I kept sneaking peeks at him, watching to see if he would notice how freaking close he was, but nope, he sits there watching the screen, eating the whole bowl of popcorn and downing at least two sodas. No clue how he stays so fit with all that crap running through his body.

  “That was crazy.” He reaches for the remote and pauses the show before it can roll into the next episode. “I can see this happening.”

  “The part where we live in shoeboxes and are forced to watch porn ads?”

  Braden laughs as he sets the bowl on the coffee table, giving me a little wiggle room to tuck my feet under and put space between us.

  “No, the part where you work a million hours a day at some crap facility to earn enough money to eat.”

  “So how we live now? You do realize this show is social commentary on how addicted to technology society is.”

  “Really?”

  “Totally. The first was a live broadcast. This one had a whole freaking wall that was a TV. People spent hard-earned money on clothes for their avatar and were obsessed with TV fame. I’m seeing a theme.”

  Braden rubs his palm across his chin. “You might be right. Let’s see what the next episode is about.” Before I can protest, he clicks Play.

  When he settles back, he shifts and brings his arm around my shoulders. I stiffen as his hand rests on my upper arm and he lets his thumb move in small circles.

  “Is this okay?” he whispers.

  I want to say, no back up, dude, but I’m also surrounded by his body wash or deodorant and it’s screwing with me because all I want to do is lean in and take a giant whiff. However, smelling him would be way creepy and way further out of line than an innocent arm around my shoulders. So I give in to it. Besides, the warmth from his body is kind of nice. But so help me, if he moves south, I will cut it off.

  “Sure.”

  Braden relaxes at my words and leans his head on the back of the couch. Throughout the episode, his thumb continues to rub patterns on my arm, but he doesn’t attempt to shift it any further. It takes half the damn episode, but I finally ease into him, letting my head rest next to his.

  But I can’t relax, because this is weird. Sitting on a couch so close to Braden I can smell his—everything. Him telling my mom how much he likes me. The fact that he dumped Michelle and latched on to me almost instantly. I’m not the girl guys pick over the hot model type. Jesse proved that already.

  I tap my fingers against the armrest, the show falling into background noise. Firm answers. That’s what I need.

  “So you and Jesse are tight, huh?”

  “Hmm?” Braden’s head tilts toward mine, his eyes remaining on the TV.

  “Jesse.”

  “What about him?”

  “You guys close?”

  “We’re tight. Why?” The last word comes out hard, spoken through clenched teeth.

  “Just wondering.” Just wondering if you guys have talked about me. If you know about freshman year. Or if you’re only here because you think I’m an easy lay.

  “So do you get to go to a lot of his parties? Heard they were epic.”

  Braden’s eyes flicker to me. “I don’t have much time to party.”

  I chew on my lower lip. Is he purposefully dancing around the questions? “So…is it just a school friendship thing because you’re both part of the popular crowd?”

  Eyebrows pinched together, Braden snags the remote off the coffee table and pauses the show. “What’s with all the questions about Jesse? You into him or something?” I don’t miss the tensing of his posture or how he slips his arm off my shoulder.

  “No. Of course not. Just curious why you would fall so low from the popular pedestal to hang out with me on a Friday night.”

  “I told you. I like you.”

  “Right…but why?” His eyebrows scrunch in further if that’s even possible. “Come on, don’t look confused. You just broke up with Michelle, queen of East High and you’re best friends with the most popular guy in school. I think I have the right to ask why you’d rather be here with me.”

  “Didn’t we cover this when I talked to your mom?”

  “You mean that BS you spit so she would let me tutor you?”

  “BS?” He leans away from me. “You think I made that up? Damn. How little do you think of me?”

  “I’m confused.” As much as I hate it, it might be time to let a little honesty slip. “I’m not the girl guys choose, you know? I’m the participation trophy. The girl who watches Netflix alone until the damn thing asks if I’m still there. I work too much. I study my ass off. I don’t party.” My hand slices through the air out of frustration. “This is high school. Guys like you don’t pick girls like me.
Not without some ulterior motive.”

  “Is that really how you see yourself?” Braden’s hand slips into my hair in a lightning fast movement. He tugs me forward until we are mere inches apart. “You’re beautiful.” I open my mouth to protest, but he carries on before I can. “You’re the type of girl who cares more about what’s in her head than on her body. You aren’t afraid of a little rain or pizza. There’s never a moment where you don’t put 100 percent into whatever you do, even when it’s yelling at me.”

  His hand fists into my curls, tugging. “You’re beautiful and I’m not just talking about how you look when I say that. Never once did you make fun of me for my dyslexia. And I’ve never heard you speak a bad word about anyone else. You’re patient and kind—again, when you’re not yelling at me.” We both smile. “We might have to work on your dinner etiquette, but no one is perfect.”

  “So…what you’re saying is that you like me? For real. No ulterior motive.” I can’t keep the humor out of my voice. I’ve never had a guy say such nice things about me. If Braden is faking it, then he deserves an Oscar.

  “What I’m saying is that I’m going to kiss you now and there’s a good chance I’ll never want to stop. So if that’s not something you want you better make it clear in the next thirty seconds.”

  For once in my life, I keep my mouth shut. One word from me and I know the moment will be ruined. This boy, this gorgeous boy, blew into my life with the subtlety of a tornado and wormed his way past my walls.

  His intense gaze bores into mine for several agonizing seconds before he leans in. He’s neither forceful nor overly passionate as he plants a featherlight kiss on my lips. One that brings middle school and spin the bottle to mind. But I can feel his restraint as his fist tugs at my curls.

  I get it. He’s scared I’ll get spooked and bolt like I have every other time we’ve spent together.

  Not tonight, buddy.

  My lips part first, molding to his in a way that reminds me of a puzzle piece linking together seamlessly. Full and soft. I’ve never wanted to bite something more in my life. Restraining my urge to devour him whole, I settle my hands on his shoulders and suck his bottom lip between mine, because hey, I’m weak. Warmth spreads through my chest as he responds with a groan. Our tongues move at the same time, both in a hurry to meet.

  He tastes buttery like popcorn.

  The warmth in my chest explodes into a white-hot fire. I know he feels it too because his other hand found its way to my hip, his fingers digging in and tugging me close so that there is no space between us.

  My fingers twist into his hair, messing up that perfect do that has to take him hours to get right. When I tug at the strands, he makes a weird growling noise in the back of his throat that sends shock waves through my entire body.

  Time stops. Don’t judge me. It’s cliché, but damn it, there’s no other way to describe it. I’ve entered my personal Braden bubble and I never want to leave. School? Who cares? Work? Screw it. Jesse? Who’s that?

  All I want is this.

  Braden breaks away from my mouth making me whimper from the loss of contact. But that sadness doesn’t last long because he moves to my neck, planting wet openmouthed kisses all the way down until he reaches the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. The same spot that sends goose bumps down my arm.

  I don’t know how long we spend like this—all hands and mouths and breaths, but when I break away to catch my breath and regulate my heart, the clock above the TV reads half past ten.

  Crap.

  Reluctantly, I shove at Braden’s chest, making him lean away from me. His eyes are dazed. His lips are swollen. His hair is a mess and I’m convinced he’ll never get it back to his normal style ever again. For some reason that thought makes me smile.

  “What’s funny?” He leans in, his lips in search of mine again almost as if they’re magnetic and now that they’ve found their match it’s impossible to keep them apart.

  “Nothing.” I indulge him, letting him get another deep kiss before I once again push him back. “But it’s after curfew. If my mom shows up, you can forget about having a tutor.”

  That’s all it takes to snap him out of it. He sits up and runs a hand through his hair before reaching for his phone to check the time. “Shit.” Jumping up, he stuffs his phone into his pocket and reaches for his jacket. “What are you doing Sunday?”

  “It’s my day off. So…homework?”

  “Or going on an actual date with me where you stay for the whole thing?”

  I pretend to think with my finger tapping my chin. When he lets out a sigh, I give in. “Okay. What time?”

  “Six?”

  “Sounds good.”

  He leans in and plants a soft kiss on my lips. “By the way, I think you should keep this.” He tugs on the collar of the hoodie before standing. “See you Sunday.”

  When the door shuts, I collapse back onto the couch. Holy shit. I spent Friday night making out with Braden freaking DiMarco. And for the first time since before Jesse, I don’t feel like total crap about myself.

  “Where are we going?” I ask as Braden props the door to his SUV open for me. I hope there isn’t a time crunch because my mother talked his ear off for close to an hour. I warned him not to come to the door, but he didn’t listen. Him and his manners or whatever.

  “You’ll see.”

  This time when he says that, I don’t immediately think of a serial killer. Now, it comes off as a nice boy wanting to surprise me.

  Guess now isn’t the time to tell him I hate surprises.

  Once I’m settled, he rounds to the driver’s side and hops in. I’ve been riding on a high since Friday night. Shredder couldn’t even get under my skin yesterday and for once I enjoyed the run with my mom this morning. No clue why I keep joining her. I suppose there is something addicting about it after all.

  Braden pulls away from the curb, his free hand finding mine and tugging it to rest on the center console where he intertwines his fingers with mine and gives my hand a squeeze. “How was work? I tried to stop by, but I couldn’t get a free minute.”

  Free minute? He doesn’t work. In fact, he talks as if he’s always super busy, but he’s never once told me what he does when he’s not at school.

  “It was work. What kept you so busy?”

  “Housework. Homework. Pretty much the worst way to spend a Sunday.”

  “Sounds better than an annoying boss, a friend who won’t stop asking questions about us and hundreds of hungover college students who turned into drunk students as the day went on.”

  “Fun.” He sends me a grin before focusing back on the road. “How many days a week do you work there?”

  “Four. I wish I could do more, but school interferes.”

  “Saving for college?”

  “Uh…yeah.” There’s a slight twinge in my stomach after letting that lie go. I guess my wall isn’t as down as I thought.

  “Where are you applying?” Braden jumps on I-15, the world blurs as he floors it.

  “Probably just here in Utah. I want to stay close to home.” So I can live at home and not waste money on housing.

  “Yeah me too though my dad has been pushing for an out-of-state college. Maybe Cali.”

  Why did my stomach drop when he mentioned moving out of state? “Cali. Super warm.”

  His lips purse. “Yeah, but I would miss the winter. I love the snow.”

  “Best time of year.” Brownie points to him.

  A few minutes and a lot of mindless chatter later, Braden pulls into a parking lot and parks facing Elements. The same restaurant I forced him to take me to.

  “What are we doing here?” Try as I might, I can’t keep the disappointment out of my voice.

  He unbuckles his seat belt and sends me a quizzical look. “You love this place, remember?” Before I can answer, he hops out and rounds the SUV so he can open my door. “Come on, you can show me another disgustingly healthy wrap to eat.”

  I take his hand an
d let him lead me to the storefront even though I want to stomp my foot and refuse to go inside. For one, it’s disgusting like he said. And two, the memory from the last time we were here isn’t great.

  This time of day it’s packed. I don’t spot anyone from school, thank God, but I do spot one of our neighbors. Mr. Nguyen gives me a small wave, his eyes glued to Braden. Pretty sure he’ll run to my mom the second he can. I might have found one of her informants. Damn her and her pleasantries. She’s friends with half, if not more, of our neighborhood.

  “What ya thinking?” Braden asks, oblivious to Mr. Nguyen who is now nudging his wife and pointing at us.

  Let’s hope Braden stays hands-off. Though I can’t lie, the sensation of his hand wrapped around mine is close to how I feel when I hold a warm cup of coffee on a cold morning. I could get used to this.

  “Why don’t we get what we got last time?”

  Braden’s nose wrinkles, but he nods. When it’s our turn, he orders two of the strawberry grossness and takes a number from the cashier. I’m impressed because he paid and signed the receipt without once dropping my hand.

  “I can’t imagine this many people voluntarily eating this stuff,” he whispers as he slides into a booth next to me.

  “Then why did you bring me here if you hate it? You complained the whole time last time.”

  “You like it.” He leans in and gives me a quick peck on the lips. “And I like you.”

  Dang it. Why is he so cute? Going out of his way to take me to a place he hates because he thinks I enjoy grass and sticks. I should have been honest from day one. Now I have to force down the soggy again.

  Or I could try the truth. Maybe we’ll have time to cancel the order and then go get something appetizing to eat.

  “I have a secret.” Braden’s eyebrows shoot up, but he says nothing. “I hate this place.”

  His grin is slow to form, but when it does, I swear it could rival the sun. “I know.” He tugs on my hand and motions to the door with his head. “That’s why I got it to-go. Figured your mom might enjoy it.”

  My mouth drops.

  “What?” He leads me to the counter where one of the workers, a guy in a stained white apron just set a brown bag. “I knew from day one you hated this place. You’re not as good at hiding your feelings on that cute little face of yours as you think you are.”