by Paul, JL
I hadn’t asked for an explanation but she’d obviously felt the need to explain. I didn’t respond, just turned toward Irelyn and Bailey again.
“What have you guys been up to lately?” I asked.
“Just the same old stuff,” Irelyn said, avoiding my eyes. I wanted to press but didn’t feel that it was the right time. Besides, I wasn’t sure if it was my place anymore.
“How are your mom and Tommy doing?” I asked.
“Great,” she said with a smile. “Mom’s dating a really nice guy and Tommy is still taking piano lessons. He’s amazing.”
“I bet he is,” I said. “How are your folks, Bailey?”
“Good,” Bailey said. “Dad complains because I’m living with Collin and not married but Steffi usually chills him out.”
“That’s good,” I said, like an idiot. Why was conversation so hard?
“He’s not as bad as the Newtons, though,” Jessica added with a giggle. “Aunt Sandy is always hinting around that she’d like to see a wedding. She’d love to see both of her sons and her nephew married.”
I couldn’t take much more of Jessica. I wasn’t sure what she’d heard or what she thought, but it was becoming more and more obvious that she wanted me to know that she was Spencer’s girlfriend.
As the band took the stage again, I looked at Spencer. Tall and handsome, he had a way of making everyone laugh. He’d been a good friend to me while he’d been in his on and off relationship with Bailey. When they broke up for the final time, I was the one he’d leaned on – the one he’d confided in. That hadn’t lasted long, though. Either he’d figured out that I had feelings for him or someone else had figured it out and told him. It didn’t matter which. Once my secret was out, Spencer had distanced himself from me.
I stayed for a few more songs before making a big show out of checking my watch and telling the others that I had to go – I had to work in the morning.
“I’m so glad you came,” Irelyn said as she stood to give me a hug.
“Yeah,” Bailey said, hugging me next. “It was good to hang out again.”
“It was,” I said, putting on my jacket. “Let me know what happens with the record label guy.”
“We will,” Irelyn said. “Let’s get together this week.”
“Okay,” I said with a wave. I turned toward the door but my eyes shot toward the bar as I shoved my way through the crowd. I spotted Evan pouring beer into a pitcher. His eyes met mine, his lips curling at the corners, and nodded. I returned the nod and scurried out the door.
Chapter
Two
Saturday mornings at Beans, the coffee shop, are usually my favorite time to work. The people who come in are not so rushed or stressed and can grab a cup of their favorite hot beverage and linger at one of the tables, reading the paper or chatting. The atmosphere is more relaxed and it’s easier to deal with the more difficult customers.
During the late morning lull, I grabbed a rag and a spray bottle full of blue cleaner and tackled the tables. I took my time, making sure to spray and wipe each table down. The sun’s rays streamed through the large windows, blocked only by the lettering which made strange shadows on the floor.
An hour before my shift was over; Evan waltzed through the door, minus Manda, and flashed a charming grin.
“Hey, Morgan,” he said as he rested a hip against the counter. “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” I said. “Plain coffee?”
“Sure,” he said. I quickly poured him a cup and placed it on the counter, holding up a hand before he could pay. “On the house.”
His grin widened. “Nice. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“So,” he said, lifting the lid to blow across the cup. “Did you have a good time last night?”
“Yes. It was fun.”
He nodded as he sipped his coffee. “Have you heard anything about the indie record guy?”
“No,” I said, my heart sinking a bit. No one had called or texted - nothing. “I haven’t spoken to anyone yet. I had to be here early and I’m not supposed to be on my phone.”
“Ah, gotcha,” he said. “Well, I haven’t heard anything, either. Rusty seems to think that they’ll get signed. He loves those guys.”
I smiled. “I do, too. They’re great. And they work really hard.”
Placing his cup on the counter, he leaned next to it. “So, tell me, Morgan. Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No,” I said, eyes wide. “I don’t really have time.”
“Sure you do,” he said as he straightened, his eyes dancing in amusement. “Everyone has time for romance.”
Pulling the napkin dispenser closer, I opened it before ducking beneath the counter to grab a package. I started refilling the dispenser, avoiding Evan’s eyes.
“Don’t be all shy,” he continued. “You’re a beautiful girl – you probably have guys breaking down your door.”
I couldn’t help but to snort. I wasn’t the beautiful one. Bailey and Irelyn were.
“No, I don’t think so,” I said as I shoved more napkins in the dispenser.
My mind flashed to Spencer, standing on the stage, playing his guitar while the spotlight shone on him. Long legs sheathed in denim, topped with a vintage tee, he was the epitome of cute in my eyes – and the only one who could turn my head. Perhaps if I was beautiful, I could turn his. He was unavailable, of course, and I’d have to get over him if I ever wanted to be happy. But until then, I could live in my fantasies.
Evan straightened suddenly and lifted his cup to his lips. Cocking his head, he studied me, eyes narrowed. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Me?” I asked as my hands froze over the dispenser.
“Yes,” he said, hiding a smile. “You.”
“Nothing,” I said with a shrug as I snapped the top of the dispenser and pushed it back to its spot. Closing the napkin package, I shoved it back under the counter.
“Why don’t you hang out with me tonight?” he asked.
“You, huh?” I said, my heart thudding. “And where would we hang out?”
“Wherever,” he said, lifting a shoulder. “Movies, bowling alley, arcade – you name it.”
Furrowing my brow, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Are you asking me on a date, because I’m not in a dating place right now?”
“Not a date,” he said. Sipping his coffee, his eyes bored into mine, waiting for an answer.
“If it’s not a date, then what is it?”
“Hanging out.” Setting his coffee on the counter, he crammed his hands into his front jeans pockets. “Hey, it’s nothing – just something to do.”
“What about Amanda, or whatever her name is?” I asked as I grabbed a clean rag and wiped the counter. “Won’t she get mad?”
He laughed, the sound a deep rumble in his throat. “Manda won’t give a shit.”
“Manda?”
Rolling his eyes, he picked up his cup again. “Her name is Amanda, she just likes Manda better.”
“Oh. Well, isn’t she your girlfriend?”
“No, she’s just Manda.”
Confused, I shook my head, the rag hanging limply from my fingers. “I really have to study tonight. I have an exam next week.”
“So, we’ll hang out in the library.”
Groaning, I tossed the rag into a sink behind me. “You’re impossible.”
“I know. The chicks dig that.”
My eyes widened. “Chicks? Really?”
Holding out his hands, he grinned. “Girls, okay? Er, women. Sorry.”
“Well, this has been fun but I do have to work,” I said, turning my back on him. I retrieved my rag and began to wipe down the machines and work area.
“Sure, Morgan,” he said. “I’ll let you get back to it. Maybe I’ll see you at the library tonight.”
I continued to clean, hoping my silence would clue him in that I would not be looking for him. I didn’t turn back until I heard the door close.
“Darn,” I m
uttered as I bent over the counter, massaging my temple. I was fairly certain that I hadn’t seen the last of him.
***
As I settled into my usual table at the library, I set my bag on the chair next to me and withdrew my laptop. Logging in, I searched for material relative to my exam and began taking notes.
I could have easily studied at home, but I preferred the library. Oftentimes, if I wasn’t able to find certain information online, then I had several reference books at my disposal – not to mention helpful staff.
Twenty minutes into my study session, someone sank into a chair across from me. I looked up, startled, to find Evan’s smug grin.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered, leaning over the table.
“Learning.”
I stifled a groan, grinding my teeth. “Are you a student?”
“I’m a student of life,” he said as he spread his arms wide, that maddening grin still plastered across his face. When I lifted a brow, he dropped his arms, but not his smile. “Fine. Maybe I’m not a student, but the library is open to the public. One never stops learning, you know.”
The urge to smack him was so strong that I had to sit back and place my hands in my lap to control myself. “I really need to study.”
“I got that,” he said as he slid one of my books to his side of the table. “I’m here to help. I’ll quiz you.”
“I don’t need to be quizzed,” I said. “I need to read and take notes.”
“That’s not a problem,” he said, holding the book close to his face with one hand while flipping the pages with the other. “I’ll read aloud and you can take notes on whatever you think is important.”
I clenched my teeth as I clutched the arms of my chair. “This. Is. A. Library.”
“I’m well aware of that,” he said, lifting his eyes from the book. “Wow, this shit is deep.”
“Give me that,” I said, snatching the book out of his hands. “You cannot read aloud in the library. You’ll disturb other people.”
“Fine,” he said as he turned sideways in his chair, wiggling his legs as his eyes scanned the shelves. “I’ll be good.”
“I doubt it,” I muttered under my breath as I found my page in the book and read the next three paragraphs. He continued to fidget, drumming fingers on the table and the back of his chair, humming some weird tune. I tried to ignore it, focusing my brain on the book in front of me, but it was no use.
“Can you stop?” I whispered.
“Huh?” he asked, his face masked in innocence. “Am I bothering you?”
“Very much,” I said.
“So sorry. I’m just bored.”
“Why don’t you find something to do?” I suggested. “Don’t you have any friends that are throwing a party or going to the movies or something?”
Screwing his face up in concentration, he shook his head. “No, no, I don’t think so. Besides, I don’t want to hang out with them.”
“Well, if you’re so bored, then why are you hanging out here?”
“I want to,” he said. “I like the library. It’s a good place to pick up chicks.”
“Chicks,” I sighed, shaking my head.
“Yep. I like the nerdy, brainy type,” he said as a grin spread across his face. He turned the right way, slapping his hands onto the table, palms down. “You, dear Morgan, are the exception.”
Looking at him properly, I tilted my head, crossing my arms across my chest. “I’m the exception? Does that mean that I’m not the nerdy, brainy type or that you don’t like me?”
When his face fell, my heart lifted. Finally, I’d stumped him.
“Nah, that’s not what I meant,” he said, backtracking. “I meant you’re not the nerdy, brainy type.”
“Oh, so, I’m stupid?”
“No,” he groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “You’re smart and beautiful.”
Not that again. Rolling my eyes, I marked my page and shut the book. “I thought you liked hot girls?”
His face lit up. “What red-blooded male doesn’t like hot girls?”
“I’m not a hot girl.”
“No, but you’re beautiful,” he said. “And hot girls are only good for looking at, not much else. Most of the time they know they’re hot and are too in love with themselves to get seriously involved with anyone else.”
I remembered him calling Irelyn and Bailey hot girls – had he meant the same thing about them? If so, he was way off.
“You, Morgan, are a beautiful girl – like a model.”
“Oh, please,” I said as I stood up and began packing my things into my bag. “Now I’ve heard it all.”
“Hey, it’s not a line. You are like a model. You’re tall, thin, and willowy.”
I froze, hand halfway into my bag. “Willowy?”
“Yep,” he said, clearly amused.
Snapping out of my stupor, I finished collecting my things, placing them in my bag. I placed the library books on a nearby cart before putting on my jacket. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m hardly model material.”
“Why do you say that?” he asked, standing.
“For one thing, I’m not tall enough. I’m only five foot six.”
He waved a hand. “Let’s not get technical. It’s not like I’m a model agent dude. I’m just saying that you’re beautiful enough to be in magazines.”
“Well, thank you,” I said as I shouldered my bag. “And this has been…interesting, but I need to get home to finish studying.”
“I’ll walk you,” he said, following me toward the door.
“That’s not necessary,” I said. “I’m not that far away.”
“Oh, but it is necessary,” he said, jogging ahead to open the door. I passed without looking at him. “It’s dark out and you never know what sort of weirdo is lurking about, ready to prey on a helpless female.”
“I’m not helpless,” I said. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“I don’t doubt that,” he said, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. “Humor me, huh?”
The brisk October wind caressed my face, sending a chill through my body, as dried leaves crunched under our shoes. The streets were quiet, although there were a few people walking quickly from building to building, eager to get out of the chilly weather.
“How do I know that you’re not one of those weirdoes?” I asked.
He shrugged. “You don’t know that. All you have is my word.”
I barked out a short laugh. “I don’t know you well enough to take your word. I don’t even know your last name.”
He stopped, compelling me to stop, too. He stuck out his hand. I shook it quickly, meaning to immediately drop my hand, but he held onto it. “Evan Matthew McNew, born twenty-three years ago in Chicago, moved to central Indiana at the ripe old age of thirteen. Did all right in school but didn’t go to college, but I did attend trade school. Currently, I’m working two part time jobs; Mel’s Garage and Rusty’s. Um, no siblings that I know about, but I do have an aunt and uncle. Did I forget anything?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, shaking my hand loose. “Thanks for the synopsis, but I really do need to get home. It’s not far so I think I’ll be fine.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, hands back into his pockets, his shoulders giving a shrug. “Just trying to be a gentleman.”
“Thanks, but, like I said, it’s not necessary,” I said. With a last, little smile, I turned away, walking at a quicker pace, leaving him behind. Not that I really thought he was a weirdo or a pervert or anything like that, but I just wasn’t comfortable with him knowing where I lived. Even though he’d given me a brief family history, I still didn’t know him.
Turning a corner a block away from my apartment, I glanced over my shoulder, making sure he wasn’t following. I quickened my pace, now quite cold, and hurried up the street, cutting through the alley next to Beans. The steps to my apartment were around back and I couldn’t wait to climb them and collapse on my sofa w
ith a cup of hot chocolate.
Dropping my bag on the kitchen table, I removed my jacket, hanging it over a kitchen chair, and reached for the kettle. Before I filled it, I walked into the living room at the front of the apartment, an idea occurring to me. Without turning on a light, I moved the curtain aside just enough to peek at the street below. Sure enough, a figure walked by the store with a familiar gait, hands tucked into the jacket pockets.
Releasing a mixture of sigh and groan, I returned to the kitchen, filling the kettle, and setting it on the stove. As I busied myself with the cocoa fixings, my mind wandered back to the strange encounter with Evan McNew. What was with this guy? Why was he bugging me so badly? And what was all this nonsense with him calling me beautiful?
The kettle whistled, breaking my thoughts into little pieces. I didn’t try to gather them as I poured the hot water into the mug. Stirring the cocoa mix, I emptied my mind of Evan. I had to prepare for my exam and I didn’t need thoughts of that irritating man taking up space.
I carried my mug into the living room, my shoulders relaxing. I loved my little apartment. It was convenient to work and to school, but it also had become my haven.
After I’d moved in, my mother paid me a visit to help decorate. She stayed for a week, scouring department stores and thrift shops until she found exactly what she thought would work best. I was skeptical at first – she’d decorated the family home and it was so stuffy and formal, it was hard to get comfortable. But for my little place, she’d found the cutest, retro furniture for the living room, including a squishy chair that I had placed in front of the huge window that overlooked the street.
The bedroom was more modern. She painted the walls pale blue and hung curtains just a shade darker. The bedspread was a plaid pattern with blues, greens, and purples. The dresser was long and made of oak with a vintage mirror attached.
The bathroom she left off white, with a cranberry curtain and accessories.
For the kitchen, which was small and cozy, she found a square, mahogany table with matching chairs. She purchased yellow cushions for the chairs and yellow placemats for the table. The window over the sink was covered with mini-blinds, a yellow valance above it.
