by Ally Hayes
“Ah, back for more.”
Cute Guy was beside me, stirring sugar into his cup. Those baby blue eyes distracted me and almost made me lose my nerve, but I smiled with confidence.
“It’s me one, lids zero, so far.” I snapped on the top with ease this time and lifted the cup as if it were a trophy. “I’m on a streak now.”
He laughed. “Some people get all the talent.” He resumed his humming as he walked toward the door to face the cold morning air.
I appreciated his dry, sarcastic tone and was happy I made progress. I turned up my car’s digital radio after discovering a decent station broadcasting actual music, instead of celebrity gossip banter. Not until I parked and cut the engine did I realize I was humming.
Bree was not there to greet me, and I actually felt a little disappointed. Had my status as shiny new toy worn off? I opened my office door to begin what I hoped would be a productive second day. By nine-thirty, I’d read only one paragraph of a new client’s profile. Instead of being productive, I was the opposite, unless scribbling one-liners for a stranger at a coffee shop counted.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Cute Coffee Shop Guy. Friendly, cheerful, and attractive—didn’t those attributes check all the boxes in the guy department? I knew he beat all the duds I’d been around for the last five years, but what could I tell from the three sentences we’d muttered in the past twenty-four hours? Still, it felt fun to have a crush.
“Earth to Andi.”
A familiar voice pulled me down from the clouds. “Oh, wow busted,” I said to Bree, pushing back in my chair. “I was really lost in thought there.”
She remained in my doorway, wagging her pointer finger. “That was no work blank-out, you were thinking about a guy.”
“No.” I sounded unconvincing, even to myself.
“I’d say nice try, but that was pathetic.”
I gave in and laughed. “I’ll tell you over lunch?”
“Better. Meet you outside at twelve-thirty.” She pivoted on her wedged heels and sashayed out.
Over another limp salad, I related the very little I knew about Cute Coffee Shop Guy. She hung on to every word as if his outfit and my infatuation was very vital information. I sounded and felt like a fourteen-year-old girl, but I kind of liked the rush of attraction I hadn’t felt in years.
She clapped her hands rapidly. “A challenge, I love it! Now, we just have to think up reasons to talk to him and learn his name. I’m totally helping you. This will be fun.”
Fun? How? My new friend’s delighted expression encouraged me to let down my guard. Sure, why couldn’t this be fun? I forced a smile in return matching her enthusiasm.
Chapter Two
My first lunch meeting as Accounts Director was on Wednesday, sparing me any reprimand Bree prepared to deliver over salads for my lack of progress with Coffee Shop Guy. I saw him again in the morning, but he was leaving as I was arriving—not an opportune time for introductions. Still, he held the door for me and told me to have a great day.
If only he knew the impact his words had at making that happen.
At two-thirty, several faint pings sounded from my desk drawer. I’d like to say I’m professional enough to ignore my personal phone at work, but I immediately retrieved it and checked the screen. Bree initiated a group conversation. Hers was the only name listed, the other contacts appeared as numbers. I tapped the message bubble opening the application and watched the exchange unfold.
Bree—Drinks Friday? 7 @ Jake’s
860-555-1325—Absolutely! Abbie’s phone died, I’ll tell her
860-555-0489—Wouldn’t miss
860-555-1516—Can’t. Paper due Mon :(
Bree—Aren’t U done yet Mags?
860-555-1516—Never
860-555-4535—Not sure yet, will lyk
Me—Thx. Sounds like fun
860-555-0489—Who’s the RI number?
Bree—Andi, she’s new at our office. Say hi everyone!
860-555-1325—Hi Andi, C U Fri
860-555-0489—ditto
860-555-4535—Welcome
860-555-9229—Hi there, catch u on the later end
Bree—W/Sam?
860-555-9229—Hope so, will C
860-555-2080—Can I go Maggie?
860-555-1516—LOL! Permission granted
A minute passed without further comments, so I assumed the conversation was over. The thought of joining this group of established friends intimidated me, but what was my alternative? I had to meet new people, and here was the chance. The first night might be awkward, but I told myself venturing out was a vital part of the start-over plan. Plus, Bree was acting as my self-appointed ambassador. I should consider myself lucky and quit worrying.
On my way home, I stopped at the grocery store. I’d yet to shop in Hartford, living off the convenience store provisions and the freezer meals my mother had sent. Passing through the automatic doors, I was accosted by Cupid. A Mylar Cupid balloon had broken free from the florist department and the rush of air from the door sent it flying into my face. I batted away the arrow-wielding cherub like it was an angry bee.
Once disentangled from the balloon, I was assaulted in earnest by Valentine’s Day. Gigantic advertisements announcing the holiday, which was still five weeks away, were displayed virtually everywhere. The bakery department featured heart-shaped cookies with red and pink frosting, the card aisle was a sea of red, and a singing card must have been left open as a fading, distorted, rendition of Love Me Do droned on. I sped through, hunting for cereal. My biggest mistake occurred in the candy aisle, ending up there accidentally, being unfamiliar with the store’s layout. Realizing my blunder, I zipped my cart over one aisle but was blocked by a family of six picking out boxed valentines, the kind to hand out in classrooms. I thought the purchase premature, but as a kid I remembered being eager to pick out my favorite characters early too.
While stuck behind the family, I couldn’t help browsing the offerings. I didn’t recognize the majority of the cartoon characters, only the old standbys and the timeless comic book super-heroes who had come back into popularity. Then something caught my eye I did recognize and remembered well. My mouth watered, remembering the sugary treat.
Candy Hearts.
I used to love their fun sayings and crunchy sweetness. I remembered sorting and trading the boxes back in grade school with my friends, but I hadn’t thought about them in a long time. Why would I think about such a juvenile pleasure? I inspected a package containing six small boxes, the size designed to distribute. Next to them were bags of large hearts by another manufacturer with different sayings I’d never seen before. I was curious and my sugar tooth was aching, but somehow I resisted and pushed my cart to the cereal aisle for granola without succumbing to the hearts.
Back in the warmth of my apartment, I was delighted to discover my cable had been activated. I spent the night playing with my new remote, navigating the menu and setting up the DVR. I finally settled on a show I watched semi-regularly, a dancing competition I got hooked on back in college. During the commercial breaks, the Valentine’s Day reminders began again.
“Don’t forget your sweetie this Valentine’s Day,” an online florist said.
“Come into Fay’s Jewelers now to see our exclusive sweetheart collection.”
“The Valentine clearance sale begins this weekend,” announced a mustached, used car salesman.
Ugh. Even my own home wasn’t safe from the Valentine’s Day onslaught. I selected the “record all episodes” option for my program so I could fast forward through the ads in the future. I didn’t need more reminders I would be alone, again, on Valentine’s Day.
Actually, that’s not entirely true. I wasn’t alone the past few years on Valentine’s Day. I was busy with people and activities. We had dinner, chocolates, and cards. I babysat my brother’s twins so he and his wife could go out for the evening.
I wondered if they would stay in this year or pay a real babysitter so th
ey could continue the tradition I started and supported months after the babies were born. The first time was a genuine offer. They were new, tired parents, and I was just out of college and unattached. The following year, they asked, and I was once again free so I agreed. From then on, me babysitting on Valentine’s Day was just assumed. They assumed I had no life and I assumed they needed me.
Now released from my annual obligation, what would I do? Homesickness emerged for the first time since I’d arrived in Hartford. I suddenly wished I was back in Providence and knew for certain my plans for Valentine’s Day. Sophie and Parker were a sure thing. Now nothing was a certainty.
Chapter Three
Day four of Operation Meet Cute Coffee Shop Guy started off rather poorly. I promised myself to make significant progress that day, but arriving three minutes later than usual set me back. Caution was my excuse. I drove slowly over the black ice to the coffee shop. Encouraged at the sight of what I thought to be his car parked next to an open spot, I pulled mine in beside the miniature electric model. I almost wiped out on the sidewalk in my rush to get inside, delaying me further.
He was already two people ahead of me in line. Only his shoes were visible, and the back of his coat which was unfortunately long that day.
As I advanced in the ordering line, I saw him pouring his sugar. “Large, black, coffee to go,” I said in haste to catch up.
“Pardon?”
Repeating my order coherently cost me precious seconds. I accepted my change and heard the chime of the door announcing his exit. I slumped a hip against the counter. Another chance to make contact was gone.
That night I set my alarm to wake me ten minutes earlier the next morning to ensure I wouldn’t miss him again. I planned to report this effort to Bree who would hopefully praise me.
I got my coffee and lid, but he still hadn’t arrived so I stepped back in line for a scone. After seven minutes of stalling with my phone, I accepted his absence. Friday was off to a bad start. I’d have to wait until Monday to catch a glimpse of Cute Coffee Shop Guy again.
I consoled myself remembering my weekend-going-out plans that night. Sure, I was a bit nervous about meeting new people, but a night in a bar beat a night home with my DVR. At least I hoped so.
My mood improved at the office. I was getting familiar with the daily routine and my accounts. Bree informed me she and a couple of the other girls often took lunch at their desks on Fridays so they could leave by four thirty. The option sounded appealing, though I doubted it was available to me as a director. Anyway, I hadn’t brought a lunch, and without an alternative, I braved a cold wind walking to the salad place alone.
Smashing bits of candy in a silly, yet addicting, game on my phone occupied me until I heard the text alert chime.
860-555-4535—Sorry gang. Had to drive out to a client in crisis. Not back til Sun.
860-555-1325—You’re such a hot commodity
Bree—A hot something
860-555-0489—Hot Mess!!!
860-555-9229—Don’t have too much fun tonight with ur “client”
860-555-4535—Ha! If I get lucky they’ll spring for a pizza
860-555-9229—Well, if I get lucky tonight…
Bree—We know what you’ll get Josh
860-555-4535—GTG. Sorry not to meet u Andi, next time!
I was surprised he or she addressed me directly. I was thankful, but couldn’t think of something clever to say in time to express my gratitude. But the lively banter gave me hope Bree’s friends would be a decent bunch.
Back at the office, I was tempted to ask Bree who the person was, but I refrained, to play it safe. If her friend was a guy, then I was willing to bet she would get involved; because I had her pegged as the meddling type. I would proceed with caution until proven wrong. I changed the 9229 number in my contacts to read Josh and hoped I’d have a few more figured out by night’s end.
A good portion of the staff left early and the office became eerily quiet. I held out until five then raced home so I could relax and have a quick bite to eat before changing for the evening. Bree offered to pick me up so I wouldn’t have to face a group of new people alone. Grateful that worry was taken off my hands, I turned my attention to choosing an outfit for the night. I settled on a long, burgundy, slouchy cardigan over a black tank paired with gray patterned leggings and boots. The combination made me feel both stylish and comfortable.
At seven, my doorbell rang for the first time, the piercing shrill caused me to jump, adding to my already anxious state.
“Ready to go?” Bree asked from the narrow hallway outside my apartment.
I couldn’t help but inspect Bree’s outfit of skinny jeans and shearling booties beneath her long coat. I was relieved she looked casual too. I waved my arms toward the family room behind me. “I’d invite you in, but I’m still drowning in a sea of boxes.”
“No worries, next time. Let’s head straight there to get a table. Jake’s Gastro Pub is only a three-block walk if you’re up for it. Alec dropped me off.” She pulled a chunky knit hat from her pocket and pulled it down over her curls.
After swapping out my light trench for a heavier coat, we hit the sidewalk at a brisk pace against the night air. I was relieved to reach the bar moments later and feel my fingers again. I smoothed down my hair while following Bree to the center of the room.
A lone guy sat at one of two tables that had been pushed together. He quickly got to his feet to greet us, gentleman style when we reached him.
Bree motioned back and forth between he and I. “Alec, Andi. Andi, Alec.” She kissed Alec and sat next to him.
I chose a stool across the wooden table. He was good looking in a buttoned-up, serious kind of way. His hairline was receding, but he wasn’t compensating for it with facial hair as so many guys my age were lately.
We said hello at the same time and laughed, each telling the other to go ahead. The mutual awkwardness made me feel at ease and ready to meet the next set of people heading our way.
Clare, a secretary employed at our firm, approached and introduced her roommate, Abbie. I’d met Clare briefly on Wednesday, but she worked on the opposite side of the office, and we didn’t run into each other very often. Clare was cute and short, and Abbie was a tall redhead. They both looked a few years younger than me and were very friendly and outgoing without being loud or obnoxious.
Ethan arrived next, waving to the whole table. “Hi guys. Hi Andi, nice to meet you. I would’ve been here earlier, but I brought dinner to Maggie.” He shrugged out of his leather bomber jacket. “When she gets in a study zone, she might not eat at all or, even worse, binges on energy drinks and candy to keep going—even though as a second-year medical student she knows she needs protein. I brought her a salmon salad, and then I left a chocolate bar and a diet soda on her desk on my way out.”
“That’s love.” Bree elbowed Alec.
“Well, someday she’ll be taking care of all of us, or our kids if she goes into pediatrics,” Alec said.
“No talk of getting old and having kids tonight.” Abbie stuck her fingers in her ears. “Andi will think we’re boring.”
I laughed politely and thought of the irony. Without this new group, I’d be bored all alone in my apartment. I was glad to be out amongst people who were potential friends.
By my calculations of the group chat, the only two left were Josh, who said he was coming later, and the guy or girl who had to leave town. Shedding my heavy coat, I ordered a craft beer and employed all the tricks I knew to remember names. Thankfully, they were an energetic, talkative group. I was instantly comfortable amongst them and enjoyed learning about their jobs, hometowns, and colleges in response to my questions.
“Your turn,” Abbie announced when the second round of drinks arrived.
I straightened in my wooden stool in preparation for having the spotlight turned on me. “Oh, well, nothing earth shattering to divulge. I grew up in Rhode Island, graduated from Providence College, busted my butt at a bi
g firm while studying for my CPA then landed the job at Pearse three years ago. This opportunity helped me move up internally. The transition has been fantastic so far.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Nope.” I lightly combed my fingers through my bangs, aware of their gazes.
“Ex-boyfriend?”
I gave a dramatic eye roll. “Not even.”
“Hit the big three-o yet?”
“Next July.” I took a big gulp of my beer, hoping to divert attention.
“I’m only twenty-seven,” Clare spoke up. “But next month is Abbie’s turn. Bree still has a whole year to go.”
“Or so she says!” Abbie raised her pint glass, tipping it toward Bree.
“Twenty-nine forever.” Bree clinked Abbie’s glass, then mine.
A decent, local band started playing at nine, but by ten-thirty I was fading and glad when Bree suggested we walk back to my apartment. Alec drove to the bar and switched to water earlier in the evening, but he was now talking to a guy I hadn’t met yet.
“You girls can go ahead. I’ll pick you up in about twenty minutes, Bree,” Alec said. “Josh just got here so I’ll hang with him and settle up the tab.”
“Sounds good, Babe.” Bree reached for her coat.
Josh gave Bree a peck on the cheek then turned to me. “Sorry I’m so late. I didn’t mean to miss meeting you, Andi. Sam is being elusive—again.”
“No worries, Josh. It’s nice to put a face with a phone number. I hope Sam shows up.”
“Thanks. We’ll see.” He shrugged. “I’ll be earlier next time, I promise. Stay warm on your walk home.”
I thanked him again and left wondering if Sam was a guy or a girl. I couldn’t discern from the way Josh spoke of their unpredictable relationship.
On the chilly walk to my place, Bree asked if I’d had fun.
I lowered my scarf to answer her coherently. “Absolutely. I appreciate you including me.”
“Of course! Sorry the guy pool was shallow tonight. You may have figured out Josh is gay, and you already know Ethan and Alec are off the market. Maybe Garrett can make it next time and bring some friends.” She elbowed me. “Or, you could make contact with Cute Coffee Shop Guy this week.”
