by Kate Benson
I dig through my bag, grateful to find the book I started on the flight up still nestled in the same spot and quietly hope the tables don’t fill up before I can grab a quiet spot in the corner. I’ve got my eye on one and when it’s my turn to step up to the counter, I’m feeling pretty confident in my chances of buying a few hours of peace.
“Hey chick,” I start, smiling warmly across the counter at Brooke, one of my classmates from school. “I didn’t know you were working today.”
“Hey,” she smiles back, the exhaustion in her expression matching mine. “Yeah, I didn’t, either, but my dad asked me to come in and help,” she admits with a shrug. “When did you get in?”
“Last night,” I reply. “Marissa’s at the cabin making tons of noise, so I’m here seeking refuge.”
“Ah!” she smirks, nodding in understanding. “Well, mi casa es su casa,” she winks. “Whatcha having?”
“Just a vanilla latte, I think,” I answer, thanking her when she passes it over the bar a moment later.
I wave my goodbyes and hold the warm cup in my hand, smiling to myself as I sneak to the quiet back corner I’d been watching from the line. I reach for my book and settle in, the first sip of my coffee as delicious as I’d hoped. I settle into the oversized armchair, internally sighing at the way I’m able to sink into the soft cushion. I’m curling up when I hear the hushed whispers from my right at the table across from mine.
“Well, what do you want me to do, Kim?” the handsome stranger asks through the line, his voice low in an attempt at discretion. “Yeah, I know what I said, but I also have to work. You knew that when you asked me to come with you.” Trouble in paradise? I wonder, quickly admonishing myself both for my internal snark and nosy eavesdropping habits. It’s always been one of my least favorite personal qualities. While it comes in handy, being able to always come up with some kind of sarcastic remark, what this guy is going through is none of my business. I make the mental note to concentrate harder on my own affairs and not so much on everyone else’s in the New Year and redirect my eyes back to the paperback I’m holding in front of me. “Besides, you’re with your sisters. Why can’t you go shopping with them like you’d planned or something? You know I don’t like shit like that anyway,” he offers. Why are you still listening? I ask myself, rolling my eyes at my own judgement. You did say New Years. It’s still December. You aren’t breaking any resolutions yet. “Please don’t start this with me again,” he sighs at the same time I do, albeit for different reasons completely. “You know what I’m doing. According to you, it’s the same thing I’m always doing. Remember?”
Obviously, that little voice sounds off in my head again. This guy is going through a real crisis. You’re just sitting alone in a coffee shop arguing with yourself like a lunatic.
Oh, my God.
“I just need a couple of hours and I’ll be on my way back. We can go get dinner or something if you want, okay?” he promises, leaning back in his seat once more. “Okay, then we don’t have to. Whatever you want to do is fine with me. I’m just trying to be nice.”
After a couple more minutes, he hangs up and I do my best to act like I wasn’t just listening in but am quickly called out when his eyes move to mine.
“Sorry about that,” he offers quietly, sending my cheeks ablaze.
“No worries,” I reply, waving him off as nonchalantly as I possibly can. Holy crap, that is one tasty dish. “I’m not even sure what you mean really.”
“Okay,” he smirks, as sure of the lie as I am, but gracious enough to not call me out on it. I move my eyes away from his, their blue shade captivating me silently. I pull my book back up close to my chest, the words just registering when I hear his deep voice once more. “That’s a really good book.”
“Yeah,” I agree, smiling at his words as I meet his gaze once more. “It’s one of my favorites. I’ve probably read it at least ten times.”
“Yeah?” he asks, surprised when I nod my confirmation. “It’s kind of crazy to think it’s actually about his cocaine addiction, huh?”
“What?” I ask, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. “No, it isn’t. It’s about a crazy reader,” I argue, pointing to the synopsis on the back of the book. “Says so right here.”
“Well, the story is, yeah,” he agrees, probably stifling an eye roll at my smartass, Captain Obvious response. “But he admitted in an interview not long ago that the character was a metaphor for his cocaine habit,” he says, leaning back against the wall behind his chair. “His ‘greatest fan’ or something like that.”
I stare back at him blankly for a moment, my mind reeling as I replay the books key scenes, his words making total sense.
“Holy shit,” I gasp, glancing down at the book for a moment in surprise, something deep inside me stirring as his deep chuckle reverberates around us.
“It’s pretty trippy when you think of it like that, right?” he replies, his wide smile revealing dimples that warm me in ways this vanilla latte only wishes it was capable of. I nod my reply and after another moment of shock, shake my head clear and focus on him again.
“I’ve read all his books and never knew that before. That’s unbelievable!” I admit. “I’m totally going to read this story differently now.”
“Hopefully I didn’t ruin it for you,” he offers.
“I don’t think you could ruin any of his books for me,” I admit with a smile of my own, discreetly admiring his broad frame as it rests gently against the seat. Gotta love a hot guy who reads, I think, my cheeks heating once more. I clear my throat as I recall the conversation I’d just been caught spying on. The one who almost certainly has what seems to be a very overbearing and clingy girlfriend if his half of that conversation is any indication. “You just um… you’ve shifted my perspective a bit is all.”
I don’t miss the double edge to my words, but silently hope he does as my insides begin to swirl with nerves.
“Sometimes that’s a good thing,” he says, his smile still warm as I answer him with a nod.
“Yeah, sometimes,” I confess, the sight of those dimples still peeking through making me long to trace them with my pinky. Girlfriend, my mind blazes, icing my thoughts immediately. “Anyway, thanks a lot.”
“Sure,” he replies politely, clearly not struggling internally like I am right now. “Enjoy your book.”
I nod and move my eyes from his as he begins concentrating on his laptop, the conversation between us likely one he’s forgotten instantly.
I know I need to wipe it from my mind just as quickly. He was just being polite, nothing in our exchange signaling otherwise, rightly so.
Still, as he stands to leave an hour later and gives me a friendly wave, I can’t help but hope it’s not the last I see of him.
Chapter Five
Abby
The next morning, I’m woken similarly to the first and I make my way down the stairs in silent contempt for all things fitness. Marissa is bent and twisted in some kind of horrific position over her bright pink yoga mat, her eyes slipping open to find me gawking at her in offense.
How the hell do you stay up until three in the morning watching slasher films with your sister and wake up with enough energy to bend like that?
“Stop looking at me like that,” she insists, narrowing her eyes. “You’re fucking with my chi, dude.”
“Sorry,” I smirk at her words as I move toward the hook holding my coat beside the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Coffee,” I explain, bending to tighten the laces on my boots before I face her again.
“I got us some coffee last night before we started slasher-palooza,” she replies, twisting once more into an even more complicated position with the instructor on the television. “What? Is my coffee not good enough for you?”
“Of course, that’s not it,” I chuckle. “No, I just want to finish my book and I know you’ve got your own thing going on in here.”
“You could join me, you know?” she
says accusingly.
“And you could join me,” I counter, making her stick out her tongue.
“Touche,” she sighs, twisting once more. “Wanna grab lunch later?”
“Yes, I do,” I answer. “I’ll call you in a little bit.”
“Okay, I love you.”
“Love you, too,” I blow her a kiss before pulling my sunglasses on. “Namaste, dork.”
***
I arrive at the coffee shop a few minutes later, giving Brooke a friendly wave when I see her working in the background. Although the amount of people outside on the small and festive streets had made me worry the shop would be just as busy, if not busier, than it had been yesterday, I’m surprised to find there are only a few patrons staying inside once they get their orders. Surely, they’re shopping for all their last-minute gifts since Christmas is only a few short days away.
Thank God I don’t have to worry about crap like that, I think to myself. When Marissa and I gave up celebrating Christmas and everything with it, commercialized gifts were one of the first things to go. We still get each other something small every year, something that just says, ‘hey, you. You’re my person and I love you,’ but it’s never over the top. In fact, nine times out of ten, for me anyway, it’s something that couldn’t come from a store at all. Our gifts may be small in monetary value, things that no one else on the planet would want or even consider, but every gift we’ve given each other comes from the heart and silently shouts how much we love and cherish the sisterly bond we’ve shared our entire lives.
If I’m going to celebrate anything, it’ll be that.
I’m happy to find my spot from yesterday is empty again and as I settle into the oversized chair that had claimed my morning the day before, I can’t stop the sigh of relief that slips from my lips.
“So, we meet again?”
I glance to my right, a smile immediately taking control of my lips before I can even fully process the interaction.
Helloooo, Dimples.
My cheeks heat when the words almost slip out of their own accord and I thank all the powers that are and ever will be that I’ve at least got enough self-control to stop asinine things like that from leaving my mouth… well, usually. Okay, sometimes.
“Hey,” I greet him. “How are you?”
“I’m good, thanks,” he replies, reaching for the cup in front of him, the steam still leaving it telling me he’s not been here long, either. “How are you doing?” he asks. “Did you finish your book?”
“No, I still have about a hundred pages left,” I explain, pulling a nod from him. “I only brought this and one other of his with me, though. I’ll have to figure something else out for the rest of the week.”
“Do you only read horror?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I read everything, I just tend to stick to these around the holidays.”
I don’t miss the look of amusement that slips over his features at my words. I’ve seen it quite often before.
“So, Christmas really brings out the inner psycho in you, huh?” he chuckles, making me blush.
“Well, I guess if you want to put that spin on it…” I start, laughing along with him when my expression shifts. “I mean, what am I supposed to read?”
“Hey, you read whatever you like,” he puts his hands up in mock defense, another chuckle leaving his full lips. There are those dimples again. “I’m not judging you, I just don’t think I’ve ever met a girl who reads slasher books to get into the holiday spirit.”
I’m about to confess my dread and contempt for all things St. Nick when his words cut me off.
“It’s the best day of the whole year, though, so whatever gets you there.”
“What is?” I ask, my brain working overtime with lack of caffeine. “Tuesday?”
“No,” he laughs, this time from his belly. “I was talking about Christmas.”
“Oh,” I smirk, slightly embarrassed at my own thoughts. “Yeah, sure.”
“Don’t you agree?” he asks, making me bite the inside of my cheek to force any other answer than what comes naturally.
I’m about to say fuck it and just be truthful, but one look at his dark eyebrows crinkling together, seemingly in concern for the well-being of my very soul makes me think better of it. Something about the way he’s looking at me makes it painfully obvious that my honest words of hatred and contempt for the week ahead would destroy him.
Dex
Despite the long hours I’ve been working, and the way Kim keeps blowing up my phone, I’m surprised how much I’ve enjoyed spending the morning talking to a random stranger. I don’t know her name; in my head, I’ve been calling her Slash due to her odd preference in holiday reading material, but she seems like a cool enough girl.
She’s definitely not like any of the other people I’ve run into around Cringle Cove. In fact, she’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before anywhere.
The longer I spend with her, the better that proves to be.
This morning when I left the cabin I’ve been staying in with Kim and her family, I wasn’t feeling very great about the way my week has been going and even worse about where it was headed. Between the extra hours I’m putting in and the seemingly never-ending arguments I’ve been having with Kim, I’m not sure I’ve been this stressed. However, the easy chit chat I’ve shared with Slash has helped me forget all the trivial shit I was worried about when I left this morning. It’s still there, I know that much, but at least for the bulk of my morning, I’m able to relax a little and work in the comfort of what’s becoming one of my favorite spots in Cringle Cove.
I haven’t been here in years, much longer than I’d like to admit if I’m honest. When Kim’s family said they’d be coming here for the holidays and invited me to join them, I can’t deny how excited I was to know I’d be coming back.
When I was young, and my parents were still together, we came here every single year. We did the typical touristy things like going up to Santa’s workshop, Christmas caroling in the square, carriage rides with Henry and marveling at the lights and décor. The town never failed to grow more and more magical with each passing year.
Their marriage didn’t last and as a result, our visits to Cringle Cove slowly weaned off until we stopped coming altogether. However, I’m convinced that coming to this place when I was young was where my obsession with the holiday got started in the first place. I’ll never forget the magic I felt in the streets, the lights twinkling off the snow and the overall giddiness that surrounded me every year as Christmas approached. Add in the nostalgia for those simple days I shared with my parents back then and it has easily become my favorite time of year. Even back then and as the years have passed, despite not having been back, those memories are something I’ve treasured every year until I could return.
I was worried when Kim and I approached the familiar mountains that would lead us here that it may have lost some of it’s magic, or worse, I’d have lost some of mine, but those fears were all for nothing. I think maybe a part of me was sure that I’d built it up too much, that the wonder would have faded off much like the feelings I had for Kim when we first got together. The moment I got my first glimpse of Main Street, though, the feelings and the emotion all came crashing back. Well, for Cringle Cove, anyway. For the first time in nearly a decade, I felt like I was that little boy again and I was finally on my way back to a simpler time.
I felt like I was back home.
Sadly, the feeling didn’t last very long.
Despite the promise I made to Kim on the way out of the city, a tainted feeling of discontent has been thickly consuming us despite our breathtaking surroundings. I’ve kept my word and not breathed a word about our broken relationship to anyone, least of all her family. Yet, it’s hard to imagine that none of them have caught on to the hushed whispers, the low-key arguments we’d had in both the guest room and around every corner of that cabin even in just our first night here.
As it stands, it already feels li
ke it’s going to be the longest week of my life.
Kim’s a nice girl. She’s beautiful, athletic, crazy smart and witty. She has a decent personality and we share a few common interests. On paper, it seems like a reasonable fit, something we can make work should we choose to. For the weeks leading up to the conversation that had been our demise, I couldn’t help thinking though, should we already have to try this hard to make things work? I always thought, and maybe this is naïve, that the beginning of a relationship was the easy part. With Kim, that was true for the first couple of weeks, but even that early on, I recognized that she just wasn’t the girl I thought she was.
I tried convincing myself to wait it out, telling myself that I’m not one of those assholes who dumps a nice enough girl just before Christmas. However, the closer we got to this week away with her family, the more obvious our fate became to me and the more wrong it felt to string her along. I knew, I know now that both of us did, that the end of us had been looming over us for some time. I’d attempted to rip the band-aide off, walk away with as little debris hanging over both of us, but the deeper I get into this promise the more daunting it begins to feel.
As I think over my situation, I can’t help but release a low sigh from my chest. Slash glances up, the sound leaving me louder than I thought it would be and instead of addressing it, I return her small smile and watch her return to her book, my eyes moving back to the screen in front of me.
That was easy.
Why can’t things be that easy with everyone you meet?
Chapter Six
Abby
“So, who’s this guy you’ve been having coffee with?” Marissa asks from the other side of the table, making my movements stop as my eyes move up to hers.
We just settled in at a small booth next to the window and Main Street Diner, one of our favorite places in Cringle Cove.
