by Alex Rosa
I place the plate in front of her and sneak a glare at Caiden, though he may not know why, but I’m torn away seconds later.
“—This isn’t right,” she says as she points to the whipped cream. The tone feels like a jab, but I shake my reflexive need to be defensive.
“Excuse me?” I ask, taking a large gulp of air, confused by Caiden’s flat stare pinned on her from across the table.
“This pie,” she sneers, and the waitress in me detects her frustration, but I can’t tell if it’s personal or if it really has to do with her pie. “I can’t have whipped cream. Your mom knew how I liked it. I don’t know why I assumed you would.”
Pow.
Why does hearing the word mom from her mouth feel like a form of ammunition. I want to be nice, hell, I even want to care for Kristen’s side in all this, but in that moment I can’t. It’s as if she purposefully nicked my Achilles’ heel.
I stumble a bit, her words knocking me off balance. “Uh—”
“Kristen. That’s enough.” Caiden finally speaks, and I know that tone.
“What?” she says shamelessly through her own defying look.
This argument is surely between the two of them, but why do I feel so heavily involved?
This burn is new. This burn hurts.
I grab her plate and leave.
It’s too much. I decided. I drop off the plate on the counter before running to the back office, collapsing into a chair, needing… needing—I don’t know what I need.
CeeCee enters moments later, and although her flailing arms mean she cares, she only overwhelms me more.
“So, can I at least admit I didn’t know she was coming?”
I shake my head, thrown by the statement, but remember that being the queen of gossip usually involves knowing the whereabouts of your best friend’s ex-boyfriend’s new-ish-but-not-really girlfriend.
“Cee, relax. No need to defend the situation.”
“What was that about?”
“Apparently I don’t know Kristen’s fucking pie order.”
CeeCee can’t seem to hold back the mocking curve to her lip when she hears me curse. Kill me now.
“She mentioned my mom. It felt weird.” I sigh, my head falling into my hands.
“She what?”
I shrug. “It doesn’t matter. It’s stupid. I just wish I didn’t feel like such a stranger in a place that’s supposed to be home. Especially now, since apparently my entire backstory has been hidden away.”
“Stop. It’s not like that. It’s just Kristen. She’s not blind, ya know? It’s hard not to notice when you and Caiden are in the same room.” She lifts an apologetic shoulder before going on. “But let them handle it.”
I stand, shaking my head. “Do me a favor and get the girl a new piece of pie. I think I’m going to take you up on leaving.”
I’m about to move past her, but her guilty grin of gritted teeth stops me.
“Soo… I guess this would be a really bad time for me to mention that Gabe just stopped by to see you?”
“CEE-CEEEE!” I screech.
“Bad timing, I know—I know. I swear I didn’t plan this situation this time.”
“I can’t deal with all this right now. It’s too much. I repeat, TOO MUCH.” The tone of my voice has reached a strange high-pitched squeak that could quite possibly break the sound barrier.
“Do you want me to find a way to get rid of him?”
I untie my apron and throw it at her face. “No. It’s whatever.”
“That’s the spirit. I’ll take care of your tables. I could accidentally drop pie onto Kristen’s lap if you want.”
I laugh, pausing to shoot her a sweet, aw-you-shouldn’t-have pout. “You’d do that for me?”
“How do you people in LA respond, oh yeah—Duh. Of course, I would.”
It’s tempting to accept, but I have to remember that although tensions are high, no one should have to deal with the pain of an erratic heart, Kristen included. Ugh. I wish I didn’t have a conscience. “I’ll have to pass on the pie-spill.”
I wave at her as I trail outside. I try to find a sense of relief in the string of giggles that involuntarily leaves my lips as I attempt to leave the chaos behind. I pull my hair tie free from my hair, running my fingers through the waves before stepping out of the kitchen.
I’m about to glance back at Caiden’s table, but I’m a bit awestruck by Gabe’s smile when he sees me.
Gosh, I want to like that smile. I want to like something new.
From behind his back, he pulls out a single orange wallflower. I was on the verge of smiling, but I falter at the sight of it.
“Hey, Hailey. I remember seeing these flowers in your hair growing up. It only seemed right to bring you one when I passed some on my way here.”
I’d love the gesture if it wasn’t the same type of flower that Caiden would get me in the mornings before school, or days on the lake. Little does Gabe know that Caiden was the one placing the flowers delicately in my hair all those years ago.
I shakily grab it from his hand. “Thank you,” I whisper.
Kristen suddenly rushes blindly past us and out the door without a word. Whatever argument was going on at their table must not have gone well.
My eyes shoot to Caiden, who isn’t rushing after her but power walking toward the door. His shoulder collides with Gabe’s just enough to cause Gabe’s footing to shift.
Although Gabe has said he doesn’t want anything more to do with the drama-filled history anymore, he doesn’t seem to hesitate when it comes to confrontation.
“You got a problem, Anderson?”
I cringe. Caiden almost makes it to the door. He swivels around and shrugs. “Why would I have a problem, Samuels?”
I twist my fingers around the delicate stem of the flower as I watch.
Gabe grins, and there’s a hidden wickedness to it as he tilts his head. “You really want me to say it? Because I will.”
Caiden releases a defeated huff… and I hate it. He knows he can’t argue. He won’t give an answer, just like I wouldn’t give CeeCee one. Instead of darting his eyes to mine, they fall onto the orange flower in my hand.
He shakes his head as a way of responding before thrusting the diner door open to leave.
“Okay, so this wasn’t supposed to go like that,” Gabe says as he turns to me.
When my smile is weaker than I’d like, his falters. “It’s okay,” I reply, trying to recover. “Thank you for the flower. I do love them.”
He presses his lips together into a hard line, his smile curious and probing. “It’s kind of my way of saying sorry. Can I borrow you from work for a moment?”
His tone catches my attention. I want to tell him to take me away for the rest of the day.
“Sure. I was on my way out anyway.”
He extends his hand out to me, and I place mine in his. Although his skin is warm and inviting, it feels foreign, but his firm hold is enough to have me hoping.
He pulls me outside to the parking lot, and there’s one thing I can’t ignore as we cross the tarmac. Caiden and Kristen are continuing their argument next to Caiden’s truck. I don’t dare look, but even fifty feet away, I can hear what they’re saying as I trail behind Gabe.
“There’s something you’re not telling me. I can tell. It’s the way you look at her.”
“It’s not what you think,” Caiden replies, and his frustration is so clear that I can just imagine him tugging on that bottom lip.
“I think it’s exactly what I think. Why won’t you talk to me?”
With one final guttural sigh Caiden replies, “This isn’t working.”
It’s the last thing I hear Caiden say before I hear a truck door and the screeching of tires as they leave the diner parking lot.
“Hailey…”
My head flies up, not realizing I was staring at the ground in concentration as I eavesdropped, forgetting that I was holding Gabe’s hand. I pull it free from his grasp as we make i
t to his dark gray SUV. My eyes widen curiously when I see through the window his vehicle filled to the brim with boxes.
“I know it’s last minute and this makes me sort of a shithead. I’d hate to prove Caiden right in any way—”
“You’re leaving?” I gasp. I’m jealous rather than upset.
He runs a hand through his hair, his smile sad and slight. “Uh… yeah. Last-minute change of plans. My sister has to be on campus at NYU earlier than we thought. I didn’t want to rush the drive, and she has to be there in about a week.”
“When are you leaving?”
He shrugs. “Um, tomorrow.”
My brows scrunch together, and he actually lifts his hand to smooth out my forehead. I fight a smile. “I didn’t plan any of this,” he explains. “I also didn’t plan on you coming into town and me being given this opportunity to try and win your heart. But let’s be honest here, Hailey, that heart is behind a fortress.”
“Is not!” I bark too defensively, and even I can’t help but laugh at hearing my tone.
He tuts comically and leans forward. “Kiss me, then.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t remember you being this confident in high school.”
“I’m kind of under a time crunch here, Hailey.”
My lips twitch as I stare at his mouth anxiously. “You kiss me.”
“As long as you say so.”
He doesn’t hesitate. He leans in that little bit to press his lips to mine. I allow his rough possession, and I feel terrible that I can feel his need to convince me. It’s in his strokes. They tell me to give him a chance.
When Gabe pulls his lips from mine, we’re both smiling, but it’s his tiny huff that has the corner of my mouth twitching comically.
“Nothing?” he asks.
“Almost,” I confess.
“Maybe I should try again?” He presses his lips against mine one more time, and I can’t stop laughing as I peel myself away, pressing a palm against his firm chest. Our chortles wrap around each other next to the SUV that will whisk him away soon.
“Gabriel Samuels! You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”
“I’ll admit, I knew I didn’t have a chance, but I figured I had to try. At least I can say I kissed Hailey Elwood.”
“Is that a thing? Because I promise you it isn’t.”
“In this town it is, trust me.”
I roll my eyes, and he tugs at my arm playfully. “But Hailey, if you’re ever in New York, I want you to call me. I’m serious.” I grin at his cajoling tone, which causes his confidence to falter in a chuckle, as if he catches himself. “I mean, you never know. Maybe we’d have a chance in a different state.”
“It’s possible. How about we agree to be friends?”
He releases a long breath. “Okay, but I can’t promise I won’t try again someday.”
I shrug. “By the time you see me, I hope you’ve found someone else. Someone who deserves you. I’m kind of a mess right now.”
He tweaks a brow. “Can I speak openly as a friend then?”
“If you must,” I reply, knowing exactly what’s coming.
“It’s Caiden, isn’t it?”
Knowing Gabe will be hitting the road and onto a new path that probably won’t be crossing mine anytime soon, I say, “It’s lots of things. Caiden is just a variable my heart can’t seem to shake.”
“Write about it maybe?” He laughs.
“I tried!” I retort, as we share one final moment before we hug and say our goodbyes.
Oh God, I tried. I tried so damn hard.
Chapter Eleven
I slam my notebook shut, needing to take a breather. My hand hurts from scribbling all evening. I could use my laptop, but it always feels more cathartic putting pen to paper.
Sometimes the words you have in your head are harder to get out than you expect. Also, it’s hard to write a work of fiction when the words that are fighting to escape tell a story you lived; a story your heart guided; but a story your mind decided. How is it possible to write the next book, when the first one had a beginning, middle, and end, yet this one has yet to begin at all? I shake my head. I don’t want it to be about me. I don’t want it to be about the guy who made me choose, and I don’t want it to be about the choices I made. Yet here I am, picking up the pieces right where the story left off.
Today provided for a lot of literary material, though I don’t exactly know what I’m writing or where it’s going. Who am I kidding? When I really break it down, today was a disaster, and maybe those many pages of notes reflect that. I’m hopeful that chaos can come off as beautiful.
I just wish the tornado that is my life would pass on through, or let’s hope it whisks me away to Oz soon because I’m not sure how much more my sanity can take. The yellow brick road sounds a lot more appealing than PineCrest right about now.
Caiden’s argument with his girlfriend is still ringing in my head, and I’m trying not to give it any clout. His white lies are not my problem, no matter how much they affect that beating life force inside my chest. I just hate that I’m the white lie.
Meow.
I roll my eyes at the sound. I’m one glass of wine into my night and not sure how much more patience I can muster this evening.
I examine my half-full glass, or half-empty glass, depending on your perspective. I’d rather not admit my current disposition.
Personally, I think I deserve a medal. I waited until well after sunset before doing anything with myself, which means drinking. It’s the most appropriate thing I’ve done so far with my day. That, and saying my farewells to Gabe, who managed to escape town before me.
I try not to think of his phone number nestled sweetly in my phone, or the text message he sent when he hit the state line with his sister.
Meoooow.
I can only ignore that sound for so long before it transitions into a ghostlike shriek. I know from experience. I gulp down the last bit from my glass before placing it on the mantel and strolling to the screen door.
Soot, my furry love child, sits perched and perfect as he watches me approach, and if I’d commit completely to my insanity, I’d say his eyebrow is tweaked in such a way as to imply, “Excuse me human, I’m waiting…”
Wait, do cats even have eyebrows?
Someone admit me to an asylum, stat.
“C’mon, you rascal,” I utter as I pull the door open.
Soot scurries inside and is quick to rub against my bare leg before strutting through the foyer. Even he can’t soothe the itching unease that riddles my entire body.
I pull in a deep breath as I watch him make his way around the room. He almost seems more at home than me, and I try not to be jealous of a cat.
