by Karli Perrin
“As long as you think you made the right decision.”
He nods. “I definitely did.”
Rosalie reappears, this time with the check in her hand. She winks as she passes it to Spencer. “I can’t wait to catch up some more.”
He smiles politely before throwing some bills down. “Are you ready to go?”
I nod and we begin the slow walk over to my apartment. “So why are you still single?”
“Who said that I was single?”
“Oh…I just presumed.”
He chuckles. “I’m saving myself for you.”
“Okay, listen up. If we’re going to be friends, you need to stop with the cheesy lines.”
He begins to walk backwards. “We’re going to be friends?”
“You work at my favorite coffee shop. You’re friends with my best friend. I think it’s inevitable.”
“Friends.” It’s as though he’s testing the word out for the first time, seeing how it feels on his tongue. “Friends…”
“Friends,” I confirm.
“With benefits?”
“See, there you go again.”
“Aww, come on. I’ve already heard your orgasm noises, remember?”
My eyes go wide. “What?”
“Eating your tacos.” He pauses and wiggles his eyebrows up and down. “And in my dreams.”
“Eww.”
“It was good, trust me. Unless you’d rather me show you.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I reply.
“Shame. You really enjoyed it.”
“Stop dreaming about me, perv.”
He chuckles. “It’s beyond my control.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“Yes, I would love to come back to your house for a drink.”
“You’re relentless, aren’t you?”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“So, come on, tell me about your dating history. Why are you single?”
He turns back around when he almost walks into a lamppost. “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?” I gesture for him to carry on. “I guess I’m waiting.”
“For what?”
“My person. I’ll wait forever if I have to.”
“But what if you don’t find her?”
“What if I’ve already found her?” My mind instantly jumps to Rosalie and I’m hit with another wave of jealousy. The perils of being a romance author. “The world works in mysterious ways,” he continues. “I just need to have faith that I’m on the right path.”
“Do you believe in fate?” I ask him.
“No. I believe in free will. Do you?”
“I used to.” Now the only thing I believe in is luck, and that sometimes shitty things happen to good people for absolutely no reason at all. Fate is for the optimists.
We carry on walking in silence until we pass the movie theatre. I stop when I see a poster for Anchorman 3. “Oh, cool. I didn’t know they were making a third movie.”
“It’s pretty awesome.”
“You’ve already seen it?”
He nods. “I went a couple of weeks ago, on opening night.”
“Anchorman is one of my all-time favorites.”
“Well then you’re going to love my cat.”
“Your cat?”
“Yeah. Baxter.”
I giggle. “Baxter is a dog in Anchorman, not a cat.”
“I know, but I’m a cat guy.”
“I can’t picture you with a cat. I just don’t see it.”
He raises one eyebrow. “You can’t imagine me stroking a pussy? Close your eyes and try really hard.”
My cheeks flush as my mind begins to wander to dark and dangerous places. Places where animals don’t even exist. “Okay, so this is why you’re single.”
“Because I enjoy stroking pussies? Surely that would guarantee me a girlfriend.”
“Because you say inappropriate things.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, feigning innocence. “You can meet my cat, if you’d like.”
“That’s a pretty big step in our relationship, Spencer.”
He laughs. “Our relationship?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. We’ve had one date and you’ve already fallen for my charm. It’s the stubble, isn’t it? I knew it was a good look.”
I point over my shoulder. “That was not a date. That was just tacos.”
“It’s never just tacos, Cora. Don’t act like we didn’t bond over that guacamole.”
I stop walking and sigh. “What a shame. Our date has come to an end.” I point at the random building next to me which looks way too posh to be my house. Good one, Cora, very believable. “Well, this is me.”
He chuckles. “This is where you live?”
“Yep.”
“Are you sure about that?”
I have the worst poker face known to man. “Of course I’m sure.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“A few years. What’s with all the questions?”
“I’m just curious. So, what time do you want me to pick you up tomorrow? How does nine sound?” He points at the road. “I’ll be right there.”
Shit. “Oh, um, I thought I’d swing by Sanctum first for my morning coffee.”
“I can bring you one instead.”
“No, it’s fine. I want to see Roxy before I leave.”
He looks like he’s trying his hardest not to laugh. “Okay. So, I’ll pick you up from Sanctum at nine?”
“Sounds good.” We stand in silence for a few seconds just nodding at each other. “Okay, well, see you tomorrow.” I wave at him and slowly climb the steps to the stranger’s house.
“See you tomorrow,” he replies, unmoving.
“You can go now,” I tell him.
“It’s okay. I’ll wait until you’re inside.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He grins. “I want to. Safety first.”
“Just go. You look like a lurker.”
He folds his arms across his chest. “I look like a lurker? Really, Cora?”
“Yes, you do. You don’t have to be all chivalrous and wait for me to get inside. I know Taekwondo.”
“Where are your keys?” he asks.
“In my bag.”
“Then why aren’t you getting them out?”
“I will in a second. Jeez, give me chance.”
“I can’t believe you called me a lurker when you’re the one lurking outside a stranger’s front door.”
I’m about to argue back when I realize there’s no getting out of this one. I mean, I could try the door handle to see if it's unlocked but then what? Oh, hi there, sorry for breaking into your house, which is lovely by the way, but I didn't want my fake date finding out where I actually lived.
Without saying a word, I sigh, turn around, and make the walk of shame down the steps. Spencer chuckles and I hold my hand up when he’s about to say something. “Not another word.”
Five minutes later, he watches as I let myself into my real home.
Chapter Six
“Now you really are a lurker,” I tell him as I open his car door the next morning. “I thought we were meeting at Sanctum?”
He laughs. “I wasn’t sure. I thought you only said that because you didn’t want me to pick you up from your fake house.”
“Well, yeah,” I say as I climb in. “But I also need a coffee. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“I tend to have that effect on women.”
I roll my eyes. “How long have you been waiting here?”
“Not long. About half an hour.”
“Half an hour?”
He shrugs. “I hate being late.”
“You could have waited inside.”
I watch as a slow grin spreads across his face. “Oh, really? It’s good to know that I have an open invitation.”
“That’s not what I said.”
&nbs
p; He pulls away from the curb. “That’s what I heard.”
“What’s with the pink car?” I ask, changing the subject.
The corners of his mouth turn up. “Have you never seen a pink car before?”
“Not driven by a man.”
“That’s very sexist of you.”
“No, it’s just an observation. If anything, it’s sexist of society.”
He shrugs. “I got it for a good price. She’s very reliable.”
“She?”
“Pamela.”
“Pamela the pink car? Now who’s sexist? Why couldn’t it be Peter the pink car?”
“I didn’t choose the name so don’t shoot the messenger. If you have a problem with Pam, take it up with her. Be careful though, she gets revved up easily.”
Even though I hide my smile, I can’t help but play along. “Hmmm, I wouldn’t want it to drive a wedge between us.”
He shrugs. “I’m sure it would only be a little bump in the road.”
“I guess so. I do tend to live my life in the fast lane.”
“It’s exhausting coming up with car puns.”
“Yeah, let’s stop now.”
“Because you can’t think of any more?”
“No. It’s because we sound like huge nerds.”
“And? Don’t tell me you’re in the closet? I’m loud and proud.” There’s a comfortable silence until the next red light when he asks, “So why couldn’t you sleep?”
I can feel the walls coming up. “I just struggle sometimes. I have an over-active imagination, so I find it hard to switch off and when I do, I have the weirdest dreams.”
“You should have called me.” He looks away when the light changes to green.
“Why? Because your voice sends people to sleep?”
“That’s right. It’s so dreamy and relaxing.”
“Don’t you mean boring?”
“Ahhh, I see what you’re doing.” When I don’t reply, he elaborates. “Treat them mean, keep them keen…”
I hold my hands up in surrender. “Busted. Is it working?”
“It is.” His eyes turn dark. “If you carry on, you’ll have me on my knees by the end of the night.”
I swallow hard. “Then I guess I should start being nice to you.”
“What’s up, Cora? Afraid you won’t be able to handle me?”
“No. I’m afraid you won’t be able to handle me.”
He laughs even though I’m not joking. “Well there’s only one way to find out.”
I lean back in my seat and close my eyes, mostly to put an end to the flirting. “You’re trying to imagine it, aren’t you?”
“Nope,” I reply. “I’m tired. Lack of sleep, remember?”
“Oh yeah, your over-active imagination. The one you’re using to picture me naked right now…”
I pretend to yawn but it turns into a real one. “You were right; I should have called you last night. Your jokes are about to send me to sleep.”
He chuckles and we drive the rest of the way in silence.
***
“What are you doing here?” Roxy asks as we walk over to the counter.
“I’ve changed my mind,” I reply. “I’m just going to visit my sister another time.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m not sure I can last five hours with Spencer.”
He smirks. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Get your mind out of the gutter, Cora.
“You know, getting to see your sister,” he adds.
“Cappuccino,” I say to Roxy. “And a couple of brownies to go, please. The biggest ones you’ve got.”
“That’s sweet of you,” Spencer says.
“What are you talking about?”
“Buying me a brownie.”
“Oh, no, they’re both for me. Do you want one?”
He laughs. “Nah, I’m good.”
I raise an eyebrow. What kind of person turns down a free brownie? A psychopath, that’s who. And I’m about to get back into his car and trust him with my life. So who is the real psychopath here? “Can I buy you a drink instead?”
“Are you offering to buy me a drink?”
“Yeah, that’s literally what I just said.”
“I’ll let you buy me a beer tonight.”
“Um, no. I’m offering to buy you a coffee. No beer. No tonight. Coffee. Now.”
“I don’t drink coffee.”
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. “I’m sorry, what? For a second there I thought you said you don’t drink coffee.”
“Yeah, that’s literally what I just said,” he jokes, using my own words against me.
“Okay, okay, but why? How?”
“I don’t like the taste.”
I take it back. He’s the psychopath, not me.
“But you work in a coffee shop!”
“I’m well aware of that.”
“Surely liking coffee is a prerequisite.”
He chuckles. “That’s ridiculous and you know it.”
“Fine. But it’s also ridiculous that you don’t like coffee.”
“I haven’t had a cup in about five years...”
“I’m not sure I can trust you to drive me to L.A. anymore. What if you fall asleep?”
“It doesn’t matter, because you’ll be there to wake me up.” He laughs when I begin to panic. “Cora, I’m joking.”
“What are we joking about?” Roxy asks as she slides my coffee over to me.
I look down and see a little heart with the letter S inside. I raise an eyebrow at her, and she raises one right back. I smile sweetly before picking up a stirrer and destroying all traces of it.
Chapter Seven
Five minutes later, I’m climbing back into Pamela, coffee in hand.
“So…” I say, as he starts up the engine.
He smiles. “So?”
“If you don’t like coffee…what do you like?”
“I like you.”
“You like feeding women lines - got it. What else?”
“It wasn’t a line.”
“But you don’t even know me.”
He glances sideways. “Would you be inside my car right now if I didn’t even know you?”
“You know what I mean. You don’t know me well enough to like me.”
“That’s almost as ridiculous as saying I need to like coffee to work in a coffee shop.”
I shrug. “So what else do you like? And I mean, really like. What have you liked for more than forty-eight hours?”
“Tacos.”
“Boring. I already know that.”
“Okay, how about this one…I like how you say it how it is.”
“Life’s way too short for bullshit.” I realized that eighteen months ago. “What else do you like?”
“Netflix and relax.”
I giggle. “Do you mean Netflix and chill? Jeez, how old are you?”
“No, I mean Netflix and relax. It’s completely different to Netflix and chill.”
“Let me guess…it’s where you watch Netflix and actually relax?”
“Yeah. If somebody wants to chill, it can wait until we’ve finished watching Dexter.”
I shrug. “But sometimes the mood just hits.”
“During Dexter? Have you ever watched it? He kills people. What kind of weirdo wants to have sex during that?”
“You know what I mean. During a different show then.”
“Unless it’s Magic Mike, there’s no excuse.”
“I feel like I’m actually getting to know you now. Keep going. What else do you like? Beer, tacos, Magic Mike…”
“Beer, tacos, Cora.”
“In that order?” I ask, jutting my bottom lip out.
“I’d be happy with those things in any order.”
“Wrong answer,” I tease him. “So, what music do you like?”
I sigh. “This is where I should lie and say Foo Fighters or The Avett Brothers...”
“Oh, wow, this is goin
g to be good.”
He pushes a button on his steering wheel. A few seconds later, Hit Me Baby One More Time starts to play. It’s half-way through the chorus, so he must have been listening to it at some point. “What can I say? Cheesy pop is my jam.”
I burst out laughing. “Why? Just…why?”
“The heart wants what it wants.”
“And the heart wants Britney Spears?”
“No. It wants her music. Our love affair ended in 2007 when she had a quarter-life crisis and shaved her head.”
“Was she an active participant in this love affair or was it one-sided?”
“I’m a gentleman, I don’t kiss and tell.” He smirks. “Tell me, Cora, what does your heart want?”
The song ends and a Shaggy song starts to play. “Well, if I’m being completely honest…I’m a little conflicted right now. I thought my heart was loyal to Fall Out Boy but I’m kind of feeling Shaggy right now.”
He grins and we hardly speak for the next hour.
No. We sing. Badly.
***
“I thought I was a bad singer,” I say, as we pull into a gas station. “But you win.”
“I’ll take it. I never win at anything.” He takes off his seatbelt. “Actually, that’s a lie. I won the best butt award in tenth grade.”
“The best butt award? Was that actually a thing?”
“Of course. I won it by a landslide.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I grew it myself.”
“Well in that case, I take it back. I’m the worst singer. You’re not having two awards, that’s just being greedy.”
He holds his hands up. “Fine. You win. You’re the worst singer. Are you staying here to practice?”
“No, I really need to pee.” I climb out of the car and follow him inside.
“You’re totally checking out my butt, aren’t you?” he asks.
“What? No!” I wasn’t, but now I am. And he was right to win that stupid award.
He glances over his shoulder and catches me looking. “Are we still pretending that we don’t want to rip each other’s clothes off? Because if we are, you need to do a better job at it.” When I ignore him, he leans down and whispers, “Like what you see?”
“Tenth grade was a long time ago, Spencer.”
“Hey! It wasn’t that long ago.”
“You’re in your thirties. It was well over a decade ago. You’re so old.”
“I’m not in my thirties. I’m thirty. Just thirty. I’m on the outskirts, looking in.”
