Falling Like Leaves (Bramble Falls, #1)(6)

“You two have fun,” Mom says, mouthing the words be nice at me as Sloane and I head out into the crisp morning air, a welcome reprieve from the hot attic and Mom’s suffocating presence.

For two blocks, Sloane talks incessantly about her best friend, Asher, her mom’s job, the theater camp she attended this summer, and how excited she is for school to start the day after tomorrow—a fact I’m choosing to ignore because it’s nausea-inducing.

Along the way, we walk by several houses where people are sitting on their porch, sipping coffee, and reading the newspaper. All of them seem to know Sloane. Closer to town, we pass the local bookstore and the Bramble Falls florist, where a handwritten sign is already advertising fall flowers.

Finally, we arrive at a teal-colored building located on the corner of Peach Street and Oak Avenue, almost directly across the road from the town square. I don’t remember what was here the last time I was in Bramble Falls, but now a wooden sign with the words THE CAFFEINATED CAT hangs above its door.

Sloane holds the door open for me, and I step into the coffee shop, careful not to let any of the roaming felines out. The blended scent of coffee and sugar rides the air, making my mouth water and perking me up before caffeine has even hit my tongue. The line is six people deep, so I study the chalkboard menu behind the counter while we wait.

Not a pumpkin spice latte in sight.

“What are you getting?” Sloane asks as we step closer to the front of the line, a fat calico cat nuzzling her calf and making circles between her legs.

I sigh. “I have no idea. I don’t—” I’m about to turn to her when my eyes snag on the guy behind the counter. I squint as if it’ll make me believe what I’m seeing. “Sloane, is that…”

There’s no way.

Sloane follows my gaze and smirks. “Cooper Barnett? Yeah. You remember him?”

Of course I remember him.

I remember Sloane introducing us the last time I was here. He declared us best friends the second she left to spend the summer traveling with her dad before he passed away.

For those two short months, I remember us being inseparable.

I remember drinking Capri-Suns and eating Cool Ranch Doritos together at the lake on the outskirts of town, his noodly limbs stretched out on the dock while he rambled on excitedly about the history of confectioners’ sugar or the science behind using salt in bread dough.

I remember racing our bikes down Willow Creek Lane, our shoulders pink and our freckles popping, before he wiped out trying to dodge the only pothole in town.

I remember sneaking into the Bramble Falls drive-in theater on classic-movie night. He couldn’t stop crying at the end of Free Willy.

I remember eating entire boxes of Popsicles just to get to the jokes on the sticks while we swung in the hammock together in Aunt Naomi’s backyard.

And a girl always remembers her first kiss.

But…

“I don’t remember him looking like that,” I say, unable to reconcile the cute, lanky boy I used to know with the specimen standing three people in front of me. “When did he get so…”

“Hot?” she asks with a giggle.

I shrug. “I mean, yeah.”

His once-short brown hair has now grown out in thick waves that curl at the tips of his ears and flop over his forehead, and a cream-colored apron is tied around a tall, fit body. We inch closer, and I notice the smattering of light freckles across his nose that I never appreciated when we were younger. He still has his full cheeks, punctuated by a single dimple, but now they’re accompanied by an angular jawline that adds a hotness to his boyish charm.

In the words of what I imagine might be on one of Aunt Naomi’s coffee mugs: Un-freaking-be-leaf-able.

“He hit a growth spurt sophomore year,” Sloane whispers, pulling me from my trance. “Then he ditched those nerdy round glasses he was always pushing up the bridge of his nose and, if I had to guess, probably started using the school’s weight room.”

The lady in front of us picks up a fluffy white kitten from the floor and moves to the end of the counter. We step forward, and my stomach does a weird little swoop.

Cooper Barnett is wildly beautiful.

“Hey, Sloane,” he says, grinning at her. He glances at me for a split second before opening his mouth to ask Sloane what she wants. But then he does a double take, his smile falling and his amber eyes widening as they fix on me.

How did I forget how stunning his eyes are?

“Hey, Coop,” I say, my lips curling upward into a grin I can’t contain. His jaw flexes, but he says nothing. It occurs to me that maybe he doesn’t remember me. “Ellis Mitchell… Sloane’s cousin.”

I glance at Sloane standing beside me, watching Cooper with a furrowed brow.

“I know who you are, Ellis,” he says, a sharp edge to his voice.

“Oh.” My smile wavers. “Good. It’s been a long time. How have you been?”

“Busy.” He turns back to Sloane. “What can I get for you?”

Um, okay, then.

“I’ll just have a green tea, please,” she says. Then she turns to me, shifting her weight uncomfortably. “What about you, Ellis?”

“Do you happen to have a secret pumpkin spice latte that’s not on the menu?” I offer him my warmest smile, trying to thaw his inexplicably frosty attitude toward me.