Under the Same Stars(18)
And, oh god, parking. I spotted a few open street-side spaces here and there, but I wasn’t confident in my parallel-parking abilities. While Austin’s car had an awesome rear backup camera, I had to rely on my own skills, driving my late grandfather’s 1990 Land Rover Defender. It was the coolest car ever, and I felt a huge rush of pride every time someone complimented it. A few people had even offered to buy it from me, right on the spot.
But yes, I couldn’t parallel park.
I wasn’t especially proud of what I ended up doing. Both parking garages were full, so I swung into the spacious lot behind St. Paul’s Church and its school. Only ten or so cars were there. PARISH MEMBERS ONLY, the sign read, and I cringed after cutting the ignition.
But you know parish members, I reassured myself. The Gallants attend mass here, Katie went to elementary school here, and now Austin comes here every Christmas Eve…
Once I’d locked the car, I not-so-subtly speed walked across the parking lot, only stopping to smooth my shirt after I turned left on Moore Street. Do you need advice on what to wear? Katie had texted last night, and even though I knew what to wear (fun pants and a white top, an outfit ingrained in a girl’s brain), I said yes.
Fun pants and a white top, she told me. Hair down with casual makeup.
I wore a pair of high-waisted black jacquard pants embroidered with silver flowers and a cropped off-the-shoulder sweater. I’d weaved my hair into a side braid, and I didn’t need a guide for casual makeup. To me, that was light eyeshadow with mascara, a dusting of blush, and a swipe or two of lip gloss.
You look adorable, Katie’s cousin Paige wrote after I texted the promised selfie to the group. Good luck!
Davis and I were supposed to meet at Crescent Moon Coffee, an artsy café right off Nassau Street. I’d learned he was a junior at a nearby private day school (the bridesmaids wouldn’t tell me which one, for fear I would use that as a stalking tool). Reese also told me she’d sent him a photo of me for recognition purposes. The suitors always know what the Bachelorette looks like before she knows what they look like, Meredith had reminded me. It’s all good!
I told myself I could do this all the way to the coffee shop, but the second I stepped inside, my heart began to quake with nerves and I straight up forgot how to “people.”
My eyes flicked around as I stood frozen in the entrance, taking in the clusters of customers chatting at tables and the assortment of eclectic armchairs and couches. Laptop users occupied the windowfront bar, their oversized mugs long drained but not ready to say goodbye to the free Wi-Fi. He’s not here, I surmised. He’d know if I were here. He would’ve noticed me the moment I walked in…
Madeline Fisher-Michaels, you are so delusional, the host in my head said. It’s a busy-ass coffee shop. Nobody noticed you walk in, and you better move it before someone opens the door and slams into you!
Sure enough, I heard the bell above the door chime behind me several seconds later, so I quickly stepped out of the way and into line to order. I had to do something, right? I didn’t want to stand around and wait for Reese’s cousin to recognize me. How awkward would that be?
Katie had pointed out that today wouldn’t count as a date, but who was she kidding? My palms were starting to sweat. This already felt like a date because this was the closest thing I’d ever had to a date!
There was a handwritten menu on the big blackboard above the coffee bar, and pastries upon pastries tempted everyone behind a glass case. “Hello!” the barista said brightly. “What can I get you?”
“Um…” I quickly scanned the endless menu before settling on their seasonal drink. “A lavender latte, please.”
“Hot or iced?”
“Hot.”
The barista nodded. “What size?”
“Tall,” I said, used to Starbucks lingo. “I mean, small.”
“Great!” The barista input my order into the iPad-resembling register. “That’ll be eight oh five.”
Sadly, I didn’t even blink. Everything was so expensive these days.
“Put it on my tab,” someone said before I could dig out my wallet, and I whipped around to see Marco ?lvarez standing behind me. One corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile, like we shared some kind of secret. “I’ll have a medium chai,” he added. “Iced, and we’ll also take two chocolate chip muffins.” He dropped his voice to a whisper while tapping his debit card against the register PIN pad. “They aren’t the best pastries in town, but they’re good enough.”
Speechless, I couldn’t find my words until he’d guided me over to the pickup area, a gentle hand on my back until I not-so-subtly elbowed him. “What are you doing here?” I finally asked.
“I like to study here,” Marco answered, and it was then I realized that I was looking at a Marco I hadn’t met before. I was used to him walking our school hallways in track pants and soccer hoodies or his soccer uniform. His Ember & Ash attire, even. But no, today, right in front of me, he wore an army-green jacket and white Converse high-tops with what I knew were Lululemon pants. Austin had the same pair.
They looked nice on Marco.
You know, objectively speaking.
“And since when do you wear glasses?” I asked, my brow wrinkling at his rounded tortoiseshell frames.
“Technically since fourth grade,” he said, annoyingly amused. “But I only wore them at home; contacts were much better for soccer.” He stepped forward to grab our order. I hadn’t even noticed his name had been called.