“Last time I saw you, it was so…” He trailed off, making big eyes while holding his hands out on each side of his head as if to intimate how huge my hair had been.
Of course. There it was.
When I’d met him at the airport, my hair had still been like Mia Thermopolis’s at the beginning of The Princess Diaries : long, black, frizzy, and out of control. High school had happened, thank God, and now I had a shoulder-length bob that I flat-ironed until it was smooth.
But it was so him to remember and mention just how bad it’d been.
“Here you go,” said the concession dude, handing over my snacks while I handed over the money. Finally. I didn’t want to spend another minute talking to Mr. Nothing.
I turned and gave him a smile. “Well, that’s me—until next time, I guess.”
“Sure.”
I walked away, and just as I was about to open the door to the theater with my elbow, I heard, “Hey. Glasses.”
I turned around. “Yeah?”
He had a serious expression on his face, his dark eyes lacking the devious twinkle that’d been there every time I’d ever looked at him. He asked me, “How many solo flights have you taken since we met?”
I swallowed and hated him a tiny bit at that moment for reminding me. Mr. Nothing had totally been right; I’d flown to Fairbanks—alone—four times since the split. I was definitely a member of the custody kids now, a club I’d never wanted to join. “Four.”
He gave a nod, and it felt like something passed between us before he said, “Later, Glasses.”
“Yeah,” I said, clearing my throat before muttering under my breath, “God, I hope not.”
CHAPTER FIVE Charlie
I watched her go and wondered what the hell was wrong with me.
She was an uptight weirdo that I’d been stuck with on a flight a couple of years ago, yet for some reason, it’d been good to see her. What was that about? She seemed just as high-maintenance as before, just as easy to rattle, yet I was somehow disappointed when she walked away.
I pictured the crinkle of irritation I continuously brought to her forehead and realized that, shit—I knew what it was.
She was an open book.
Yes, she was a stranger, but for some reason, when I looked at her, I could just tell what she was thinking. Most of it was annoying and in desperate need of a shake-up, but I liked the lack of a firewall around her thoughts.
Of course, that was probably because my inner circle consisted of multiple people who were heavy into mind games. There was my mom, in an eternal battle with herself over Who to Piss Off—Kids or Boyfriend; my dad, who no longer battled at all but simply took sides with his new wife no matter what （while spinning his decisions as “good parenting”）; my sister, who loved all of these new players in our life but tried to hide it from me because she knew I did not.
Add Becca to that—I never had a clue what she was thinking—and it made sense why Glasses’s open face was so fucking refreshing.
“Can I help you?”
I looked away from the door she’d disappeared through and back at the snack dude.
“Ah, yeah. Two popcorns, please.” I paid for the snacks, and as I waited for them, my phone buzzed.
Bec: Do you want to go to Kyle’s after this? Apparently he’s having people over.
I didn’t know how to respond to that.
Did I want to go to Kyle’s?
Yes and also fuck no.
Kyle was cool and his house was always a good time; on a normal night I’d be all about it. But after the promposal, I kind of wanted to be alone with Bec. It felt like something big had happened with us, and I wasn’t ready to move on from it.
Fuck. It was embarrassing, how sappy she made me.
It still felt like a trap, like our “us” was going to eventually implode, but God help me, I was happy enough with her to consider the possibility that I might’ve been wrong.
Perhaps all relationships weren’t doomed to fail.
I grabbed the popcorn and headed for the theater, wondering what Hall Monitor would think about that little gem of a thought. She’d raise that stubborn chin and feel like she’d won some sort of point, which would absolutely make me say something about her weird boots just to piss her off.
The boots were actually hot, but I’d rather die than say that to her.
But it didn’t matter.
No way was I ever going to see that girl again.
CHAPTER SIX PRESENT DAY
Bailey
“This is seriously unhealthy.”
“I know,” I said to Nekesa, swishing my straw in my Frappuccino and staring at the Starbucks entrance from our vantage point in the back of the coffee shop. “But I just have to see.”
I wasn’t sure why, but I needed to know.
Zack, my ex, used to pick me up every Saturday morning because he said he liked sharing a coffee with me before the day got started. Every single Saturday, no matter what, he whisked me away for Frappuccino and conversation.
It was kind of our thing. Smiles and caffeine in the early morning light.
Just us.
So now that he and Kelsie Kirchner were “official,” I wondered if he did the same for her. Deep down, I knew the answer was no, because I truly did believe it was exclusive to us as a couple, but something inside me just couldn’t let it go.
Which was why Nekesa and I were camped out at the back table at Starbucks.
“I get it,” Nekesa said, but I knew she didn’t. She was in a perfect relationship with the perfect guy—how could she possibly understand the compulsion to see if one’s ex was déjà-vu-ing with their new girlfriend? “But it’s been a couple months, Bay. And you’re too good for him. Don’t you think you should stop dwelling on what Zack is doing?”
“I’m not dwelling on what he’s doing,” I explained, even though I knew she was probably right. “I’m just curious.”
“I should’ve gotten a sandwich.” Nekesa sighed and said, “I’m starving. Why didn’t I get a sandwich? They have a glass case full of food, and all I got was a tall Flat White. What the hell was I thinking?”
“I don’t know,” I said, opening Instagram on my phone. I’d posted a new edit last night, so naturally I had to check notifications every five minutes.
“I should go get—”
“No,” I interrupted, setting down my phone and grabbing her arm in a panicked whisper. “If he comes in, I don’t want him to see us.”
“Why? It’s not that weird that we’d be at Starbucks,” she said, rolling her eyes and shaking off my hand. “Millions of people go to Starbucks, Bay. Ordering a breakfast sandwich is not remotely suspicious.”
“But it is when you’re my best friend and this is our Starbucks.”
“This is our Starbucks?” she asked, her dark eyebrows scrunching together. God, she had the best eyebrows.
“Not ‘ours’ as in yours and mine,” I said, “but ‘ours’ as in his and mine.”
“Dude.” Her eyes narrowed and she said, “Is there anywhere you think of as yours and mine?”
I kept playing with my straw as I thought about it for a minute. With us, it wasn’t so much if there was a place that was ours but more so which place was the most ours. I looked at her and said, “Definitely the dollar store in Springfield.”