Of course, that was probably one reason why Lauren had never been one of the Cool Kids. Not back in school, not anywhere she’d worked, and definitely not here.
She resented that about Asa, just like she resented that little pinch he got at the corner of his mouth, like he was always thinking about some inside joke. He didn’t take anything seriously, and that was something Lauren couldn’t stand. She took everything seriously.
“Why are you here?” she asked now, the question coming out more churlish than she’d intended as she slammed the top of the Keurig over the K-cup.
“The meeting?” he said. His eyebrows shot up at her confused frown. “The first of December. Holiday season. The planning meeting. Did you forget?”
She had actually forgotten. Which was totally unlike her. Lauren lived her life with lists and systems and plans. Three months ago, she’d Googled “best skincare routine” and clicked through the results until she found one that was numbered and affordable and easy to follow, and now she did it every morning and night. She updated her Goodreads page religiously, not to leave reviews but just to ensure that she had some kind of record of every book she’d ever read. It annoyed her to get the biannual postcards from the dentist’s office about her next cleaning, because she’d already put a reminder on her Outlook calendar at work to follow up.
“Shit,” Asa said, squinting at her. “Is there a problem with your programming? I knew we’d see the effects of Y2K eventually.”
“I didn’t forget,” Lauren muttered, even though by now it was obvious she had. She’d already hit the button to brew a cup of coffee, but it wasn’t lighting up, so she hit it again. She could hear the churn of the machine as it started to heat the water, but still no coffee. If she was actually a robot like Asa loved to tease her about being, shouldn’t she have more proficiency with the stupid thing?
“And you saw all the extra cars in the parking lot and thought, what?” he continued, ignoring her denial. “Maybe it’s overflow from the Waffle House?”
She hadn’t even noticed the extra cars. She’d been on autopilot, lost in her own thoughts. Scarily, she only had vague impressions of the twenty minutes it took her to get from her apartment to Cold World. She had a volunteer engagement after work, and even though she’d been preparing for it for months, planning for it, now that it was here it still tied her stomach in knots.
“I have—” A lot on my mind, she almost finished, but she didn’t have that kind of relationship with anyone at work. And if she was going to start confiding in someone, it certainly wouldn’t be Asa Williamson. She stabbed the Keurig button again with her finger, mentally urging the machine to start already so she could extricate herself from the awkwardness of this moment.
He set down his own mug on the counter, reaching over her to fiddle with the machine. Not for the first time, Lauren couldn’t help but notice that he smelled good. Like, really good. It was one of life’s true mysteries, because she felt like she’d know his scent anywhere, but she couldn’t quite place what it was. Some mixture of cedar and citrus, not overpowering, never burning her nose like some colognes did. But always present whenever he was nearby, and sometimes she’d catch the tail end of it when she entered a room he’d just been in. She lived in fear that one day he’d catch her inhaling a big whiff whenever he was close, and she’d have to quit her job and move to North Dakota.
“There,” he said as the Keurig whirred to life, dispensing a steady stream of coffee into her mug. As far as she could tell, all he’d done was lift the top and place it back down again. Of course he’d make it look easy.
“Thanks,” she said grudgingly.
He settled back with his coffee. “No problem.”
This might be the longest Lauren had ever spent one-on-one with Asa. They hadn’t exactly hit it off right away, despite his ability to charm his way into friendship with everyone else. Lauren wasn’t even sure of his technical job title—he seemed to do a little bit of everything. She’d seen him working the gift shop with Kiki, serving hot chocolate wearing an apron the same color as his hair, even skating circuits around the rink, making sure everyone was traveling in the right direction and no newer skaters needed help.
And it was Florida, so they often needed help.
She’d started at Cold World only days before the staff holiday party two years ago, which was an awkward time to be the new person. She’d still been reeling from her job interview. It had been pretty standard until Dolores mentioned the need to get Cold World’s books more organized. Somehow, that had set Lauren off into an impassioned speech that, embarrassingly, had brought actual tears to her eyes. When she’d finally come up for air, she thought she’d blown it. She must have seemed unhinged. Instead, to her surprise, Dolores had told her on the spot that the job was hers if she wanted it.