I shouldn’t feel a twinge of disappointment, but I do.
“Anything else?” she asks tentatively.
Because, like a dumbass, I’m still staring at her. I shift over to the glass case. “I could use an apple streusel.”
I’ll have to do an extra ten minutes on the sleds tomorrow to pay for that, but what the hell. We just won the championship. I have three weeks until spring ball starts. If I want to eat a piece of cake, this is the time.
“We make it fresh every day.” She recites the line with enough boredom to convey she’s tired of saying it. As she reaches inside the glass case with a pair of tongs and picks out the biggest slice, she asks, “Would you like it warmed up?”
“I don’t know, will I?” The words slide out, husky and provocative, and totally unintended.
Her eyes widen. “Ah, most people do.” She shoots me an irritated look and ducks around to heat up my cake while I feel like a total idiot. Not since sixth grade have I been so unpolished with a girl.
My phone buzzes.
Hammer: Where are u? The chicks at the Gas Station are so hot tonight. It’s like winter doesn’t exist for them. God bless band-aid dresses.
Me: Bandage.
Hammer: Same thing. Where are u?! Do you think the Christmas break makes these Western girls hotter? I don’t remember them being so fine last semester.
Me: How much have u had to drink? It’s only 8.
Hammer: Where are u?
I sigh. If I don’t answer him, he’ll probably run out of the Gas Station and start yelling my name like the guy who keeps yelling “Stella!” from that movie my mom loves so much. Huh. I wonder if that’s why Coach named his daughter that. I give myself a mental head slap for falling down that particular rabbit hole and punch in a response to Hammer.
Me: Brew place. Striking out.
Hammer: Noooooo.
Hopefully, Hammer’s drinking with a friend tonight.
My phone vibrates again but this time the screen displays the number fifty-five. It’s Masters. Damn, I’m going to miss that bastard when he leaves school at the end of this year.
Masters: Hammer texted me. Sounds like you need help.
I roll my eyes. What’d Hammer say?
Masters: Screenshotted the convo he could fit on one screen.
Me: Hammer’s shocked to find out that there are women outside the Gas Station. Worse, they have the word no in their vocabulary.
Masters: Situation appears dire. Look around. Do you see any adults?
I look up at Lucy, who’s talking to her co-worker and actively avoiding me. I think that’s a good sign.
Me: My ball size indicates I’m the adultest thing here.
The microwave dings, and she slides the streusel out. That’s not a good sign. I no longer have an excuse to loiter here at the counter. I point to the first thing I see. “I’ll take one of those, too.”
“It’s coffee cake. This version is made with actual coffee.” I don’t even have to look at her to know her expression is hovering between this guy is an idiot and when is he going to take his shit and go back to his table.
“Yeah, give me a big piece.”
She clearly thinks I’m short-changed in the big head. No clue what she thinks of me otherwise.
Me: I haven’t been rejected this hard since I tried to block the punt in that game against OSU last semester.
Masters: My wife says rejection is good for you. Makes you mentally tough.
Me: You love saying that phrase “my wife.”
Masters: You bet your fat ass I do.
Me: You don’t think it’s completely strange that you’re 21 and acting like a Taylor Swift song?
Masters: Bro, sorry you feel left out. Stop by later and I’ll give you a hug.
Me: Fuck off.
Masters: I have MY WIFE to do that for me. Thanks, though. Hug still stands. I’ll even let you smell me. MY WIFE says I smell delicious.
Me: I’ve smelled you before, which is why I’m not sure how you convinced Ellie to marry you. She must have defective olfactory senses.
Masters: Me and MY defective WIFE will be getting it on tonight. While u have only Rosie Palm.
Me: Don’t worry. I get plenty of variety. Left-hand Laura sometimes steps in.
Masters: Heard you were out with Josie Weeks. Be careful. She eats little linebackers like you for breakfast.
And the fact that I don’t even want to make a sexually charged comeback tells me exactly how I feel about Josie. Hope she doesn’t mind being just study partners.
“Here’s your apple streusel and your coffee cake.”
I tuck my phone back into my pocket. Lucy’s cheeks are back to a normal color, and her smile is one that says any future flirtations from me are about as welcome as a nighttime visit from a spider.
“You ever going to use that phone number?”
“I already did.” She tips her head down toward the end of the counter. “You can pick up your cider down there.”
I open my mouth to say something extremely witty when her male co-worker starts shouting out my phone number. So that’s what she wrote on the cup. The entire coffee house looks up at the skinny, hipster dude with his hair gelled so immaculately he might actually be a Ken doll come to life. Lucy spares me a glance under her eyelashes, and I can’t help but laugh.
I lean forward. “I like that you have it memorized.”
She pinkens, and I walk back to Josie’s table, laden with goodies and the sweet knowledge I actually won a tiny round against the formidable Lucy Watson.