Joel
I’m down by the river, thinking about what happened earlier. Or didn’t happen. It’s hard to say, exactly.
It was strange, when Callie set down my double espresso at the café first thing. Our eyes met, and I felt heat chase a shiver across my skin as I struggled to loosen my gaze.
Irises stippled hazel, like sunlight on sand. Long, carefree hair the color of chestnuts. A complexion of the palest vanilla. And a double-take smile that couldn’t have been for me.
But, apparently, it was.
Callie nodded at Murphy, who was up against my knee enjoying a head scratch. “I hope he’s not pestering you.”
During my now near-daily visits to the café over the past week or so, I’ve formed a pretty strong bond with her dog. “This guy? Oh, no. We have an understanding.”
“You do?”
“Sure. He keeps me company, and I throw him cake crumbs when you’re not looking.”
“Would you like some?” An affable smile. “We have a fresh batch of dream cake just in.”
“Sorry?”
“Thedrømmekage. It’s Danish—it means ‘dream cake.’”
I hated the name. But, let’s face it, that cake was the culinary equivalent of crack. “I would, actually. Thanks.”
She returned almost instantly, setting down an oversized slice on a plate in front of me. “Enjoy.”
Our eyes met again. Once more, I found I couldn’t look away. “Cheers.”
She lingered. Fiddled with her necklace. It was rose gold and delicate, the shape of a swallow in flight. “So, busy day? Are you off to work?”
For the first time in a long while, I felt frustrated that I couldn’t say yes. That I had not one interesting thing to tell her about myself. I’m not even sure why I wanted to, exactly. There was just something about her. The way she moved, the shine of her smile. The chime of her laugh, full and sweet like the scent of spring.
Pull yourself together, Joel.
“I have this theory about you,” she said then.
I thought fleetingly of Melissa, who’s arrived at enough theories about me to pen her own massive, meaningless thesis.
“I think you’re a writer.” Callie indicated my notebook and pen.
Again I had the urge to impress her. Captivate her somehow, say something winning. Unsurprisingly, I fell short. “Just incoherent ramblings, I’m afraid.”
She didn’t seem too disappointed. “So what do you—”
But all at once, from behind us, a customer was trying to get her attention. I turned to see Dot dashing between tables, grimacing apologetically.
Callie smiled. Tipped her head toward the counter. “Well, I’d better...”
It was odd, the urge I had to stretch out my hand as she walked away. To draw her gently back toward me, feel warmed by her presence again.
I trained myself a long time ago not to dwell on passing attractions. But this was solar-plexus level, a feeling I haven’t had for years. Like she’d brought back to life a part of me I thought I’d buried for good.
I left pretty soon after that. Resisted the reflex to glance at her on my way out.
•••
“Joel! Hey, Joel!”
