But it was an inevitability when it came to Declan. He reminded me of all the ways I had forfeited believing I could meet someone who made me feel seen the way he did. Talking to other people felt like going to turn on a lamp only to realizeit wasn’t plugged in. You expect light, but you’re met with awkward clicking sounds instead. For Declan, that light switch was connected to his emotions for me. And they were pointedly off. So, living in the cottage across from him was not an option. Not a healthy one, at least.
The other road was the one I would take, surely. The one that led to New York City in September. The only one I could emotionally handle. Surviving July and August in Seabrook already felt like an impossible feat.
“Hey.” The sound of a mousy voice squeaks from behind me. “Blair?”
I turn around, latte in hand, to find Harper. Her white apron is tied around her waist, blond braids resting on each shoulder, and spider lashes opened wide with anticipation.
“Yes?” I say, and regret how suspicious I sound.
“Me and some coworkers are going bowling tonight, and I was wondering if you’d want to join?” She twists her hands in front of her, nervous.
I felt like I’d be crushing a six-year-old’s pleas for ice cream if I said no, but I also had zero interest in deepening my ties to anyone here when I’d be gone in two months.
“Uhhh.” I scratch the back of my neck. “Which bowling place?”
“Jonny’s Pints and Pins on Forth Road,” she replies.
“I might need to help my mom tonight, so I’ll let you know,” I say, hoping I can drift away unnoticed after my shift and then apologize tomorrow when I realized I didn’t have her number to tell her I couldn’t make it.
Harper seems unsatisfied with my answer, but a man with jet-black hair walks in, and I excuse myself to take his order. I reach the cash register and look up, but my eyes meet his chest. I have to crank my neck back to meet his eyes, and I mentallyhear a creaky cartoon sound effect to match the movement.Is there an NBA team passing through Seabrook?
The man who wants coffee is wearing a navy button-down, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, and tan Carhartt pants. His style is reminiscent of… Declan. Gosh, I can’t even look at another man without being reminded of him.Craven, fallen being, I think to myself.
“Hi, good morning,” he says, gaze pinned on me for a second longer than I’m used to. Like he’s taking in the totality of my face.
“Good morning,” I reply, and pray that my cheeks aren’t visibly red from someone so attractive perceiving my existence. “What can I get started for you?”
“I’ll do an Americano if it’s not too much of a hassle.” He smiles, and it causes his scruffy cheek to gather into a dimple.
Igiggle.The response is so knee-jerk that I feel betrayed by my own body.
“That is no problem at all, sir. Can I have a name?”
“You sure can. It’s Calvin,” he says like I wanted to know his name for more than a coffee cup.
“Perfect. I’ll have that right out.” I turn the payment screen toward him and hurry to the bar to make his order, willing the warmth to drain from my face.
Harper sidles up beside me as I start pulling the espresso.
“I see you’ve met Calvin,” she whispers not so subtly beside me.
I shoot her my best side-eye, but she laughs in response.
“And he seems to have taken notice of you too.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a professional. I do not fraternize with the customers,” I retort mock sternly.
She leans in further to my side and says, “Well, it looks likehe’s working up the courage to ask you something when you turn around.”
My heart jackhammers.
“Yeah, he probably looks like he’s frothing at the mouth because I’m holding the drink he’s addicted to.”
“Mm-hmm. But he wants to get addicted to youuuu,” Harper singsongs as she prances away from my ear.
I shake my head.
It seems Harper has found her in with me: gossiping about boys. Before this, she’s been as antsy as a chihuahua around me. I shoot her my deadliest glare, and she smiles with both rows of teeth.
