The other staff member on shift leaves, leaving Carmen alone to hold down the café side of Last Word. The business sits in a beautiful old three-story rowhome, with the first floor used as a comfortable and spacious coffee shop, while the top two floors are filled with books.
My heart sinks a bit in my chest. Even if I did build up the courage to try to talk to her again, this obviously isn’t the right time, with her being on shift alone. She’ll be busier than normal, and therefore no doubt grumpier than normal. Not ideal for sparking a conversation.
I let a swoosh of air out through my nostrils in a silent sigh and try to focus on the conversation my friends are having.
“Veikko, I’m going to nominate you for the honor,” Felix is saying.
The Finn lifts a skeptical eyebrow at our goalie. “Of what?”
Felix grins and pushes his mug across the table. “Of being the one who gets to refill my drink.”
Veikko levels Felix with a flat look, but the sight of Felix’s empty mug makes a sense of opportunity spring in my chest.
My hand snaps to his cup. “I’ll get it.” The words push out of my lips with way too much eagerness, and it doesn’t take any time at all for the guys to put two and two together.
A chorus of wry chuckles and shit-eating smirks is directed at me, but I’m on my feet and approaching the order counter before any of the guys can throw out some wiseass remark, which I’m sure they all have at the tips of their tongues. Well, other thanVeikko. Our hyper-literal Finn isn’t the wisecracking type, and he doesn’t really have a good handle on humor or sarcasm.
Honestly, I should be proud of myself for my transparent, borderline pathetic eagerness to interact with Carmen. Just a couple months ago, I was afraid to make eye contact with her, and the guys had to practically—sometimes literally—push me just to utter a few words to her.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a tongue-tied fool every time we interact. But the important thing is, I’m not afraid to come off as a tongue-tied fool anymore. One day, before long, my persistence in trying to get to know her, even just a little bit, might pay off.
My heart starts to get erratic in my chest as I get closer to the counter. Carmen is behind it, her head bent low to look at a piece of paper on a clipboard. Maybe an inventory list or something.
I set Felix’s cup on the counter. Carmen doesn’t lift her head at the sound of the clatter of the ceramic mug and saucer against the wooden countertop.
“Hi,” I say. I wince internally. I can tell the word comes out strained and high-pitched.
A low hum of half-acknowledgment rumbles from Carmen, who still doesn’t look up. Is it strange that the sound makes my dick twitch? Probably.
“Manning the fort alone today, huh?”
Ugh.Manning the fort? I sound like a suburban dad embarrassing his kids by being too chatty with the staff. I really have a knack for figuring out the least-cool way to express myself around the one girl I’m interested in.
Finally, she looks up, an eyebrow quirked. She slowly turns her head from side to side, scanning the room. “Uh, yeah. Looks like it,” she deadpans sarcastically, the inflection in her voice practically shouting the word,Duh.
Fuck. She’s so cute when she’s being mean to me.
I can feel the tips of my ears warming as I look at her. She’s so damn pretty. The smooth, olive hue of her skin. The pale pink of her full lips. The rich brown of her eyes.
I open my mouth to say something else, but it’s like my tongue is a block of wood. I have no idea what to say.
This happens a lot around Carmen.
It’s ironic, because there are so many things I’d love to ask her. I want to know her favorite song, her favorite books, her hobbies, where she lived before she came here, whether she’s a student at Brumehill College already or if she’s starting classes next semester. If we went on a date, I’d never run out of conversation topics.
But those aren’t the kind of conversations you have when you’re casually exchanging a few words at a café. When it comes to making small talk, I keep coming up blank.
“Uhhh …” my voice box suddenly kicks into gear as I’m searching for words. Carmen blinks slowly, leveling me with an impatient gaze. Shit, I better think of something to say before I look even more ridiculous. “It’s supposed to snow soon. Do you like snow?”
A long beat of silence stretches out. I’m used to two-hundred-plus-pound hockey players loaded with heavy gear speeding toward me, intent on nothing but smashing into me and laying me out on the ice. I face that down without flinching. But waiting to see how Carmen takes my feeble attempt at conversation has my nerves fraying.
She tilts a shoulder. “Yeah, I do.”
My heart leaps in my chest. A hum of excitement fires through me.
She likes the snow.
I know something about her. I asked her a personal question, and she answered it. This is a breakthrough.
