I almost wish I hadn’t.
I’m staring down at where he once stood and repeating the words he said to Zev. “Nothing like Simone,” I whisper to myself.
“See you later, Franny!” Lucca Cruz’s voice filters up to me. He’s standing right below me, about to head inside—right where Cal and Zev once stood.
“Lucca,” I say, and the words are out before I have time to stop them. “Do you know Simone?”
He gives a knowing nod—as if I should know this answer. “We all know Simone.”
“Callum’s…” I draw out, because I don’t have an answer to fill in this blank. I have assumptions.
“Superman’s ex.”
“Right.” I swallow. “I knew that.”
Simone. I am not at all like her—that’s what he said.
“Will you be at our next game, lucky charm?” Lucca asks, shooting two finger guns at me.
I breathe out a tired laugh. “We’ll see,” I say, finger-gunning him right back.
My jaw clenches and my heart patters, replaying Callum’s words in my mind. But then, can I be mad if Callum still has feelings for his ex? He told me upfront he wanted friendship. Nothing more. And this time around, I’m the one who kissed him. He didn’t initiate it.
“Did you say something?” Paul asks. He’s followed me over after giving Matt one of his business cards and talking up a used Subaru they just got on the lot.
“Um.” I swallow. “Nothing.” My face warms with this new information. I can’t help but feel embarrassed at my actions. The team was chanting, and Callum was there smelling like musk and earth, and I swear he smiled at me. Oh, gosh. Not that it’s his fault. I just—in all my remakes, have I ever been that forward?
What is more forward, kissing a man in front of his teammates or convincing a man to break into a closed ice rink to ice skate while recreating a scene from one of your favorite movies? Tony didn’t have any skates, so he slipped and slid around on his tennis shoes until he sprained his ankle, and the authorities asked me never to return to the Frostline Pavilion.
“Fran, did you see our video to the tune of ‘Sabotage’ by the Beastie Boys?” Paul belly laughs and holds out his phone to me once more.
I peer down at the video where I almost became a hood ornament, posted for the world to see, music playing in the background—but I can’t make out any of the words. I onlyhear Callum speaking in my head, telling his friend, “She’s nothing like Simone.”
Saturday morningsat Stacks are the busiest dining day of the week. I have no time to be texting Rosalie. But that’s what I’ve been doing because she was in bed when I got home last night, and she was still in bed when I left for work this morning. She isn’t lazy—state testing is just kicking her butt. I didn’t have time to tell her anything.
Rosalie: I’m going to knee Callum Whitaker right where it counts. I don’t care if he is a professional athlete.
Me: No kneeing. It wasn’t his fault. I kissed him this time. Besides, he was very upfront about just wanting to be friends.
Rosalie: Was he upfront about being stuck on his ex? Ugh. I hate pining.
Me: NO KNEEING. Move on, girl. I’m fine. He has not wounded me.
Rosalie: Who are you, Jane Austen?
Rosalie: Also, I don’t understand why you’re going out with Paul again. You aren’t attracted to the man! Don’t deny it. Plus, he called that reel fun? How is my best friend almost dying to the Beastie Boys fun??
Me: That whole Beastie Boys thing could be a personal joke or something. I told you, he likes that the video is inspiring others. Besides, speaking of Jane Austen, Marianne Dashwood didn’t think Colonel Brandon was anything special at first, either. She needed more time.
Rosalie: Colonel Brandon also didn’t blow off a viral reel that made Marianne uncomfortable.
Ugh. Inspirational or not, that reel does make me uneasy.
“Frances!”
I stuff my phone back into my apron pocket and scurry up to the cook’s window. Sure enough—table two’s order is up. Without one word to Glen, I grab the warm plates and deliver them while the eggs are still steaming hot.
“Can I get you anything else?” I ask the couple, just as the bell above the café door jingles.
