Myheart kicks into overdrive even before I turn to follow Nelle’sline of sight. So few things have gone my way lately, why shouldthis be any different? Whywouldn’tLeland Levesque be standing in the entrance ofCravings, talking to Marisol?
When Marisol walksaway, Leland glances around the café. The double take he does whenhe sees me would be comical if I didn’t feel as if I was about togo into cardiac arrest. The way he smiles at me, soft and sweet andfamiliar, doesn’t help. Mouth dry and heart in my throat, I murmura garbled ‘Be right back’ to Nelle, and bolt in Leland’sdirection.
“Running into you twice after not seeing you for years?” hesays when I’m within ear shot. “This appears to be my luckynight.”
“Youmay be singing a different tune in a minute,” I tellhim.
“Iseverything okay? You look a little…flushed.”
That’s likely hisnice way of saying I’m beet red and stress sweating. I shoot aquick look over my shoulder and, as I do, Nelle rises from herseat, eyes narrowed on us. I whirl back to face Leland, grippingthe sleeve of his lightweight jacket and leaning in close. Hisbrows lift in a mixture of surprise and confusion, but he doesn’tseem put off by my proximity. I can work with that.
“I needyou to do me the world’s biggest favor and play along right now,” Iwhisper. “I’ll owe yousobig, and I promise to explain later.”
He’s about torespond when Nelle approaches. Her gaze immediately homes in onwhere I’m still clutching Leland’s sleeve.
“Lookat you two lovebirds,” she says.
Leland’s eyesremain locked on mine for a couple of beats, his brows pinchedslightly. His attention shifts to Nelle and he says, “Stella andI—”
“Aren’texactly lovebirds,” I say quickly, cutting him off. “We’ve onlyjust started dating.”
The silence thatfollows seems to envelope the entire room. I can no longer hear theclinking of dishware or the laughter from the group of crafters.What was I thinking? This always works so well for people in booksand movies. Leland would never purposely throw me under the bus,but if he doesn’t catch on and play along, Nelle’s never going tolet this go. She clearly already sees me as the same loser shethought I was in high school, and now she’ll think I’m even morepathetic. I’ll have to spend the rest of my days hiding out inEvie’s condo and—
“Right,” Leland says, covering my hand that’s now turned into aclaw on his arm. With that one word, my senses return, and I startbreathing again. “Still new, but going strong. When I returned totown and found out Stella was back too, it seemed like kismet. Imissed my chance to ask her out in high school, so there was no wayI was going to pass up the opportunity again.”
Oh, he’s good. Notonly is he playing along, he’s really selling it. Call me petty,but the way Nelle’s eyebrows have disappeared under her bangs makesme want to do a victory dance around Cravings.
Nellemust realize her mouth is hanging open slightly because she snapsit shut and forces a smile. “Well, how nice for you two. Now youabsolutelyhavetocome to the reunion. I’m sure I’m not the only one who would loveto hear more about how you two got together.” She checks the fancyrose gold smartwatch on her wrist, then rearranges her purse strapon her shoulder. “I have to run, but I’ll see you both soon. Noexcuses!”
With a littlefinger wave, Nelle bustles past us. Leland and I remain where weare, neither of us moving or speaking. Finally, I release my deathgrip on his arm and slip my hand from under his. “Can I buy you adrink?”
Leland’s smilespreads slowly until it overtakes his whole face, lighting his eyesand making them crinkle in the corners. “I’ll get the drinks.Consider it a thank-you for the best entertainment I’ve had in along time.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Leland places ourdrinks on the table—another hot chocolate for me and a cappuccinofor him—and then holds up a finger for me to wait while he returnsto the front counter.
In hisabsence, I ponder what to tell him. There’s no explanation I canthink of that doesn’t make me seem pitiful and somewhat desperate.Okay, alotdesperate. I suppose I could laugh the whole thing off and sayit was a joke meant to get a rise out of Nelle…
Leland slides intothe seat across from me and sets a plate of chocolate chip cookiesin the middle of the table. I stare at them as memories flood mymind. When I finally look at Leland, he’s smilinggently.
“Noslushies?” I say faintly.
His expression ispart pleased, part relieved, like he’s glad I got the inside joke.As if I could ever forget.
“Noslushies and no jukebox,” he says. “These cookies are a milliontimes better than anything they served in the high school caf,though.”
During my secondsemester of grade eleven, I had a free period after lunch. Beforemy accident, I always spent free periods in the library, but itbegan to feel too isolated. The quiet and solitude gave me too muchtime to think, and my thoughts weren’t very pleasant in those days.And so, I started hanging out in the cafeteria. There were alwaysother students around, plus there was this amazing old jukebox thatpeople were always feeding quarters into and choosing songs.Another bonus was the fact I could get something to eat there—itwas closed to meals by that time of day, but they had baked goods,fruit, and drink machines available all day—and food was a sourceof comfort for me at that time.
Leland saw mesitting alone one day when he was passing through with some of hisbasketball teammates. Since he was my brother’s best friend, we’dknown each other for a few years, although we’d never had more thanbrief conversations, and always with Wesley around. When Lelandsmiled and nodded in my direction, one of his friends elbowed himand laughed as he muttered something under his breath. I missedmost of it, but caught the ‘loser fat girl who used to be pretty’part. My cheeks had flamed with anger and embarrassment.
A few minuteslater, Leland appeared at my table and plopped down on the benchacross from me, setting a plate of cafeteria cookies between us.When he asked if I wanted to share, I thought it was a trap of somesort; I pictured his friends lurking nearby, ready to pop out andlaugh at me. Leland’s eyes were friendly and open, though, andthere was something about him that made me certain I could trusthim.
After that, Lelandappeared at my table at least a couple times a week, and alwayswith something from the cafeteria—baked goods, a plate of nachossmothered in bright orange cheese, a pair of slushies from one ofthe machines. Sometimes we would sit in silence, but most of thetime we talked. It was always about surface things—classassignments, the newest episode of the show we were both watching,or what our plans were for the weekend. He would ask me what myfavorite songs were and then see if the jukebox hadthem.
Leland nudges theplate of cookies toward me now, drawing me back to the present. Itake one, resisting the urge to stuff it in my mouth. I expectLeland will start firing questions at any moment.
“How doyou like being back in Bellevue?” he asks. “And being back at thesame time as Wes? I bet your parents are ecstatic.”
