“Give it to me straight, then, Carrie. What kind of guy would check your boxes?”
She pops the last of her doughnut into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully as she licks her fingers clean.
“Someone so crazy about me he uses his superpowers to save my life, even though that breaks every rule in the book.”
What the fuck?
“Right. Sounds like an amazing piece of fiction you’re reading.”
“It is.” She sighs, resting her chin in her hand. “It’s a paranormal romance, and I’m obsessed with the guy. He’s this dreamy three-hundred-year-old vampire who’d burn the world for her.” She sits there staring into space, before shaking her head briskly. “Anyway, enough about me! We’re here to focus on…”
I smile at her encouragingly. “On?”
She slumps deeper into her seat. “Shit, I don’t know! Yeah, I read books about people falling in love and living for love and doing anything for love, and stuff. And yes,” she continues, “I agreed to help you because your story hit home. But the truth is, I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.” She frowns. “I have no idea how to help you. I—”
“Carrie,” I interrupt, holding up a hand. “Just breathe. I didn’t ask for a whole essay, I’m not expecting a master class, or anything. How about we just talk and see where things lead?”
“Yeah.” She stares down into her mug, unconvinced. “I guess.”
“I’m not interested in, like…” I search the room for inspiration. “Data, and shit. I just want your thoughts on what makes a good guy, considering you live and breathe this book stuff.”
“?‘Book stuff’?” She whips her head up. “What does that even mean?”
She’s raising her voice, but it’s not because she’s mad. A couple about our age at the table next to us is in the middle of a full-blown fight. I missed how it started, but it seems to involve a phone, shaving cream, and tape.Intense!
Carrie is doing her best to talk over them, but they’re getting louder and louder, until finally, it’s impossible to ignore.
She spins around to face them. “Cut it out, guys! If you’ve got shit to deal with, do it at home.”
I nearly choke on my drink. Carrie never treads lightly. She always tells it like it is. The way she just blurts stuff out is probably my favorite thing about her. And for once, I’m not the one she’s aiming at, so I plan to savor every second.
The couple lower their voices, but somehow the hissing is even more distracting. I stare at my newfound friend, doing my best not to burst out laughing.
“Okay, that’s it!” she barks, scraping back her chair.
“None of this would be a problem if he just admitted he messed up!” The girl next to us folds her arms across her chest.
The guy glares at her. “Messed up how?”
“Dude, you’ve been checking out that girl at the back for twenty minutes now.” Carrie points at him with her straw.
How did she even notice that?
“Ha!” his girlfriend says triumphantly. “I knew it! What an asshole…”
“Pipe down, honey,” the guy snaps back. “You really think I didn’tnotice you checking him out?” He points at me. “Yeah, those shades aren’t fooling anyone.”
I grab my cup of coffee. Anything to hide the smile spreading across my face.
“Okay, children. Time-out.” Carrie glares at them. “So go take a walk, break up, hook up, go pick apples for all I care—but for the love of sweet baby Jesus—get the hell out of here!”
We all sit there in stunned silence, until finally the guy pipes up.
“Girl, how about you go f—”
“Whoa there!” I hold up a warning hand. “Listen, buddy. I’m gonna suggest you don’t go there. I’ve cut you guys some slack, don’t make me change my mind.”
I end with a classic Wolinski brow furrow—a killer move that’s been handed down through the generations.
