Because I don’t date.
The idea of committing to one person—to Micky—is enough to give me nightmares and scary flashbacks. I know that relationships are the kiss of death. I know how much empty promises can hurt. I know what it feels like when someone is your whole world, and then that world goes away. I never want to feel that empty again. I don’t think I’ll survive it.
But I won’t survive losing Mickey as a friend, either.
How have I made such a mess of things? It’s been a week since our meltdown at the Frozen Four celebration. Seven freaking days.
Seven days since Mickey walked away from me.
Seven days since I didn’t go after him.
Seven days since I’ve felt like myself.
The beauty of casual hookups is that they aren’t messy, and yet, here I am, right in the thick of drama.
Spring Break is in full swing, and Maggie and JT took Calla to the beach for the weekend, which means I’m all alone until theyget back later tonight. I’m not the only person on campus, but it feels that way.
My mind knows I need a pick-me-up that even hot yoga could never provide, so that must be why my feet have led me to the front door of Drip, the best coffee shop on the Eastern Shore. Theo, my friend and favorite barista, smiles when he sees me. I know he’s already started making my Raspberry Iced White Mocha when I step up to the register and give my order to the new girl. She punches it in and I swipe my card before taking a seat on one of the stools at the end of the counter.
A few minutes later, my drink magically appears. And so does Theo.
“I always order a medium,” I say, eyeing up the big-ass cup.
He sits next to me, pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and smiles. “Yeah, but the look on your face when you walked in said that maximum amounts of mocha and raspberry were necessary. I only gave you one shot of espresso, though, because otherwise you’ll be up all night spiralling about whatever has you looking so lost.”
I shoulder bump him. “You’re the best. Thanks.”
“You’re correct. I am the best,” he says, taking a sip of his own drink. “And your obsession with fruity drinks helps to keep this place afloat, so I figure I’ve got to keep you happy. But right now, you don’t look happy. What’s up?”
I shake my head. “You don’t have time to play therapist. Don’t you have a coffee shop to run?”
“I’m taking my fifteen,” he calls, alerting the other baristas, then he turns back to me with a toothy grin. “I’m on my break. Besides, you’re graduating soon. How many more opportunities will I have to help solve all your problems?”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t solve all my problems. Maggie helps, too. And so do the raspberries. It’s a team effort.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Want me to text Mags? I can rustle up a cookie for the munchkin and we can all weigh in on whatever has you looking like you want to scream, punch something, and then burst into tears.”
It’s a sweet offer, and any other time, I’d love to sit around and commiserate about the stress of daily life. But this isn’t just a regular stressor. And since it involves Mickey and the hockey team, it feels a little weird talking to Maggie about it. She’s always got my back, I know, but she loves Mickey, too.
“She’s on a little family vacay, and I should get to the library soon, though. I’ve got work to catch up on and now seems like a good time to get it done.”
Theo laughs. “You’re trying to get rid of me, Viv, but it’s not gonna work. What’s going on? Is it the cheer drama? Because a couple of your girls were in earlier today, but they looked a lot less lethal than last time they stopped in for lattes, so I figured things had calmed down.”
“It’s not that. It’s …personal.” I take a sip of my drink before I continue, because if Theo wants to duck out of this conversation, I won’t blame him. We’ve only ever been friends, but I got the feeling he was crushing on me for a while there last year, so I tried to tread lightly. He’s too much like a brother to me for there to be any spark between us. We’ve got great chemistry as friends, but that’s all. It’s the complete opposite of what I feel with Mickey. That’s friendship, too, but I also want to rip his clothes off.
“Viv? You still with me? Maybe you need that extra shot of espresso after all?” Theo asks, waving his hand to get my attention.
“Yeah, I just spaced out for a second. You sure you’re up for playing therapist?”
“Give me one sec. I might need more coffee for this.” He stands and steps behind the bar, then fills his half empty cupwith a dark brew before coming back and sitting down next to me.
“You are a mystery, my friend,” I say, shaking my head at his drink choice. “You work in a coffee shop, but you drink plain coffee? Isn’t that against the rules?”
“Nope, and trust me, I checked the manual. Twice. Now, stop stalling and tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help. Baristas are a lot like bartenders, you know? We give great advice.”
I take another sip of my cold, sugary drink because I am stalling. I need someone to talk to, but the idea of rehashing my epic fight with Mickey? Ugh. It’s overwhelming. Maybe I can just talk in hypotheticals. I won’t give all the details, just enough so I can get some outside perspective. This could be tricky, because subtlety is not my style. I’m a straightforward kinda gal. But the situation calls for discretion, so I’ll dig down deep and see what I can drum up.
“Do you have a cat, Theo?” I ask, doing my best to string metaphors together in my head.
