Free Donut Days by Lara Zielin

cup.
    “You want a refill before we get settled?” he asked. Okay, so Jake was still a gentleman. Being hot hadn’t changed that at least. Chill out, Em, I told myself. Just keep it together .
    “I’d love a coffee,” I said, relieved that my tongue was now back in working order. “House brew would be great.” I was grateful that I sounded at least a little bit cool.
    “’Kay,” Jake said, and he went to the counter. I watched him cross the floor and tried hard not to stare at his backside.
    Suddenly, for the first time since the baptism, I wished that I was on speaking terms with God. If I thought there was a chance He would help me, I would have prayed right then for the strength to talk to Jake without sliding off my chair and onto the floor in a blubbering heap. I just have to be strong myself, I thought, taking a deep breath and sitting up straighter. I ran my hands through my hair quickly and licked my lips. But when I looked over at where Jake was grabbing our drinks, I almost lost my nerve. Two girls in bright pink shirts with donuts placed strategically over their boobs were talking to him. They both had fingers tucked into the loops of their low-rise pants in a casual way that told me they probably talked to hot guys all the time.
    Hot guys like Jake . I wanted to kick myself—literally. How had I let this happen? Shouldn’t I have at least considered it when Jake said he loved me? Shouldn’t I have at least noticed that he had potential? If I had, we could be making out right now on one of Java Nile’s comfy couches.
    No! screamed a different part of my brain. You are friends. It doesn’t matter that Jake is hot! I took another deep breath and immediately agreed with my more rational self. Just friends. Absolutely. Just like we’ve always been.
    At that moment, Jake set two steaming mugs of coffee down on the table. Some of the dark liquid spilled out of the top of mine, and Jake handed me a napkin wordlessly.
    “Thanks,” I said, and started patting the small puddle of coffee.
    Jake wrapped his hands around his coffee mug and watched me. “How have you been?” he asked politely after a few moments. He was so courteous, he was almost medicinal. My heart jerked in my chest.
    “Fine, thanks,” I said. “You?”
    “Great. I had a good summer at the U. I worked on campus in a physics lab with one of my profs. It was pretty cool.”
    “Oh, wow.”
    “Yep.”
    The conversation was like watching a turtle try to turn itself over after being flipped. I practically expected one of us to start flailing our limbs, that’s how awful it was.
    Jake cleared his throat. “So, uh, how is your mom?” he asked, switching subjects. “I mean, how is your family holding up since—”
    Since your dad waded into the water and started splitting up the church over women’s issues? Great, they’re great. I thought about throwing a pile of heaping sarcasm on top of his question, then taking off. But I knew that Jake—even though he was an O’Connor—didn’t deserve that. He’d come out to Java Nile after all.
    “My parents are fine,” I said. “I mean, things are pretty screwed up, but they ’re fine. They ’re fine.”
    A gorgeous little wrinkle of concern appeared between Jake’s eyebrows. “You know that you just used the word fine three times, right?” he asked.
    I blinked. No, I hadn’t realized that.
    Jake scratched his smooth chin thoughtfully. “So what you’re saying is that everything is . . . fine?”
    I couldn’t help it—I laughed, and I was relieved to see a little smile playing at the corner of Jake’s mouth. At that moment, despite everything, I suddenly realized how much I had missed him after a summer of not talking. I knew—in a way I never had before—that I had a Jakesized chunk of my heart that had been beating irregularly for the three months he hadn’t been in my life. Now that he was around, I felt like everything was in sync again.
    “I guess everything is . . .