Free She Loves You, She Loves You Not... by Julie Anne Peters Page B

Sarah. Call tomorrow before you come.”
    You wondered what Dad thought of Sarah. He’d love her if he knew her. Footsteps on the stairs and then a presence. Dad said, “Do you want anything? Hot cocoa or a toasted cheese sandwich?” Dad had always made you toasted cheese when you were little. Toasted cheese and tomato soup.
    But all you wanted was sleep. Did you fall asleep again? Someone brushed your bangs up and planted a kiss on your forehead. On your eyes, your lips. Her lemon-lime shower gel filled your nose. You pulled Sarah down.
    A movement at the door snagged your attention. How long had she been standing there? How much did Tanith see?
    Enough to know Sarah was more than a friend.
    Arlo shoves a tub of dirty dishes at me as I rush through the café doors. He snipes, “You can’t wear those to work in.” He rolls so close to my toes, he almost runs over them, and I have to jump back.
    “I know. I didn’t get a chance to go buy any shoes.”
    “Doesn’t your
mother
have shoes?” He says it like it’s a dirty word.
    “Yes, my
mother
does.” I throw it back in his face. “If you want me to wear fuck-me pumps.”
    His eyes meet mine, and his lips twitch. So glad I amuse him.
    I wonder what it is between Arlo and Carly. Something.
    Arlo rolls over to the fridge and mutters, “Wear a hat.”
    I pivot to snag a cap off the cup holder, and scoop up an order pad.
    A score of hungry eyes eat me alive along the counter. Finn’s busy with tables. “Good morning,” I call cheerily to everyone. “I’ll be with you quick as a bunny.” Did I just say that? I get stupid when I’m nervous.
    Finn zooms by with a fistful of orders to pin on the rack. She says, “Can you handle the counter by yourself?”
    “Sure,” I say, not sure at all.
    “Can I get a cuppa joe?” This beefy guy wheezes and coughs up bloody phlegm into a napkin. Major ew.
    I spill a tall grape juice down my shirt, which makes me look like Sweeney Todd, and then I get two orders of toast sent back because they’re cold. I can’t figure out how to get hot coffee and hot toast out at the same time. As I slam down two more slices of bread in the toaster, the steam from the espresso machine scorches my hand, and I squeal. A customer comes up behind me and says, “I ordered a cherry Danish, not raspberry. I don’t think I should have to pay.”
    He’s holding out an empty plate. I’m about to say, “Okay,” when Finn grabs the plate and goes, “Nice try, Gomer. You don’t think she’s gonna fall for that old trick, do you?” She cocks her head at the guy. He snaps his fingers like,
Got me
, and reaches for his wallet.
    Without warning, my arm is jerked backward. “Be careful,” Finn says. I was about to pour boiling-hot milk from the espresso machine on my hand. She presses a button to release steam.
    “Thanks,” I say.
    She lets me go but holds my eyes.
    I suddenly feel so inadequate and incapable and inexperienced. Finn gives me a brisk hug around the shoulders. “It’ll get easier,” she says.
    “When?”
    “Order up!” Arlo calls.
    Finn leaves to fetch the plates, but her kindness clings to me.
    A woman signals to come over to her table. It’s that nurse from the other day. “Alyssa, right?” she says.
    “Right.” How’d she know my name? I don’t have a name tag yet.
    “I’m Barbara. I knew your mom when… I mean, I still know her. I don’t see her as often.” She lifts her plate. “My eggs are kind of runny. Do you think you could ask Arlo to apply a bit more heat?”
    “Sure.” I take the plate from her.
    “Tell him I ordered over easy, but these are a little too easy for me.”
    I run the plate into the kitchen and say to Arlo, “These eggs,” and he almost launches off his chair. “Don’t
do
that!” he screams at me. “Don’t ever sneak up behind me!”
    “God! Don’t yell at me!” I shout. I hate being yelled at. Now I’m on the verge of tears, but I refuse to let him see me cry. “These