Undecided(12)

Focus, Nora.

“Hi,” I say. My eyes flicker to Crosbie and he gives me a little nod. Between him and Marcela, I have officially pissed off half the people in this room. “What are you guys doing here?”

Kellan links his fingers behind his back and stretches. “We figured we should get in a few runs while we could, so here we are. I’ve gotta step up my game. I came in third in nationals last year—I can’t let that happen again.”

“Third in the country sounds pretty good.”

“It’s not.”

Er… “It’s better than fourth?”

Kellan jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Crosbie came fourth.”

Crosbie nods at me. “’Sup.”

Frick. “Are you guys hungry?”

Fortunately the subject of food is an easy way to distract Kellan. “Maybe a bit.”

“We don’t have any mac and cheese,” I warn, and hear Crosbie snicker.

“Ha ha,” Kellan says. “I’m here for the brownies.”

“Anything for you?” I ask Crosbie.

“Yeah,” he says, looking at the Sudoku puzzle. “Same.”

I open the display case. “We’ve got triple chocolate or chocolate banana. What’s your preference?”

“Triple chocolate,” Kellan says. “For both of us.”

I look at Crosbie for confirmation and he nods. Seeing the look, Kellan explains that Crosbie hates bananas.

I try not to laugh. “What? Who hates bananas?”

“They’re awful,” Crosbie replies seriously. “They taste like dirt and they’re impossible to peel. It’s a sign.”

I’m pretty sure I’ll just laugh if I respond so instead I bite my tongue and plate up two inoffensive triple chocolate brownies. I’m entirely aware that Marcela has stopped painting her nails and is openly watching us, and a little thrill goes through me when I realize that neither Kellan nor Crosbie has gawked at her, as so many guys do. They’re only talking to me.

“How often do you work here?” Kellan asks, scarfing half the brownie in a single bite.

“Three shifts a week, now that school’s starting.”

“Is this the sign up sheet?” Crosbie speaks through a mouthful of brownie, and licks off his finger before flicking open the binder labeled “Open Mic Night.”

“Yeah,” I say, still feeling guilty about offending him earlier, even if every bit of it was true. “Do you want to sign up? We only do four each year and it’s coming up in a few weeks—”

“Dude, no,” Kellan interrupts. “For the love of all that is holy, do not.”

Crosbie smirks at him. “Why not? I’ve got magic fingers, man. All the girls say so.”

Both Kellan and I roll our eyes. “I say this as your friend,” Kellan adds. “Spare yourself the embarrassment.”

Crosbie just laughs and elbows him in the side, but I swear a flicker of hurt crosses his face before he smoothes it away. He’d opened to the page for the next show, which at present is only half full, though we’re always booked solid when the night rolls around.

“It fills up pretty fast. You can put your name down now,” I suggest, “and if you change your mind just let me know and I’ll cross it out. You might not be able to get in, otherwise.”

He finally meets my eyes, and a strange sort of energy passes between us. Like he knows I know he wants to do this, just like I know he doesn’t want Kellan to know how much he does. “It’s fine,” he says, shaking his head. “Another time.”

I offer a conciliatory smile and close the book. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Hey.” Kellan leans in and lowers his voice. “That’s Marcela Lopes, right?” He nods his head in Marcela’s direction, where she’s finished with her nails and is now straightening a display of hand painted wooden spoons.

“Ah…” A sick kind of disappointment spreads through me, but I can’t very well pretend it’s not her. “Yeah,” I say. “That’s her.”

“I didn’t know she worked here.”

I force another smile. “Yep.”

“I saw her around a lot last year.” He looks contemplative and I want to shove him. You saw her? I want to yell. I was right beside her! You didn’t see me! Apparently not even when we were the only two people in the closet, you f*cker.

“Well, she goes to school here.” I pick at a thread on my apron, and when I finally glance up, it’s not Kellan watching me, it’s Crosbie. And there’s that energy again. But this time he’s the one learning my secret.

“Let’s head out,” Crosbie says. The words are for Kellan, but he’s looking at me. “Three more miles.”

Kellan shoots one more look at Marcela, then tugs out his wallet and puts five dollars on the counter. “Keep the change,” he says. “See you at home.” He smiles and waves, and I stare at the money as they leave. The brownies are actually three dollars each, so I sigh and fish out a dollar from the tip jar.



*



What is just a light drizzle at the start of my bike ride home quickly turns into a downpour, and I’m drenched and cranky when I push through the front door, my jeans chafing painfully against my inner thighs with each step.