Undecided(49)

Classes are sparsely populated on Monday, post-Halloween weekend hangovers being what they are. Last year, after downing half my body weight in shots and hooking up with the army man, I’d spent three solid days scrubbing off green paint and regretting my life choices.

This year, however, I feel fine. Better than fine, actually. Maybe even a little…optimistic.

Which is stupid, I know. Crosbie’s got a reputation for one night stands, and it’s far easier to say “See you later” than “Goodbye forever,” even if that’s what you mean. Still, this is the first time since Nate started bringing Celestia to the shop that I haven’t watched them with a little bit of longing. Now that some of my more basic needs have been met, I’ve gained some perspective.

That perspective shifts quickly when Marcela strolls in. She’s dressed modestly for Marcela, in tight dark jeans and an equally tight sparkly white sweater, red lipstick and black velvet heels. The shop is half-full when she enters, and everyone watches as she strides through, including Nate and Celestia.

“Hey,” I say, when she squeezes behind the counter and reaches for an apron. “Feeling better?”

“That’s what drugs are for,” she replies, filling a mug with hot water and dumping in an enormous amount of honey. “I figure I’ve got three good hours before I collapse. I just had to get out of that apartment.”

“I offered to visit you yesterday.”

“I know,” she says, patting my arm. “And that was sweet of you. But that place is a germ market and I wanted to spare you.”

“You’re very kind.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

Truth be told, I was glad she turned me down, and not just because I didn’t want to catch her cold. Marcela has a sixth sense about sex, and I needed to put some distance between my…thing…with Crosbie and Marcela’s innate ability to recognize when anyone has done the deed.

Maybe I’m a great actor or maybe it’s just the cold that prevents her from catching on. Or perhaps it’s the fact that though she’s trying hard to pretend she doesn’t notice them, she’s got one eye on Nate and Celestia, who sit in a corner working on a crossword puzzle together.

“Want to go in the back and make donuts?” I ask, hoping to stop her tirade against Celestia before it begins.

“I’ll come in the back and eat donuts,” she replies, reluctantly pulling her gaze away from the adoring couple. “We—” She breaks off and stares over my shoulder as the door opens, the faint sounds of light traffic filtering in along with the new customer. “Well, this is interesting,” she murmurs, a coy smile curving her lips.

My heart immediately starts beating overtime as I slowly turn, expecting Crosbie.

But it’s not Crosbie. It’s Kellan.

“Hey,” he says, shooting me a grin. He’s wearing a sweatshirt, shorts and sneakers, dark hair damp at the temples.

“Hey,” I respond, hoping I don’t look as disappointed as I feel.

“Hey,” Marcela says.

It doesn’t take a genius to see where this is going.

“Hey,” Kellan replies.

They smile at each other, no other words needed.

“Did you want a drink?” I ask loudly. “It’s on me. Marcela, why don’t you go into the back and start on the donuts?”

“Donuts?” Kellan echoes with great interest.

“Come on,” Marcela says, lifting the panel on the counter so he can step behind. “I’ll show you how we make them.”

“You’re sick!” I accuse. “You can’t make donuts.” I turn my attention to Kellan. “And you don’t work here, so you can’t make donuts, either.” I herd them both out from behind the counter and follow, effectively locking us all out.

Kellan holds up his hands defensively. “Simmer down, Thelma. I thought you’d be more relaxed after—”

I widen my eyes in a warning Kellan actually heeds, cutting himself off before he announces my mysterious sexual escapade to Marcela. Marcela scowls as she grabs a lemon from the basket on the counter, turning her back to us as she slices a piece for her drink. With her attention averted, Kellan makes a face like, Why doesn’t she know?

“I’m shy,” I mouth back. It’s not the best response, but it’s all I can come up with. Fortunately, Kellan buys it, nodding his understanding.

The sound of a throat clearing gets our attention, and the three of us look over to see Nate standing a few feet away, next to a customer waiting for a refill.

“Sorry,” I mutter, hastily reaching around to grab the coffee pot and pouring him a new cup. “My apologies.”

Nate crosses his arms and looks at Kellan. “If you’re not going to buy anything—”

Marcela looks ready to argue, but Kellan answers before she can, pulling a wallet from his pocket. “No problem,” he says with an easy smile. “I came for the brownies.” But the way he’s looking at Marcela says his focus may have shifted.

“Here,” Marcela says, using tongs to select a brownie from the plate in the display case. “This is the biggest one.”

Kellan’s smile widens. “Lucky me.”

I look at Nate and he looks at me. We both look like we want to gag.