The Art of Losing(45)

I got the hint. When Cassidy was within earshot, there was to be no talk of Janine.

By the end of my first shift, I had learned three other things: pulling those espresso filter things in and out was hard work, the steam wand was way hotter than you’d expect (and so was the steam), and I was going to need to buy black jeans and sneakers. Despite the apron, my jeans were streaked with brown drips, and the toes of my Converse were covered in a thin film of coffee grounds.

When I finally got into my car that night and sat down for the first time since my dinner break, my feet throbbed so hard I thought my shoes might pop right off. I pulled down the visor to look at myself in the mirror and was unsurprised to find that I had coffee grounds in my bangs, no doubt from wiping sweat from my brow, and there was a streak of mocha syrup down one cheek.

Cassidy was waiting in her car for me to follow her to her house. I was going to spend the night, away from the watchful eyes of my parents and the possibility of running into Raf. He had sent another text that afternoon saying that it was good to see me. And that he was holding my copy of Watchmen hostage until I hung out with him again. I didn’t know how to respond, so I stuck to my policy of silence. It wasn’t an easy policy to follow.

“Why don’t you just go for it with Raf?” Cassidy asked me as we sat on her bed that night, staring at our phones.

“Why don’t you just go for it with Will?” I shot back.

“I don’t know,” she said. She hid her face behind a curtain of blonde curls. “He acts like he doesn’t care about me. Now that Janine’s gone, he’s making me work more closing shifts, and he’s always there, like, watching over my shoulder. I know I’m not great at my job, but I don’t need a babysitter. You know?”

I gave her a look that probably mirrored hers when she told me that Raf liked me. “He’s making you stay late because he wants to get you alone at closing time.”

“No way,” she said. “He’s my manager. And he’s in college. He goes to UDC part-time. Actually, it’s pretty cool. He’s getting a degree in . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Jesus. I really sound like I have a crush on him, don’t I?”

We both burst out laughing.

Morgan knocked loudly on the wall. “Stop talking so loud!” she yelled from her room.

Cassidy rolled her eyes and got up to go deal with The Nuisance, but I put a hand on her arm to stop her.

“Just let it go,” I said. “Let’s go drown our sorrows in ice cream.”





Eight Months Ago



When Mike called that day, I could hear in his voice that something was wrong. He asked to come over for a little while, when normally he would have just texted me to say that he was already on his way.

My parents were playing golf, so I told him he could come over. When he got to the house, he rang the doorbell. He hadn’t done that since the homecoming dance that fall. He’d brought me a corsage, but he knew Audrey didn’t have a date, so he’d brought one for her, too. She’d kept it next to her mirror, dried and hanging upside down.

But that day, he came only with his guilt, his head hanging, his shoulders slumped. Full of shame, he asked me to sit next to him on the front stoop. I think it was easier for him to admit what he’d done when we weren’t face-to-face.

“Last night, at the party, I kissed someone,” he said.

My ears got hot first, as if they’d been burned by the information. The heat traveled to my cheeks, then down my neck to my chest. The tears that slid from my eyes should’ve turned to steam.

I didn’t know what to say. I was so shocked that any words got stuck in my throat on the way out.

“Who?” I finally managed to whisper.

He didn’t want to tell me at first, but I glared at him until he did. “Sofia,” he said, adding quickly, “but it wasn’t her fault.”

“So it was yours?”

Mike’s face turned pale. “No! It was just . . . we were drunk, and she was flirting, and I got confused. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“How could you do this?” I said. “Do you want to break up?” My heart ached just saying those words.

“No!” he said, kneeling on the asphalt in front of me, his hands on my knees. “I don’t want to break up. I just . . .” His voice trailed off as he slumped to the ground.

“What, Mike?” I said. Sobbed, really.

“You didn’t know me before I came to DC, but I wasn’t someone that girls wanted to hook up with. I was overweight and smart and I read comics. No one was interested . . . until I started playing lacrosse in seventh grade. You’re the first girl I’d ever kissed.”

He wasn’t looking at me, and his eyes were glued to the concrete stairs, but I let my face register my shock anyway. He had never mentioned that, not in the many hours we had spent making out. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d cheated.

“So what?” I said.

“So I love you,” he practically shouted. He was on his knees in front of me, begging, but I had pride. I wasn’t giving in. Yet.

My silence rankled him.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you’d just come to the party with me last night,” he said resentfully as he sat back on his heels.