Page 46 of Naked Coffee Guy
I say nothing, taking my coffee with me back to my bedroom.
“Maren! You have to give me something. I need details!”
But I just chuckle as I close the door and lock it, considering an afternoon of remembering everything that happened last night with Mac…by myself.
Mac never shows up at my work the next day, even though I jump every time I hear the jingle of a new customer walking through the door. It’s for the best, really. Nina spent all last night trying to get information from me, and she spends this shift doing the same. But I’m as closed up as the KFC recipe vault. I can only imagine how annoying she’d be if he showed his face.
He also doesn’t text me, just like I don’t text him. I’m not disappearing, but I also don’t want to appear as eager as I feel. Still, it doesn’t keep me from checking my phone every five minutes. But all in good fun, It feels like a game to see who will cave first.
The game stops being fun, though, when I reach the end of my shift and there’s still no word from Mac. I mean, I could text him myself, but then I’d lose.
Losing would be worse than not hearing from him all day. Right?
Nina and I head to her car once the coffee shop is locked up. I regret not taking my own car as she continues peppering me with questions about Naked Coffee Guy. Meanwhile, I’m keeping my eyes peeled, trying to appear casual and unbothered while searching for him.
I am the epitome of unchill, and I know I need to get a grip. Thank goddess for tonight’s gig. If anything, it will serve as the perfect distraction for a few hours while I get lost in my music.
When I arrive at Hillside, I immediately head to Claire’s table in the back where she’s sharing a plate of fries with Finn. I haven’t had a chance to fill her in about everything that happened—about Mac, but especially about the drama with my family. I feel terrible that Nina knows at least part of the story before her. That said, we have little ears listening to everything we say, so I give her the Cliff’s Notes version.
“There’s so much to unpack, I don’t even know where to start,” Claire says.
“Well, we can save the stuff about Mac for another time.” I tilt my head in Finn’s direction for emphasis, and she nods her approval.
“Good plan,” she laughs, but then grows serious. “So, how about your family? I can’t believe Lydia treated you that way after you saved her.”
“It hurt,” I admitted. I pull out my phone, flipping to her Instagram page and showing it to Claire. “I mean, I see her in these photos and she appears so nice and approachable. But when we came across her, she was not only drunk off her—” I pause, looking at Finn, who’s looking back at me, waiting for me to say the word. “Butt,” I say with a grin, shuffling his hair. “It seemed out of character for her. But she’s also grown up hearing stories about me that you know weren’t flattering. She probably thinks the worst of me, thanks to my father.”
I glance away, then do a double take as I see a familiar face walk through the front entrance, looking around as if searching for someone.
Lydia.
“Speak of the devil,” I say, nodding my head in my sister’s direction. Claire gasps as she catches sight of Lydia, just as my sister’s eyes land on us. She freezes, and I can see how uncomfortable she looks.
Good.
Lydia looks at her feet, unmoving, and as much as I want her to suffer, I also want to hear what she’s going to say. So when she looks my way again, I give her the slightest of nods.
“We’re going to see what Ethan’s up to.” Claire takes Finn’s hand, coaxing him to his feet.
“I’m not done, Mom,” Finn complains.
“Dad has more fries in the kitchen,” she counters, pulling him with her. She glances back at me and mouths be nice. I roll my eyes but shoot her a small smile as if to say I’ll try.
“Hey.”
I turn my head slightly at Lydia’s voice, noting her twisted hands and lowered eyes.
“Can I help you?” I ask, then turn back to the plate of cold fries as if they’re the most interesting thing in the venue. I hear her sigh, and she moves around the table and sits across from me. She doesn’t say anything, and when I finally look at her, I see the tears brimming her eyes. I exhale hard, shaking my head. I also hand her a napkin, which she uses to dab her eyes.
“How’d you know I was here?”
“I’ve seen you here before,” she admits, “I was with some friends and you were playing, and I realized it was you. I heard there was live music tonight and hoped it would be you. And, well…”
She trails off, and I watch her for a moment. I see the bits of her I used to know, the shy kid who used to follow me around when I let her. But I also see the woman she’s becoming…as long as she doesn’t fuck it up.
“Did you survive the hangover?” I ask, and she releases a watery laugh.
“I felt like I got hit by a sledgehammer all day yesterday. Mom and Dad think I have the flu. Mom made me stay home from school again today, just in case.”