Page 14 of You Had Me at Hockey

It’s nearly noon in Manhattan and the sidewalks are busy with people on their lunch breaks hurrying through the cold, the narrow streets as usual packed with traffic. I’m pretty sure there aren’t even designated lanes on these streets; everyone just maneuvers into whatever space they can get.

We don’t walk far. Just around the corner and nearly at the next street, Sara stops. “Here we go.” She pushes into a little restaurant I probably would have walked right by.

It smells amazing, like charbroiled beef, and damn, I’m starving. “Two,” I say to the hostess smiling at us, and she nods, picks up menus, and leads us to a small table.

I’m not sure if the place is really old or made to look like it’s old, with small hexagon-shaped tiles on the floor, dark woodwork and tables, patterned wallpaper, booths along the wall, and red leather chairs. I help Sara with her jacket again, spying a hook on a big column nearby, and I hang our jackets then join her at the table.

“I need coffee,” she mutters, picking up her menu. “I only had a few hours of sleep last night.”

“You’d never know that.”

She looks up at me. “Um…thank you?”

“You seem to have so much energy.”

“It’s the meth.”

My eyes pop open before I can stop them.

She laughs. “I’m kidding. My only addiction is caffeine.” She arches a brow. “You?”

I shake my head. “I might be addicted to caffeine too, but I don’t drink coffee.”

“What?” She stared at me like I just said I like to kick dogs. “How can you not drink coffee?”

I shrug. “Just never liked it. I drink a couple of Cokes every morning.”

“Coca-Cola.”

I grin. “Yeah.”

“That’s bad for you.”

“It probably is.”

The waitress comes by and Sara orders her coffee. I just stick with water.

“So why’d you only get a few hours of sleep last night?” I expect to hear she was out partying at some hot New York club.

“Oh, I was up late editing a video for YouTube.” She rolls her eyes. “It takes me so long to do it, but I have to get it perfect.Imay not be perfect.” She acknowledges this with a smile. “But my videos have to be edited perfectly. It’s hard to explain, but I have a…style, I guess.”

“Huh. I guess I need to watch them.”

Her confidence does a vanishing act. She drops her gaze to the table and moves cutlery around. “I don’t know if you’d be interested,” she mumbles. “Most of my fans are girls.” Then she regains her self-assurance, looks up at me, and straightens her shoulders. “I talk about stuff like clothes…makeup…taste testing burritos…”

“I love burritos.”

Her smile is witchy. “I knew I liked you.”

“What else do you talk about?”

“Sometimes I cook. Sometimes I go shopping.”

I don’t say it out loud, but this doesn’t sound all that exciting. And yet, apparently she’s hugely famous. She has an undeniable appeal—her animated way of talking, her honesty, her infectious smile. Maybe she can talk about drinking water and make it interesting, I don’t know.

I study Sara as the waitress sets a cup of coffee in front of her. Her long brown hair is wavy and wild, parted in the middle. Her eyes are amazing…a clear, light greenish blue with a thick fringe of long, dark eyelashes. She’s wearing jeans, as I am, and a big green chunky knit sweater that appears to swamp her small frame. She thanks the waitress with a smile and my gaze wanders to her hands as she pours cream into the cup and adds a couple of spoons of sugar. Her right hand has gold rings on the three middle fingers…two of them sparkly stars and stacked thin bands on the middle finger.

I nod at her coffee. “I don’t think that’s much healthier than a Coke.”

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