Page 40 of Best I Never Had

Hayden is standing in front of the entrance, having just entered the coffee house, with a wide grin on his face.

“Funny running into you here,” he comments, sliding into the seat in front of me.

“My sister’s at the mall, shopping. And I have official chauffeur duties,” I explain, pointing to the large building across the street with the red Macy’s logo facing us. I turn the book on the table, placing it downward with the spine facing up as I put my drink down next to it. “What are youdoing here?”

“Just picking up some coffee,” he says, tilting his head toward the counter. “Jenny likes her mocha fraps on the weekends.”

“What a doting boyfriend you are,” I comment with a small smirk.

He chuckles. “So,” he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his ankles underneath the table as if he plans to stay long, “you all ready for your visit to NYU next week?”

I nod enthusiastically. “My dad’s already on a hunt for a ‘Proud NYU Parent’ bumper sticker.”

My visit to tour the campus has been all I can think about as of late. But aside from touring the campus, I’m also excited to explore the city. This will be my first time in New York City, and I’ve been jittery from the excitement.

He chuckles, running his fingertips along the table’s edge. “What are you majoring in when you leave Beavercreek for fancy ol’ NYU?”

“I’m leaning toward communications,” I answer shyly, fidgeting with the worn edges of my book.

“Leaning?” he asks, curiously questioning my indecisiveness. “You haven’t decided?”

I lean forward, crossing my arms in front of me. “Can I be honest with you?”

He mirrors my movements, leaning toward me until we’re inches apart. The light streaming through the window reflects off his bright eyes, making them look more green than brown as he narrows his gaze on me.

“You’re really joining the circus?”

I lightly poke his arm. When I tell him the truth, my honest answer, I pause before sharing the small chunk of me that I don’t share with most. “I don’t really care what I study as long as I get out of here.”

His smile falters, and his brow furrows. When he stays quiet, I continue.

“I’m probably going to major in communications just so I have a lot of opportunities when I graduate, but my goal is to leave this place. I want to move to the city and see what’s out there.”

He doesn’t say anything, but hesmirks, his smile calm yet surprised in a way that shows he didn’t expect my answer.

“At least, that’s what I hope,” I finish, leaning back in my own chair. “Unless I chicken out or something.”

“You will.” I look up at Hayden, his eyes serious, his voice full of conviction. “You’re going to get out there and see the world.”

I smile, a flushed heat spreading across my neck. “Thank you for your vote of confidence. Now if you can carry the same tenacity when it comes to dissecting frogs,” I joke, shifting the attention away from Hayden’s surety in my future despite my lack thereof, “I wouldn’t have to do all the work.”

“I’ll leave the cutting into dead animals to you, Marquez,” he quips. “I mean, what are lab partners for if not to do the dirty work?”

I smile sincerely at his joke, realizing how different he is from the first day of class. When he was so abashed by his lack of preparation for our lab assignment and now, he’s more than willing for me to take the grunt work, knowing I won’t judge him.

Instead of getting up to get Jenny’s coffee, Hayden stays. We talk about Manhattan in the fall, our favorite places to eat in Beavercreek, and our speculations on why the north side of campus, where the foreign language classes are located, smells like stale prune juice and moldy bread.

We sit and talk for the next two hours until I get a text from Lucy to meet her outside. For that short moment, I forget all about the scary future ahead of us. Instead, I focus on how Hayden and I have somehow fallen into this pattern of conversation and laughter as if we’ve been doing it for years.

present

“This. Is. Delicious,” I groan. “You have to try some.”

I turn to face José. He’s sitting on the other side of the wrought iron table where our hamburgers and fries are scattered. I’ve just taken a long sip of the most delicious pickle lemonade that I’ve ever had, and the disgusted look on José’s face is his silent answer to my offer.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more disgusting combination of flavors in one cup,” he comments, taking a sip of his much safer blueberry lemonade.

We’re on an extended lunch break. The weather outside is clear after raining most of the week, and the crisp air that’s warmed from the bright sun felt too good to pass up on. So we settled for Lemon Patty, an over-the-top hipster burger joint about eight blocks from our office that specializes in various flavors of lemonade along with gourmet burgers. And now, with the discovery of pickle lemonade, my new favorite lunch spot.

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