Page 5 of Love You A Latte

Against my better judgement, I slip my finger under the corner and rip it open.

I unfold a piece of white printer paper, the words typed in a plain black font:

No one wants you here. You’re just a dumb bitch with no future. I’m going to tell the world what a stupid bitch you are. I’m going to scratch your ugly eyes out. Your little “business” is a failure and a stain on our town. You’ll get what’s coming to you. And it’ll hurt. Wait and see. I dare you.

My jaw clenches in frustration. I have a healthy suspicion that I know who has been sending these letters, but I can’t be sure. They all arrive at different times and days, with no name or return address, and they’re never postmarked, just slipped under the back door off the alley so I can’t even check the street cameras. I want to crumple it in my fist, but instead I shove it back in the envelope and write the date on the outside, then stomp upstairs to my apartment loft and stick it in the desk drawer with the others.

With nothing left to do but prepare for tomorrow, I plod back downstairs to the coffee shop. I take my anger out on the tables and counters as I scrub them down, turning my hand in hard circles against the wood and hoping the satisfaction of a clean space will settle my emotions.

Before I get very far, my frustrated thoughts screech to a stop when I glance out the window and catch a glimpse of light brown, sun-kissed hair. My head jerks up and Istraighten with a smile starting to curve my lips, but when I turn to look, it’s a stranger. My heart sinks with disappointment as she flounces down the street with an ice cream cone, laughing as she runs across the road to her friends.

I pinch my lips and return to my task, ignoring the fact that I’m already desperate to see Addison again.

CHAPTER THREE

ADDISON

I’ve tried on three different outfits already and I don’t feel confident in any of them. Which is frustrating, because I packed all of my favorite, most confidence-inspiring outfits for this trip.

With a huff, I toss on a pair of frayed jean shorts and another slouchy tee, this one white with “here for the girls, gays, and theys” printed on the front. I twist it up on one side and tuck it into my shorts, then thread a hot pink belt through the loops. Flip flops and a floppy sunhat with my heart-shaped sunglasses complete the look.

If I can’t achieve confident, then I might as well be comfortable.

Moose, my sister’s black lab mix, is already dancing around my legs, eager to go out after being cooped up all day yesterday.

“What do you think, my sweet Moosie Goosie?” I ask him.

His ears perk and his tail whacks my shins.

“Ow, you gotta watch it with that thing.”

He doesn’t, and his tail proceeds to thwack the door as I snap on a leash. I figure that’s got to hurt, but he doesn’t seem phased, so what do I know?

“Alright. Walk and then work, yeah?”

His tongue flops out as he pants up at me, which I take for agreement, and we set out for a stroll. I take him on aroundabout path along the river and then into downtown Stone Ridge. There’s only one main road and a couple side streets, with many of the same shops that were here when I was growing up. I didn’t get a chance to do much in town when I was here a few months ago, so it’s nice to take my time now. A bittersweet heaviness sinks into my chest at seeing how little has changed as I take my time wandering up and down the paths I used to know by heart. It makes me wonder when this stopped being home, and if it ever could be again.

Everyone seems to know Moose, and he seems to know all the people who stop to give him pets and treats, plus where all the water bowls are. Before I know it, he’s pulling me through a propped open door and then we’re standing inside Roasted Coffee House. I blink and take off my sunglasses, but Moose is still yanking on his leash.

When I look up to see where he’s trying to go, I come face to face with Frankie. All glorious messy curls and tattooed forearms, wearing an apron as they drop muffins into a pastry box. They glance up and their crooked smile punches me right in the chest.

I can’t help but grin in response, but my joy feels too big, out of proportion, so I bite my lip in an attempt to contain it. They give me a chin nod while angling their head at the empty table near the counter with a quirked eyebrow. Moose is already tugging me that direction, clearly knowing where he’s going, so I figure it must be okay to have him in here.

The customer leaves, and Frankie snags a towel to wipe down the counter. Then they throw it over their shoulder as they saunter toward me, black combat boots scuffing the wooden floor.

“Hey Addison,” they say.

My tongue feels thick in my mouth. This has never happened to me before. I have great social skills, I can talk to anyone about anything. I’m bubbly and cheerful and fun, everyone says so! So why can’t I talk to this one person?

They drag their teeth over their bottom lip and I’m pretty sure they’re trying not to laugh. My cheeks heat andI cover them with my palms.

“You good?” Frankie says.

I clear my throat, then nod, but I still can’t speak..

“Right, okay. So I’m gonna snag some more to-go cups to restock behind the counter, then I’ll be back and we can try again. Yeah?” they say, and I nod again, perhaps a bit frantic this time.

“Cool,” Frankie says, spinning on their heel and striding to the back room.

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