Page 64 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
I turn back to the window. Piper is talking now. Mostly with her hands. She does that when she gets excited. Waves them around while she’s talking.
“Are you waiting for someone?”
I look back at the barista. “No. I’m just watching someone.” I tip my head toward the window.
His eyes narrow suspiciously.
“Oh, no! Not likewatchingwatching someone. Just making sure she’s okay.”
His eyes narrow more.
“It’s fine. Really. She’s my sister. Stepsister. Sort of…” Everything I say only makes him more suspicious, and now the half-dozen other people in here are looking at me, too. “I’ll leave as soon as she gets on the bus.”
“You need to order something if you’re going to be in here.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest and continues staring.
I glance back at the window. Piper’s bus hasn’t come yet, and if I walk out now, she could see me. But if Britta finds out I ordered something from Starbucks, she’ll never forgive me.
I decide to take my chances with Britta’s fury. “I’ll take a flat white,” I call to him, then go back to my watch.
“You’ll need to pay for it,” he says in a monotone voice that is somehow threatening.
I pat my pockets and hoodie. I don’t have my wallet or phone on me. My eyes dart to the barista. His face remains expressionless, except for a slight tick of his eyebrows. In that motion, I hear everything he’s saying.
I’ve run in here in the worn trackies I was going to strip off to surf. I don’t have a shirt on under my hoodie, which is only zipped halfway. My Uggs are older than dirt and covered in sand. My hair—well, I don’t even want to think about how bad it looks right now.
Basically, I look like every other beach bum who probably comes in here a hundred times a day to use the bathroom without buying anything and leaving a mess behind for the employees to clean up. That’s the best-case scenario.
The other is that I look like the beach bums who not only leave a mess behind but also steal stuff on their way out. It’s a problem at businesses up and down PCH.
So, I do the only thing I can and walk outside before the barista comes from behind the counter to escort me out.
Fortunately, Piper’s bus pulls up at the same time.
Unfortunately, she takes a seat by the window. We make eye contact. Her brow wrinkles with confusion, and I want to crawl into a hole. But then her forehead smooths. She pushes up her glasses and smiles slowly. It’s not the spicy one she usually gives me that comes with a dare and a glare. This one is…sweet, maybe?
Like sucking on a Lifesaver candy after eating a raw jalapeno. I’m keen on both of them, but there’s something really satisfying about a simple Lifesaver.
I lift my hand in a wave as the bus pulls away. If Piper waves back, I don’t see it. I’m breathless. Light-headed.
Confused.
I walk slowly back home, thinking about that smile. Thinking about Piper.
I should hate her.
My face is orange, my hair platinum. In one week, I’ve been subjected to cold showers, disgusting smoothies, early-morning alarms, and overall humiliation. As if that weren’t enough, I’m under the pump to make decisions about Dad, Bombora, and Forsythe Tech that will change my whole life.
I’m a bit of a mess right now, but somehow, Piper’s smile carries me all the way home.
Chapter 21
Piper
As the bus pulls away from my stop, I can’t get Archie’s face out of my head. Mostly the shy smile he flashed and the unsure set of his brow as he waved goodbye. That one look said what I think Archie was trying to tell me this morning. Hedoescare about me.
But I still don’t know what that means.
Those five seconds of locking eyes with Archie have made me rethink everything I thought I knew about him, especially the things I’ve accused him of. Being oblivious to other people’s needs. Acting entitled. Following in Malcolm’s manipulative footsteps. Leaving literal and figurative messes everywhere he goes.
