Page 15 of The Hampton Beach Café 5
“Okay, but can I please help you out here, then?” she said, turning back to her friends.
Lucinda was pouting in her stubborn way, so Frances countered it with an exaggerated mimic of the expression, finally making Lucinda laugh.
“Fine,” Lucinda said, “but only if you promise to relax and have fun while you do it.”
“Scouts honor,” Frances said, saluting.
As they worked together to clear the leaves, Frances caught herself over and over again as she tried to steal glances at Alex. She felt a little bit nervous around him today, unsure of how to act––had he actually enjoyed their fake date? As the morning went on, they fell into an easy rhythm. They joked and laughed, and Frances felt like they were the only two people in the world.
As they worked, Frances let herself forget about all the drama of Clarkson’s fans, his eagerness to sell the café, and the other stress of running a business. She was just happy to be there, with Alex by her side, enjoying the sunny Sunday.
Many long hours later, as they arranged the donated chairs and planter pots into their desired spots, Frances stood back to take in their progress.
Clarkson smiled at her as she took it all in. It really did look amazing. He joined her in the shade cast by the building and stood next to her.
“Looks great, huh?” he said quietly.
Glancing at him, Frances wondered if she’d imagined the cold edge to his voice.
“Yeah, it looks amazing,” she replied.
“Good, good…” he said, turning to her, “…with the garden looking this good, the margins will get even better––like you said. We can sell soon, get you your money back and get you back to your real life in LA, huh? We wouldn’t want you to string Alex along with ideas of you staying. That wouldn’t be fair, would it?”
He was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes, Frances realized. Clarkson turned away, calling out to Alex to help him move the last heavy planter, and Frances was left in the shadow of the building, suddenly feeling cold to her bones.
Why had that sounded like a threat?
NINE
“So…” Alex said as he popped a freshpain au chocolaton the plate in front of her, “…wait a minute for that. It's going to be molten hot inside. So, actually, I was thinking the fan comments have been pretty chill since the influencer thing, right? Maybe we should go for a chill solo date tonight, you know––keep up the ruse. Maybe post some stuff on the Café Bruno feeds, you know, tourist stuff. Tagging both our accounts and maybe... I dunno, cocktails on the bar somewhere...?”
The speech was delivered with barely a breath in between the words, and Frances looked up at him, the piping hotpain au chocolatin her mouth. She bit down on the corner and swallowed, trying to ignore the ludicrous hot chocolate as it went down.
“Uh, yeah? That's probably a good idea,” she said, “adds some... realism, I guess.”
He nodded awkwardly, and she felt a wave of guilt wash over her as she watched him retreat into the kitchen. He obviously felt obligated to help her with the façade. She should never have agreed to this, she realized.
It had worked, though, she admitted. Since the party, the comments had calmed way down on the social feeds, and people had deleted their posts complaining about her.
She still couldn't get her head around why these people cared so much. Regardless, this new fake solo date with Alex should help, too... and what's the harm in going for a walk and a drink with a friend. It shouldn't be awkward. She shouldn't make it awkward with this ridiculous crush she was developing. She'd have to talk to him about it tonight, let him know it was okay not to want to keep going––they could stop.
“Are we going?” Alex said, appearing next to her with her jacket in hand.
“What, now?” she asked, surprised.
“Yeah? Sunset’s in an hour or so, good photo ops.”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” she replied. He seemed... upset?
She didn't have a lot of time to think about this before they were out on the street, walking towards the shore.
“Who's covering?” she asked.
“Luce and Vin are on hand, but it's quiet enough. Figured it was a good time to, you know, get a moment in.”
“Like getting the dishes done in the ad breaks of a show?” she said, flatly but joking.
He turned to her, a serious look on his face.
