Page 79 of Fly Back to Me
After taking Friday and Saturday to accelerate our breakup, I need a mental reset. Of course, Jenna and I said a lot of shitty things to each other while she was packing up, only powering the exhaustion of it all.
As necessary as our split is, I can’t shake the fear of losing a piece of me in this process. And my only hope is that whatever part of me Jenna takes with her will eventually find its way back home.
If you asked my old self to have faith in that idea, I’d tell you to fuck off.
If you asked the guy grinning like a fucking idiot in the middle of The Grind right now, he’d tell you there’s definitely hope. In the form of a blonde bombshell sitting in the built-in bench in the corner.
I called Olivia asking if she wanted to meet at the coffee shop, and when she told me she was already here, I hopped right on my motorcycle.
Her long hair is pulled back in a low bun, and there are these gold hoop earrings peeking behind her curtain bangs. Her glossy lips wrap around the rim of her latte cup, her free fingers typing on her laptop.
My stomach tents when my eyes fall to her jean jacket over her loose white tee—a stark contrast to the woman who was masturbating in lingerie on my desk the other night. I swallow when I catch her long legs cloaked in black leggings, only for her white socks to poke out of her white sneakers.
Call me insane, but this might be the sexiest she’s ever looked. My heart practically begs to lunge at her, but my steady legs salvage me.
“Now, why would you get your own cinnamon bun when I clearly offered to get you one in my text?” I ask, sinking into the chair across from her.
Her mint eyes sparkle as she bites off a piece of the roll. “I’ll never say no to a second,” she mumbles.
I smirk, shrugging my leather coat off. “What are you doing?”
“Writing.” Her fingers scroll along the tracking pad as her other hand babysits her sugary treat. “Okay,technically, I’m still brainstorming. Which is taking years longer than I expected.”
“You should stop viewing this side project as having a deadline,” I say, crossing my forearms on the table. “This isn’t your job. It’s what you love andwantto do. There’s true joy in that.”
Her eyes ping up from the computer screen, narrowing above a slanted grin. “Ah, so this coffee date was a means for you to deliver a Ted Talk. I don’t do well with those.”
I laugh lightly. “No, I just say what I feel to be true.” Her smile lengthens, wafts of brown sugar and peony enticing me before she tastes her cinnamon bun. “What’s this story going to be about?” I ask.
Olivia purses her lips as she shakes her head.
I playfully squint, studying the way that glimmer in her eyes dulls a notch. “No? Not even a little hint?”
She gulps the bite of her snack, setting the roll down on the empty brown bag. “I don’t believe in the story just yet. Give me some time, and you’ll be the first to know.”
“Alright, I can live with that. But you have to promise me something.” When she shoots her eyes to me, she arches a brow. “I get the first signed copy.”
Her nose crinkles in the most adorable way. “This isn’t a book you’ll like.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s romance,” she deadpans, tilting her head to the side.
“Okay, you’re right.” I nod through a skewed smile. “That’s not my type of book. But it’ll be written by someone I happen to enjoy. Very much. And if they write it, I want it.”
A pale pink blossoms across her creamy cheeks, and my lungs inflate with this …joy. After the misery of the last few months, staring at Olivia now gives a valid reason for my heartache. Because it’s her who I gain on the other side of it all.
“Do you want another latte?” I ask as I stand.
She waves me off with a tender smile. “No, I’m fine.”
I let her know I’ll be right back before weaving through the tables to the counter. Luckily, I’m able to walk right up and place my order before bodies station behind me.
When I wander to the side, my eyes catch the neon colors of the “Hello Board” anchored to the beige wall. My hands burrow in my jeans pockets, my gaze trailing the sea of Post-its until it finds hers on a bright blue square.
Is it by accident that two people meet for the first time twice?
I re-read Olivia’s question over, my mind clouding with confusion the longer I try to search for some clarity. Typically, the notes she leaves are directed toward me, so I silently sift through our timeline a little deeper.
