Page 7 of When He Saved Me
He was my first friend.
I had noticed that sometimes the girls in my class would hold hands with their friends as they played on the playground, so one day, I reached for Shane’s hand. He was my friend, after all.
Shane looked at our clasped hands and then smiled at me. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. We stayed like that for the rest of recess.
This became part of our routine. While little girls skipped around the playground hand-in-hand and the boys chased each other over and around the play equipment, Shane and I sat on the bench, hands clasped, and watched the other children play.
I was happy.
Christmas break arrived, and we were out of school for two weeks. I was glad to be home, away from the noisy classroom, but I missed Shane. I asked Mom every day if I could see him, and every day she made some excuse or another for why we couldn’t. Eventually, I stopped asking.
The day we were to go back to school, I woke up extra early, excited that I would get to see my friend again, only when I arrived at school, he wasn’t there.
He wasn’t there the next day or the day after that, and when I finally asked one of my teachers where he was, she gave me a sad smile and explained that Shane’s parents had decided to enroll him in a different school.
I was heartbroken.
When Mom picked me up that afternoon, I sobbed in the car, telling her how sad I was that my friend wasn’t going to my school anymore. She remained quiet, lips pressed together, all the way home.
After dinner that evening, my father took me into his study, sat me on the chair in front of his desk, and explained very clearly that boys don’t cry and mustn’t ever hold hands.
CHAPTER4
FINN
I watchedas snow fell quietly out the front window of the shop. It was a light powder that swirled in curlicues along the asphalt and sidewalks, coating the piles of recently fallen leaves in a dusting of white.
The Daily Grind was full of bustling college students, sprinkled with the occasional harried mom with toddlers in tow. A colorful array of winter coats hung on the backs of chairs while beanies and gloves were tossed aside on the tabletops. Some students worked solo, curled over laptops, furiously typing away. Others laughed in groups clustered near the fireplace or stuffed into booths, taking a break from the stresses of college life or working on group projects.
I could have been one of those working solitary at a table, coffee at hand, writing away for some class or other. I would have been in my senior year.
Instead, I was on the other side of the counter, serving coffee to those college students. And while I sometimes resented that fact, the truth was that when my father cut me off, in many ways, he set me free. I was no longer obligated to pursue a medical degree I didn’t want, and while I didn’t think I wanted to be a barista for the rest of my life, it was still my choice.
Would be damn nice to not be living paycheck to paycheck while working multiple jobs though.
While the shop was bustling with customers, no new orders had come in for the last ten minutes, so I poured myself a cup of coffee and leaned back against the back counter, taking a sip. I’d long ago established myself as a loner, so the other employees joked around farther down the counter, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Almost against my will, my gaze was drawn to the guy in the back corner. He’d come in so often over the last couple of weeks that I’d learned his name was Jamie and he was a college student, but I didn’t know anything else about him. He’d come in several times a week, always by himself and always with a huge smile. I’d never known anyone so smiley, and for some reason, it put my back up. How could anyone go through life so happy?
His dirty-blond hair was pulled into a man bun, and I watched as he tucked a loose strand behind his ear before continuing to type on his laptop. I couldn’t see his eyes from here, but I knew they were green, the color of moss as it clings to the side of a tree on a fresh spring day. He paused and picked up his phone, frowning at the screen.
I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the frown that was so out of place on his face. And I didn’t like that I was wondering what put it there.
The bell above the door rang, and a large group of teenagers burst through, chattering away. I rolled my eyes and got back to work.
By the time I’d finished making the lattes and macchiatos with extra pumps of syrup and whip for the high school crowd that had come in from the private school down the block, Jamie was gone.
* * *
Jamie didn’t comeinto the shop for the next three days, five if you counted the weekend. It wasn’t unusual for him to skip a day here and there, and I’d never seen him on the weekends, but since he’d started coming in several weeks ago, this was the first time he’d missed three weekdays in a row.
I was worried. Which was stupid. I didn’t know him. I didn’t want to know him.
As if summoned by my thoughts alone, the door chimed and Jamie walked into the shop. His eyes found mine and his face lit up in a gorgeous smile, which, for some reason, irritated the fuck out of me, so I turned around and busied myself with wiping down the counters. I could have been making his order—he ordered the same damn thing every time—but I didn’t want him to know that any piece of him occupied my mind, even his damn coffee order.
Sarah called his order out from the register, and I turned toward the back counter to make it. My back to the rest of the shop, I heard his voice behind me. “Hey, Finn. How’s it going?”
“It’s fine,” I said without turning to look at him. I took an inordinately long time to make his order considering it was a simple dark roast with no add-ons, but after spending so much time thinking about him the last several days, now that he was here, I suddenly found myself…what? Nervous?
