Page 49 of My Infatuation with Isabella

February 20, 2025

“Okay, I’m here,” Iannounce as I round the corner.

I’m greeted by Fran and her best friend, Helen. They’re standing outside a small store, but I don’t know what type of store it is because there is already a crowd outside and an even bigger crowd inside. I gotta say, that crowd is a deterrent for me. Whatever they want to buy, standing in a queue that long isnotgoing to be worth it.

“Why are we here?” I ask.

Fran loops her arms around me. “Remember when I went out with Helen a few weeks ago? She’s been nagging me ever since to come here at eleven o’clock one morning. Apparently, all hot beverages are sold at half-price for thirty minutes.”

I look at the crowd again. “Uh...Helen, I’m sorry, but half-price isn’t worth standing in this queue. I can get good coffee at the restaurant...for free.”

“It’s not about the coffee or the discount,” Helen argues, her voice slightly higher than usual. “It’s about the vibe and the fun!”

“That still isn’t selling me,” Fran says, and I one hundred percent agree.

“Please,” Helen pouts. “This is the last week they’re doing this, so you’re never going to get another chance. It’s thirty minutes out of your lives. It’s not going to kill you, Fran.”

I’m the sucker, so I cave first. I put my arm around Fran and kiss the tip of her nose. “What do you say? You wanna give it a try?”

Fran is still reluctant but gives a nod. “Okay.”

A barista, dressed in a white shirt and a green and blue checkered skirt, opens the glass door for us a minute later. “Come on in!” she chirps sprightly.

The eight of us standing out on the sidewalk step inside one by one, and as we pass her, she hands us a pen and a ticket with a number on the top. “Write down your order,” she instructs. “We’ll come around and collect your tickets. All orders are made numerically based on your ticket number, so please listen out when we call your number. Drop the pens in the bucket at the front counter when you collect your order.”

Fran scribbles down a low-fat latte while Helen and I go for cappuccinos. We’re surrounded by loud murmurs and chatter. Everyone seems to be as excited as Helen. I can feel the buzz in the air, but I still can’t figure out what all the hype is about...

Until I hear her voice...

“Who’s ready for mocha madness?” she yells.

As soon as my brain registers who it is, I spin around, my eyes searching for her. I find Isabella standing on a chair in the front left corner of the room, a mic in her right hand. She’s wearing the same uniform, a white shirt with a green and blue skirt. Her short asymmetrical bob is straight this time. Maybe it’s because it was dark the last time I saw her, but I hadn’t noticed the navy blue and royal purple streaks.

Excited cheers and whistles fill the room.

“I said who’s ready for MOCHA MADNESS!”

This time, the cheers are so loud it’s almost deafening. If there is one indisputable fact about this woman, it’s that she knows how to get and keep attention.

“That’s better! We’re going old school today with the Casper slide.” Her words cue someone to play the song, the first beats coming through the speakers. “We’re gonna get funky! I know y’all know the moves. C’mon, clap your hands!”

Bella starts clapping, dancing on the chair, and everyone follows. It’s like a flash mob or something because people just start dancing all around me. I understand what Helen meant now. The vibe here is electric. Helen grabs Fran’s hand, taking her a few steps forward into the crowd, and they start dancing too.

“I want to see you give it your all. I’m talking about you in the back there, Bobby. Don’t think I don’t see you. Clara, c’mon, you can do better than that. Monique, you are standing there like a wallflower, girl. Get your ass in this mix!”

I turn to the left to see who she’s talking to. Monique grabs the guy next to her, and they start dancing too. The energy she creates with just words and music is insane, and I get sucked into it. Bella hops off the chair, and along with the lady who greeted us at the door, they make their way around the room collecting tickets. She does a little cha-cha as she moves from person to person, doing different steps with each one. Sliding to the left with some guy she calls George, clapping with a woman named Alyssa. She knows all these people by name. My eyes track her as she does a twirl here and atwo-hops-this-timethere. Her laughter is infectious. Her smile is just...captivating.

There’s a reason why I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s been almost a month since the last time I saw her, and she’s been on my mind every day since then. I try to focus on other things, force myself to keep busy. Nothing works. I keep replaying that night over and over again in my head. Everything she said just makes me want to go back in time and rewrite the past so that things would be different. And then I have to remind myself that I don’t want things to be different. This is exactly where I want to be in my life.

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