Only For You Page 5

  “Hello Hunter, what a pleasant surprise. What can I get you? Any beverage you want, it’s on me.”

  Hunter was dumbstruck, equally shocked to find me behind the counter as by my radical change in temperament. He studied me for several moments, assessing my sincerity, but not reaching a conclusion. I stifled a snort when he tilted his head and shifted slightly as if a new angle might bring the situation into focus.

  “Hi Everleigh, it’s nice to see you, too. I’ll have a large black coffee.” His apprehension pronounced, unsure if I was escalating our game to another level.

  “Sure thing. What type did you want? Is it to stay or to go?” I questioned in my sweetest voice.

  “Just black, no sweetener or milk. To stay,” he said with growing concern on his face.

  “No problem, but what type of coffee? Columbian, Brazilian Santos, Papua New Guinea, Ethiopian Yirgacheffe, Costa Rican Tarrazu? The menu is on the wall if you want to review all the options. Oh, we have an amazing Kona special this month, it’s a bit pricy but we all need to indulge once in a while,” I smile encouragingly.

  “Are you trying to mess with me again?” he accused cynically.

  “What? Absolutely not. I just want to make sure I pour your preferred bean. I can usually guess a customer’s preference, but you’re tough to predict. There’s more to you than meets the eye, something deeper beneath the surface.”

  I hoped he comprehended my acknowledgment of his secret and that it made no difference to me.

  “Beneath the surface, huh?” He suddenly looked incredibly uncomfortable. “I’m not familiar with most of the coffees you just listed. I’ll stick to Columbian, it’s the only one I recognize.”

  His apologetic tone was familiar; first-timers were unprepared for our vast selection. Usually I poured medium-bodied Columbian when I spotted the overwhelmed expression.

  “Coming right up.”

  He watched my every move cautiously, and I became disconcerted by the attention. “You can take a seat. I’ll bring it over in a minute.”

  “That’s okay, I’ll wait for you to finish,” he replied, reluctant to leave me unattended with his beverage.

  Was he afraid I was going to poison him? Did he not notice how nice I was being?

  “Hunter, I’m not going to poison you. This is my place of work, it would be unprofessional and bad for business. Furthermore, I have a feeling we are going to become good friends; poisoning you may put a damper on that budding friendship.”

  “Thank God, if it weren’t for the sarcasm I would’ve been concerned you had been body snatched by aliens.” He offered me one of his dazzling smiles, “So we are going to be good friends? Why the change of heart? I thought your opinions of me were resolutely in enemy territory.”

  “Absolutely we will be friends; in fact I need to officially introduce you to my best friend, Sam, who was at the self-defense seminar. You’ll love her.”

  “I remember. She seems like a nice girl—very pretty—but I’m not interested in a relationship with her if you’re playing matchmaker.”

  He thought he had identified the motive for my change in disposition, and I rolled my eyes at him.

  “You are ridiculous. I’m not trying to set you up with Sam, you’re not attracted to her, it would make no sense.”

  “Okay,” he was lost after I denied his theory. “I didn’t want ambiguity or assumptions to cause disappointment,” he explained, unconvinced I was on the level.

  “Stop the conspiracy theories, there’s no hidden scheme for you to ferret out. You’re new to Hensley and might enjoy the company of new friends. I am only inviting you to hang out for that purpose—got it?” He nodded his lips quirking up in an involuntary smile at my no-nonsense tone. “Maybe we could go shopping next week? Oh, and you have to come dancing next Saturday at The Stop. I need to check out your moves before I officially approve your application.”

  “Shopping?” He looked bemused. He must really need this coffee to revive him. “I’m not sure if I can fit it in this week; maybe another time. I can probably manage to meet you at The Stop next weekend for a bit, although I wasn’t aware I had applied for a position. What position would that be by the way?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  “Your acceptance as my back-up dance partner. It’s a very prestigious position, I assure you.”

  “I’m sure it is,” he responded with an unidentifiable expression on his face. “I look forward to auditioning,” he smirked enigmatically.

  I handed him the coffee, trying to determine if I had just been warned of a coming dance floor catastrophe. He accepted the mug with a dazzling smile before making his way to a table.

  I monitored him from the corner of my eye as I assisted other customers. I wanted to join him and engage in further conversation, but was thwarted by pesky patrons. I was refilling the bean jars when Hunter returned with his mug, earning himself bonus points.

  “Thanks for the coffee, Everleigh, it was delicious. I’ll see you in Business Strategy on Monday.”

  “Yep, see you there. Have a great weekend, Hunter!”

  He returned my smile and left.

  Phase one of ‘charm new friend’ was a success. I redefined the tone of communication, illustrated my kindness and generosity, and most importantly, scheduled a playdate for the following weekend. I was proud of myself. He was resistant at first—not trusting my transformation—but he warmed significantly after accepting I didn’t intend to kill him.

  I checked my phone to confirm I received Sam’s first text—“All’s well.” Perfect.

  I was exhausted by the time I finished my shift. My co-worker, Regan, had counted out the till, but her numbers didn’t match the sales receipts, never a good thing. I let her leave, and carefully recounted, finding the correct amount was in the drawer—a twenty had found its way into the tens, which Regan hadn’t noticed. After finishing the nightly reports and dropping the money in the safe, I set the alarm and locked up.

  I walked to my car, which I always parked towards the back of the lot leaving the closer spots for customers, when I felt an unsettling tingle along my spine. I paused and looked around. The lot was deserted, but I felt like I was being watched. I increased my pace, hurrying to my car, but the feeling of unease was growing and I fought to contain my rising panic. It was all my imagination, paranoia. No one was watching me. I fumbled through my bag, trying to locate my car keys as expeditiously as possible. Where the hell were they? I was breathing rapidly, my fear reached a level that caused a physical response. Please, please dear God, help me find my keys. My fingertips connected with the keys in the bottom corner of my purse as a hand grabbed my shoulder.

  “Ahhhhh!” I shrieked at a decibel I had never before reached.

  The hand released me instantly. “Ev, holy shit, calm down. It’s just me, Linc.”

  I recognized the familiar voice. He was safe, my friend, wasn’t he? I spun around to face him, slamming my back painfully against my car door.

  “Linc, what are you doing here?” accusation permeated my voice as my heart hammered in my chest.

  “Ev?” He examined me carefully, confused by my tone. “Wow, you really are terrified. I’m not going to hurt you, how could you even think that?”

  He took a step away, granting me space, making me feel safer, less confined. I looked in his eyes and realized I had hurt him with my suspicion. I was immediate flooded with guilt.

  “I’m so sorry Lincoln, of course you would never hurt me. I’m on edge with all the attacks, and I felt someone watching me, I just panicked. Forgive me?”

  “Sure, Ev. I understand,” traces of disillusionment remained.

  He couldn’t possibly understand, no man could. It was impossible to explain what it was like to be a woman under the best of circumstances, the awareness of our vulnerability, the inherent wariness. And in these extraordinary circumstances—he could never fathom the effects of living every day under the threat of assault, the constant vigilance required
for self-preservation, doubting every man we encountered whether stranger or friend. Even now, in the shadowy parking lot late at night, I could not fully relax and trust Linc; I couldn’t fully withdraw my defenses and shook my head sadly.

  “We’re all paranoid right now, please don’t take it personally. It’s not you.” I tried to smile convincingly, likely failing. “So, what brings you here?”

  “I was driving by after a McDonalds run when I spotted your car in the lot I decided to pull in and eat here, make sure you made it to your car safely. I was going to knock on the door to let you know I was here, but I didn’t want to scare you,” he smiled ruefully. “Guess I failed in that regard.”

  “Text me next time to let me know you’re lying in wait. You took ten years off my life tonight.” I swatted his shoulder playfully, beginning to relax.

  “Will do, sorry for scaring you. If it’s any consolation, I may suffer permanent hearing loss. I am surprised the police haven’t shown already with the volume of that scream.”

  “Thanks for checking on me, it was very sweet.” I gave him an awkward one-arm hug. “I need to get home, I’m shot. We’re going to be at The Stop this Saturday if you want to come by.”

  “Sounds good, maybe I will.”

  We said our goodbyes and I climbed in my car, immediately locking my doors. I was shaking most of the drive home, more from my adrenaline surge than the cold weather, as I tried to ebb my fear.

  I exited the bathroom when I heard the front door open and Sam murmuring, presumably to Robbie. I ducked into my room to get dressed and provide privacy.

  A few minutes later Sam yelled, “You can come out now.” As I headed into the living room she continued, “How was your night?”

  I didn’t want to talk about my freak out with Linc. Even though Sam would understand, I was still embarrassed by my reaction.

  I deflected, “Screw that, how was your night?”

  “It was great. He picked me up on time and we had a romantic dinner at Bella Luna. He suggested a drink afterward, so we went to that trendy new martini bar.”

  “Thank you for the cliff notes version, now can I have the full story? Since when are you stingy with details? Usually I’m begging you to edit.”

  “I really like him, I don’t want to jinx it. It was comfortable, almost familiar, but exciting too. We talked about everything—school, work, families, friends, how we envision the future. It was a perfect first date. I even told him about my crazy family and he didn’t run for the hills.”

  “Sam that’s fantastic. How was the goodnight?” I wagged my eyebrows suggestively.

  “Amazing! He kissed me soft at first, and then got down to business. If his tongue technique was any indication, I will be a fantastically happy girl in the foreseeable future.”

  “And there is the Sam I’ve come to expect and cringe from. Overshare!” I shuddered for effect. “Play devil’s advocate, what flaws did you find?”

  “None really. He is in a fraternity—Kappa Sigma Tau—if you consider that a flaw.”

  “It’s not a ringing endorsement, but it doesn’t bar him from competing. Isn’t that the frat with more money than sense?”

  “Yeah, all of the members are legacy and loaded—well, their parents are at least. They have a reputation for crazy parties and over-the-top pranks, but Robbie swears most of them are good guys.”

  “At least Robbie is comfortable with affluence. He won’t be scared off by your parents if he makes it to that round.”

  I acknowledged the commonality Sam shared with Robbie, which she had tried to gloss over for my benefit. Sam was sensitive about discussing her family’s fortune. An unnecessary concern on her part, but thoughtful nonetheless.

  “I invited Robbie to come dancing with us next Saturday.” Sam sounded excited.

  “Speaking of next Saturday, I invited Hunter to join us.” I proceeded to recount his visit and we deemed my mission a resounding success.

  Chapter Five

  * * *

  "It’s shrinkage! Hasn’t she heard of shrinkage?" -George Costanza, Seinfeld

  Monday morning dawned with a thud, literally, as I fell out of bed in the midst of a dream I couldn’t remember. I hadn’t fallen out of bed since childhood, except for once—but, I was not the only one who fell out of the bed, and it was worth it. This time, all I had to show for my descent would be a bruised hip. After my obligatory cup of coffee, I dressed in dark jeans, navy sequined tank, and my soft cashmere navy cardigan. I threaded a red leather belt through my pants and slipped my feet inside red quilted ballet flats.

  I arrived on campus early, killing time in the atrium of the building when I saw Hunter approach. Did the man ever have a bad hair day? He was wearing dark jeans, a navy sweater, and red chucks. The wide hammered silver band on his middle finger reflected the sun, winking at me. I assessed him with disbelief. He made a small gesture with his hand greeting me. Shit! I’d been busted gawking.

  I shook my head disapprovingly as he strode toward me.

  “Are you spying on me, Mr. Charles?” I asked in my most haughty tone.

  “Not in the strict sense of the word, Miss Carsen. Monitoring would be more accurate—for your safety, of course.”

  I brazenly perused him from top to toe, followed by a pointed glance at myself, “If you aren’t spying then how did you manage to copy my attire with such precision? Do you also have plans to dye your hair blonde, too?”

  He chuckled while taking note of our matching attire. “I see your point. I debated going blonde as well, to complete the facsimile, but I wasn’t sure I had the skin tone to pull it off.”

  “I was going to invite you to join me for lunch, but clearly it’s futile. Whatever would people think?”

  “That we share the same chic fashion sense? You could run home and change your clothes before lunch, problem solved.”

  “Why don’t you go home and change?”

  “I look too good to deprive the masses,” he declared full of self-derision.

  “And I don’t?” I returned imperiously.

  “You, Miss Carsen, are equally alluring and will surely distract the student body.”

  “I don’t think I want to play with you anymore, you always outfox me,” I pretended to pout.

  “Don’t sulk; it doesn’t complement your outfit. Besides, you would be bored to tears if I didn’t present some challenge.”

  I conceded—he was spot-on. “It’s an odd coincidence. We’re wearing our gendered version of the same togs.”

  “Togs?”

  “Clothes,” I gestured in exasperation as he smirked. “What? I’ve been on a British literature kick lately. Stop judging me.”

  “Come on bibliophile, class is going to begin soon.”

  Afterwards, Hunter walked with me to the center of campus.

  “Where are we meeting for lunch, assuming you’re willing to be seen in public with me despite our coordinating attire?”

  “If I must,” I consented dramatically, “Let’s meet at the buffet after class.”

  Spending an hour in Intro to Acting pretending to be circus animals had worked me into a feeding frenzy. Meg at Cup O’Joe addressed my first necessity and I made my way into the buffet to oblige my second. I scanned the dining area and located Hunter next to the windows. I made my way to the table dodging all forms of obstruction, stationary and otherwise. As I approached, Hunter rose to greet me, gallantly appropriating my tray to place it on the table. He dramatically pulled out my chair and assisted me as I sat. I appreciated gentility as much as the next girl, but the whole scene struck me as abnormal.

  “Care to tell me what that was about?” I distrustfully queried.

  “I was merely practicing proper etiquette.” The twinkle in his eyes belied his innocent excuse.

  “You were trying to call attention to our matching faux pas, weren’t you?”

  “I will neither confirm nor deny.”

  “Ass,” I muttered beneath my breath.


  “That is the second time you have called me an asshole,” Hunter said sternly.

  “I have never called you an asshole—to your face—I simply left a trail of breadcrumbs from which you could deduce my meaning.”

  “Ah ha. You finally admit that our song is ‘Sweet As Hole’.”

  “I will neither confirm nor deny,” I said, mocking his earlier statement.

  “It was exceptionally ingenious of you.”

  “I know, right?”

  I caught his smile and realized my mistake. He had tricked me, and I confessed the song I had insulted him with.

  “Dammit, Hunter. How do you always outmaneuver me? They should have you interrogate suspected terrorists. You would trick them into revealing their evil plot every time.”

  “Nah, terrorism isn’t my specialty.” He winked before suddenly whistling, “That is some lunch you have there.”

  “I’m as hungry as the bear I just spent the last hour pretending to be. A salad was not going to tame my ravenous need. Besides, who am I trying to impress?”

  “Not me, that’s for sure,” he answered quickly with synthetic sorrow.

  “Here I thought you were a martial arts instructor. Are you moonlighting as a comedian?”

  “Martial arts is my moonlighting gig,” he paused as if weighing his words. “Where is Sam?”

  “I’m not sure. She planned to join us.” I searched the dining room and saw her at the cashier with Robbie beside her. “There she is, her new guy Robbie is with her. Don’t ruin it for her by—just try not to be yourself for a little while.”

  “You are a cruel woman, Everleigh.”

  I waved to get Sam’s attention. She gave me a huge smile as she approached and darted her eyes toward Robbie and then widened them to communicate her pleasure at the unexpected company.

  “Hi Ev. Hunter this is my…Robbie. I mean, my friend Robbie.”

  Sam’s complexion turned a shade of red I had never before seen. Interesting; Sam never feels embarrassment, even when it would be appropriate.