“So why didn’t you send a real picture?” Dale asked. Why was he trying so hard to prove Asher had been fooled? Couldn’t he just accept this new reality and move on?
“Connection shouldn’t be about looks,” I said.
“You were testing him?” Dale asked. I really wished he’d leave. He was taking the fun out of this. Although once he left it wouldn’t be fun either. I’d have to tell Asher the truth, and that goofy grin he had on his face would be gone. But I’d have done him a favor. It was for the best. It would save him from a night of humiliation and being more hurt in the future.
Time seemed to go both fast and slow as I sat there, dodging specific questions, trying to keep answers vague, and pretending to drink coffee all at the same time. This was too much thinking for summer vacation, and further proof that spontaneity was overrated.
Just when I started to wonder how much longer I could keep this up, Dale stood suddenly. “It’s time.”
“It’s time? Already?” Asher asked.
“Time for what?” I said.
“We have to go,” Asher said. “Dale’s family has this dinner party tonight. Hey, maybe you—”
“Can call him later,” Dale said, obviously not wanting Asher to extend me any sort of invite.
Asher gave me a grimace. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”
“Do you have to leave right now?” I asked. “Can’t you stay for a little longer?”
Dale once again interrupted with “You were late.”
“I’m sorry,” Asher said, giving my hand a quick squeeze before standing up himself. “Next time.”
There wouldn’t be a next time. “Can he go without you?” I asked, softer this time, while giving him a pleading look that I hoped he couldn’t resist.
“I drove,” Asher said, dashing my hopes.
“Right.” I stood up and followed Asher out of the booth and to the worn wood floor just in front of the door.
“Thanks,” he said, giving me another one of his world-class hugs. “For showing. You’re…amazing.” He whispered that last word.
I sank against him, holding him tight right back. When was the last time I had a hug like this from a guy? Phillip? Last year? No, Phillip wasn’t really a hugger. He’d always just wanted to make out. Maybe that was why I didn’t even cry when we went our separate ways. Kamala said it was because I never let anyone in, had too many rules, but what did she know? She’d obviously never been hugged like this either.
“Gemma,” Asher said, for what I assumed wasn’t the first time. “Are you okay?”
“What?” I let go and took a step back. “Yes, I’m fine. It was good to finally meet you.”
“I’ll DM you later.”
“Oh yeah, for sure. Bye.”
He gave me his goofy smile and then they were gone. I watched them through the ocean-painted window as they left and climbed into a blue car parked out front. Then they drove away.
I could feel Kamala behind me before I saw her.
“What are you going to do now? You just made that boy fall in love with you.”
Rule: If he doesn’t exist online he can’t exist in your heart.
“He’s not in love with me. He’s in love with Gemma,” I said, turning to face her.
“Who is most likely some forty-year-old man.”
“Ew.”
The man who had come in earlier was sipping on his coffee while looking at books in the corner nook. I lowered my voice and whispered, “Ew,” again. “Maybe this Gemma person is real and just…shy.”
Kamala blew air through her lips. “Oh, okay. Now you’re changing your story?” She pointed to the back hall. “What happened to all that oh, she’s totally fake talk?”
“Apparently I’m hug starved.” I kicked at the blue-and-white checkered tile floor.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, what?” she asked.
“That boy can hug, is all. I’m rooting for him.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Wait, do you like him?”
“Stop, I just met him.” Which was the first of many strikes against him. “You know I like Chad.” Well, I was on my way to liking Chad. I worked with him at Petsacular and so far, he was meeting most of my criteria. The list Kamala said was an impossible set of standards. Chad would prove her wrong.
“Oh, right, Chad. You haven’t said his name in a while. I figured you decided he wasn’t right for you.”
“Slow and steady, Kami.”
She chuckled. “And the perfect hugger?” she said, nodding toward the corner booth.
“He was nice. Like I said, I hope his catfish is real.” My eyes flitted to the table where my mostly full, now-cold coffee still sat. I pointed. “Did you poison me with dairy?”
She covered her face. “I’m sorry! He stood there and watched me make it, like he wanted me to get it just right. I thought you’d taste it and know not to drink any more.”
“I knew it was too good to be dairy-free.” I hoped I hadn’t drunk enough to regret it later.
Kamala patted my stomach. “I’m sorry, Wren’s stomach. Be nice to her.”
I swatted her hands away. “Don’t be weird.”
She laughed.
I glanced back toward the register, my eyes zeroing in on the small wooden box on the counter. I looked at Kamala, then back at the box.
“Don’t even think about it,” she said, and we both took off running toward the counter. I reached it first, but she was right behind me, her hands slamming over mine before I could open the box. “This is private café business.”
“Whatever, you read them to me all the time.”
She sighed. “Fine, but let me open it.”
I stepped back and lifted my hands in surrender. She opened the lid, revealing the one and only folded piece of paper inside at the moment. She took it out and dramatically unfolded it, then read, “Have it your way.”
“Have it your way?” I asked. “That’s what Asher wrote?”
She flipped the paper over, looked at the back, which was obviously blank, then held it up for me to see.
“ ‘Have it your way,’ ” I read out loud. “What does that mean?”