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The Violet Hill Series by Chelsea M. Cameron (12)


Five

Somehow, we were both able to put on the brakes before things went too far. I realized it was very, very late and that I had to work the next morning. I said goodnight to Lacey with a soft brush of our lips and she promised to come by the café for lunch so I could see her.

I went to bed giddy. I couldn’t remember the last time I was this excited about seeing someone the next day. Hell, I was excited about work. Not that any of my jobs were awful, but being this stoked was a rarity.

She was just so sexy and cool and smart and interesting. I loved knowing what she thought about everything. Even if I didn’t want to kiss her face off, I wanted to know her. To talk to her. To spend time with her.

And that time was running out. She was going to leave and not come back. She’d said so herself. A boat without an anchor. Adrift.

I didn’t want to be the one to hold her back. I didn’t even know if I could. I liked her. A lot. But I’d liked a lot of people a lot. Sure, I couldn’t remember liking someone so quickly to this degree, but what did that mean? Not a whole lot.

Still, it kept me up most of the night, thinking about Lacey and kissing her and even drifting toward a future. Coming home from work and seeing her on the couch.

That last part was when I was almost asleep and when I woke up, the dream was hazy and I was turned on. Oh.

I lay there for a moment, trying to get my brain to start functioning normally again. I didn’t dream about shit like that. Ever. I needed to cool things down so I didn’t find myself too far in with no way to get out except with a slightly broken heart.

I was pretty sure that was going to happen anyway, but maybe I could somehow minimize the damage. I’d nursed heartbreak before. I should probably stock up on ice cream and make a list of comfort movies that were available on Netflix. To get out ahead of things.

My alarm didn’t give a shit about potential heartbreak and started screaming, so I got up and turned it off. Time for another day at the Violet Hill Café.

*^*^*

“Did you sleep last night?” Daisy asked when I showed up with barely a minute to spare to clock in.

“Thanks for the compliment,” I said, putting on my apron and checking my hair in the mirror.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I know you work so many jobs. I wonder how you do it.” I gave her a smile.

“So do I.” She laughed and headed back to the bakery. She’d already been here for several hours. Getting the bread baking, making cinnamon rolls the size of a human skull, and putting glaze on the breakfast muffins (they were basically cupcakes). My mouth started watering. I had definitely gained a few pounds since I’d started working here and I didn’t regret a single one of them. I’d never eaten so well. I was kind of a horrible cook, so about ninety percent of the food that I ate came from here.

I got started with setting up my tables and chatting with the other waitress, Ruthie. She was fresh out of high school and was heading off to college in a few months. I thought of her as a little sister and I knew she was going to set the world on fire. So incredibly smart.

“How are you doing?” She’d recently gone through a breakup with her long-distance girlfriend and was pretty blue about it. I’d shared lots of cheesecake and advice during our breaks.

“Fine. I think I’ve moved from acceptance back to rage. I figure as long as I’m not stagnant in one emotion, I’m making progress.” I laughed as she flipped her braid over her shoulder. She had the longest hair of anyone I’d ever known. All the way down her back, it brushed the back of her legs even when it was up. I always joked that she should give up the college dream and just be a princess.

“Well, rage is good. Burns calories,” I said and she nodded.

“Sounds legit.”

We opened the door and our first customers flooded in, eager for caffeine and Daisy’s cinnamon rolls. I greeted most of them by name. Even thought it was a small town, Violet Hill was even smaller and I liked seeing the same faces every day. Consistency was so comforting.

I thought about what I’d told Lacey last night, about this being my family and it was so true. When I looked around, I saw people who would gladly give me the shirt off their backs if I needed it. Who would come and bail me out of jail if I had to call. Wasn’t that what a family was for?

I moved through my day so lost in thought that I didn’t notice when someone came up behind me.

“Whoa!” she said when I nearly dropped the plate I was carrying. I turned to find Lacey standing there and my heart did a little flip and wiggled with happiness. I smiled, despite the fact that she’d scared the crap out of me.

“Sorry,” she said.

“It’s okay.” I took the plate back to the dishwasher and wiped my hands off before I came back out to see her.

“Dirty chai? And a BLTA?” She ducked her head as if she was ashamed that she was predictable.

“Yup. I’ve got a ton of work that I was supposed to do last night that I’m going to catch up on, if that’s okay.” How sweet. She was asking permission to work here. Some people acted like this was their living room, kicking off their shoes and playing funny videos at full volume. Without headphones. I’d gotten used to giving them glares to make them stop.

She took a seat in one of the corners in a fluffy chair that had a little table next to it for the food. She’d brought her laptop in a messenger bag and I couldn’t stop thinking about how graceful and beautiful all of her movements were. I wondered if she’d ever danced. She’d be good at it.

I looked at the clock and realized with all my thinking, I’d missed one of my breaks. Perfect timing. I sidled over to where Lacey sat and pulled over another chair.

“Mind if I join you for a few?” I asked. She opened her computer on her lap and beamed.

“I would like nothing more. Well, I’d like to have you for more than just a break, but I’ll take what I can get.” Now it was my turn to be shy. She made me feel like I was a young teenager with a mountain-sized crush that was going to swallow me whole.

“Okay, then,” I said. She typed something into her laptop and then looked up at me.

“I’ve been working on some of the pictures I took of you, if you’d like to see them.” I wasn’t sure if I did, but I said yes.

Lacey turned the laptop around and I was astonished.

“Wow. I look . . . pretty?” It almost sounded like a question. My hair was a mess, and my cheeks were red and my eyes were a little wet from crying. But I had an intensity in my eyes that she’d captured. It was raw and it was real. She’d taken a picture of me. Not airbrushed. Not fancy. Just me.

“You look gorgeous. But then, you always do. I just had to get that emotion on your face because it was so gorgeous.”

“You sure you didn’t Photoshop me?” I asked, looking up at her again.

“Just a little changing of the light and shadows and fixing some of the tint. But other than that, it’s just you.” I wasn’t so sure about that. But I liked the picture. I hoped that I could get a copy of it when she left.

“Would you like to see the others?” she asked and showed me some of the other raw images she had yet to work on. There was Daisy and Molly, gazing lovingly at each other, Daisy’s face covered in flour. A picture of Jen making sandwiches. Sal in the office, doing the books. A few of our customers, including Todd, the trans man who practically lived here when he wasn’t at work, and who we’d had a fundraiser for his top surgery. Ellie, who was genderqueer and disabled and had the best laugh of anyone I’d ever met. They were all there and they were all beautiful. My patchwork family.

“You really love them,” Lacey said.

“Yeah. I do.” I had tears on my face again.

“Why do you keep making me cry?” I asked, using a napkin to blot my cheeks.

“It’s unintentional, I assure you,” Lacey said. I balled up the napkin and she reached for my face.

I flinched. “What?”

She froze. “You have an eyelash on your cheek.” Oh, how cliché. I leaned forward and let her gather the eyelash with her elegant fingers.

“Make a wish,” she said, holding it up. I couldn’t see it because I was too busy staring into her eyes. Today they looked like black tea with too much honey. Perfect.

“Okay,” I said, blowing at the supposed eyelash. I didn’t make a wish. I was too distracted to think of one.

“I really want to kiss you right now. I wonder if that’s what you wished for,” Lacey said. She’d come closer and our faces were only inches apart. I could kiss her so easily. But I was at work. Not that I thought that Jen or Sal would demote me for kissing in the café (seeing as how Daisy and Molly sucked face, and did lots of things when Daisy was in the bakery), but still. I was still a little rattled from those strange dreams I had last night and trying to figure out my feelings.

“I probably shouldn’t,” I whispered and she nodded, pulling back.

“You’re right. We probably shouldn’t. Here.” I nodded and she looked back down at her laptop. There was a breath of awkward silence and I wasn’t sure what to say.

“I’ll, um, go get your chai and your BLTA,” I said, getting up. I went back to the kitchen to get her order and brought it out.

Lacey was quiet as I set down the plate and handed her the chai cup. I hated to think it was something I’d done.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out. “I’m sorry about the kissing. It’s just . . .  you’re here and I want to kiss you, but you’re leaving. I know I said I was up for whatever, but I’m not sure if I am. I know that’s a bit like flip-flopping. Ugh, I don’t know what I’m trying to say.” I put my head in my hands.

A hand brushed my shoulder.

“It’s okay. Really. I didn’t think that this was going to be anything. There’s just . . .  there’s no time. For anything substantial and I don’t know if I can do anything with you that isn’t . . .  substantial.” That was how I felt, but it was kind of too late to be making this decision. I was already wading into a pool of feelings for her.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I said, sighing. Lacey sipped her chai and I let the music of the café distract me for a minute.

“Why does everything have to be so complicated?” she said, laughing a little.

“I don’t know. I think things get more complicated the older you get.” It was true, in my experience.

“I think you’re right.” She sighed and shook her head. “I wish my life wasn’t complicated. I think I’d like to try simple for a while. Instead of blowing around like a tumbleweed. I don’t even know if I could. But it would be interesting to try.” She turned her eyes on me and my stomach twisted with what she might be saying.

“Do you . . .  do you think you might want to stick around here? For a little while?” I didn’t have the right to ask her to be here since I wasn’t offering her anything. I couldn’t offer her anything. I still barely knew her. What I did know, I liked. A lot.

“I’m not sure. But I can at least stay for another week? Just . . .  take a break. I can’t remember the last time that I just sat around and did nothing. I’ve been working so hard for the past few years and I want to see if I can actually slow down and take a breath. This seems like as good a place as any. And it’s got a bonus. You’re here.” I felt myself blushing.

“Another week?”

“Another week.”

A lot could happen in a week.

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