“Please tell me you heard from CAL so I don’t have to listen to you whine about it to my grandmother anymore,” she quips and applies a fresh coat of pink lipstick in the hand mirror she keeps next to the register. “I’m so glad I was accepted early to the University of San Francisco. All this waiting must really suck for you.” Mary loves to throw her early admission in my face. I decide to take the high road and ignore her snide comment. It makes my shift a lot smoother when I don’t try to defend myself.

I pull a cup from the order line and wonder how long it’s been sitting up here. Customer service isn’t a high priority at Eureka Coffee. Most of our customers are friends of Patty’s. They don’t mind waiting ten minutes for their order if the gossip is good. The café is small. There are only seven tables inside and four outside, and they’re all full. It’s very rare to find an empty table at this time of day.

I make a large vanilla latte, set the cup on the counter, and reach for a lid to find there are none. God forbid Mary restocks the counter. I tell the customer to hold on and head to the storeroom. I’m only gone a few seconds when a piercing squeal that resembles my name echoes through the café. Mary has only one physical flaw, her voice. She sounds like a three-year-old that sucked all the helium out of a balloon. I would take my time, but I don’t want to torture the customers. I grab a stack of lids and hurry back.

“There’s a line.” Mary spins on the stool at the register, and her thick black hair floats behind her like a super hero cape.

“Thank you Captain Obvious.” I toss the lids on the counter and go back to work.

I get three cappuccinos and a large Americano out in record time. I’m working on my fourth cup when I hear someone say, “Excuse me, can I have extra foam on that?”

“No problem,” I reply without looking up as I pour the steamed milk into a cup and add a dollop of extra foam on top. “Small latte, with extra foam.” I place the cup on the counter and start on the next order.

“Thanks,” says the voice. This time I recognize it.

I whip my ahead around and see Nick Marino standing in front of me.

“Hi, I uh, I mean, you’re welcome.” I look behind him to make sure Katie isn’t in the corner with a dart gun ready to take me out. I also kind of hoped to see Matt. But Nick’s alone. Totally alone and talking to me.

“What time do you get off? Can I give you a ride home?”

Holy hell, Nick Marino is offering me a ride. First Matt and now Nick. I wonder if Matt knows he’s here. I wonder why I even care what Matt thinks. He isn’t the one standing here with a smile that could melt an iceberg. For all I know, Matt was setting me up with Nick yesterday. That doesn’t change the fact that I sort of like Matt. Even if he doesn’t like me. I don’t have time to debate this. Nick is waiting for an answer. “A ride would be awesome,” I say with way more enthusiasm than called for.

“Ok, let’s get back to work.” Patty steps between the counter and my view of Nick. “She gets off at eight, hot shot.”

Nick nods politely at Patty, then looks around her and smiles at me. He takes two backwards steps, holding my gaze, then turns around and leaves. When the door closes, every female in the café exhales. Mary looks at me like I’ve just sprouted horns and a tail. I escape to the bathroom before she can launch into her interrogation.

The lighting in here is a lot better than the bathroom at school. It doesn’t make me look like the undead, but I’m still me. Boring. Weird. Me. My nails are too short, my chest is too small, and I have on the same socks I wore yesterday. Why the hell would Nick Marino ask me out? I know I shouldn’t care or even think about Matt, but I do. For an hour I agonized over the idea that Matt was interested in me, and I liked that feeling. I definitely felt something. Although, it could’ve been the egg salad sandwich I ate for lunch. None of that matters now, because I was totally wrong. Matt didn’t invite me to the parking lot to ask me out, he was setting me up with Nick. I didn’t see that yesterday because I obviously suck at boys. Ok, so Matt doesn’t like me. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel something for him. His smile, those eyes. I sigh just thinking about him. Do I just ignore the tingles he gives me? Forget all the juvenile fantasies I have about Matt and horses and happily ever after just because Nick Marino asked me out?

Yes. Hell to the yes. I have an opportunity to spend six or seven minutes alone with Nick Marino and I’m taking it.

As soon as I step out of the bathroom, Mary slides off her stool and meets me at the train. Patty calls the espresso machine the train because of its steaming process. Her late husband was a train collector; they visited dozens of railroad museums, and he preferred the old steam trains over all the others.

“Why is Nick Marino talking to you?” Mary crosses her arms and leans her hip against the counter.

“How did you know that was Nick Marino?” Mary’s overprotective parents barely let her out of the house to work here. I doubt she’s ever crossed paths with him.

“Everyone knows who Nick is. He’s the grandson of Mariann Marino, owner of JM Developers; they only own half the real estate in the county and the largest construction company in California.” Mary rolls her eyes. “So what, are you tutoring him or something?”

Mary doesn’t believe a guy like Nick would be interested in me. I don’t believe it either, but I’m not going to let her ruin the moment. “I know him from school.” Sort of. “We hung out at the Rack Room on Friday.” I push her aside. “He was just offering me a ride home.”

Mary’s eyes widen. “You went to the Rack Room. With Nick Marino?” The bells above the door jingle, and three women from the neighboring health food store walk in. Unlike most of our clientele, they’re always in a hurry to get back to work.

“We have customers.”

“Fine,” Mary scowls and returns to her perch. I catch her eyeing me the rest of my shift like she’s trying to figure out how I managed to fool Nick Marino into thinking I’m someone he wants to hang out with. You and me both, sister.

Somewhere around seven o’clock, I stop trying to analyze why Nick has offered me a ride home and whether or not Matt had anything to do with it, and I start to freak out. Questions, doubts, and nightmares flood my brain. Did he come into the café knowing I would be here? Does that mean he was thinking about me? My heart does this thing where it stops beating for a minute then bounces against my chest like a mental patient trying to escape capture. I don’t like Nick. I don’t want to like him. Being with someone like Nick means being on everyone’s radar. I like to fly low, real low. So far below the radar that nobody knows I exist. I’m overanalyzing this. He offered me a ride home, that’s it. I’ll take the ride, thank him, and say goodnight. This doesn’t have to turn into something it’s not.

At five minutes to eight, Nick’s car pulls in front of the café. I say goodbye to Patty and ignore Mary’s dirty look. I open the door and walk through it as if I’m walking through a portal to a land where someone like Nick Marino is waiting for someone like me to get off work. This is a fairy tale moment if I’ve ever seen one. Or not. Maybe it’s just a really nice guy offering a really pathetic girl a ride home.

Nick’s leaning against the passenger door in a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. His arms are crossed over his chest like one of those old photos of James Dean. Holy hell.

“Hey Dani.” He smiles and opens the door for me. I say hi without meeting his eyes.

Nick gets in and starts the car. A classic rock song blares from the speakers. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes and turns the music down.