Between the Lines

- 19 -

Kendal

I am so exhausted the next morning that I finish the travel mug of coffee my dad left on the counter for me before I’m even out of our neighborhood, and I decide to brave the drive-thru line at the coffee place to get something stronger.

If it makes me late to first period, I’ll take that as a sign to call the whole day off and go back to bed.

I’m not really looking forward to seeing Kyle anyway, although at this point I can’t see any reason to keep prolonging the inevitable. Well, except for the fallout from breaking up with him right after I stood there and watched while Braden broke his finger.

I’ve just finished ordering a mocha with three extra shots when my phone dings.

Kyle: Just so you know, your new little friend actually did break my finger last night.

I sigh.

Me: That’s usually what it means when bones stick out at odd angles.

I’ve been a gymnast since I was three. Even back home, when we could only afford lessons at the community center, I still managed to learn what a broken bone looks like. And feels like. Three times.

Kyle: I can’t even drive.

Is he serious? He broke one finger. It’s entirely possible to operate a car with a broken arm.

Me: I guess you’re not going to school, then?

Kyle: Can’t. I’m going to stay home and watch movies on the big screen in the basement. My sister just bought that one movie you’ve been wanting to see… What are you up to?

Me: Going to school.

My phone dings again after I set it back down on the seat, but I don’t get a chance to answer it, because the line has moved disappointingly fast, and it’s my turn at the window.

I have a ten-dollar bill ready in my hand, but when I hold it out to the barista, he shakes his head and hands me my coffee. “Car in front of you paid,” he says.

I look, but whatever car was there a minute ago is gone now, and I wasn’t paying any attention to it at all. “Is this one of those pay-it-forward chains?” I ask. I love the idea of those, but in reality it always just seems awkward, and I’m never sure what to do.

He shrugs. “If you want, but I’m pretty sure that guy just wanted to buy your cup of coffee.” He leans forward, giving me a conspiratorial wink. “He was kind of cute. I’d let him.”

I smile back and say, “Thanks.” When he closes the window, I drop the ten in the tip jar.

No sooner have I driven around the corner of the building when I see the car, heading down the street in the direction of the high school. I’ve never paid attention to this old, beat-up car in the daylight before, but I know it’s his. Braden.

By the time I pull into the school parking lot, I’m wishing I’d thought ahead and ordered two cups.

If any morning called for extra elixir of life, this is that morning. I’m not even late; it’s still ten minutes before first period, so that excuse is out the window.

The first empty spot in the parking lot is – of course – right next to Braden’s car. If I’d gotten out of that drive-thru line any faster, I would have been stalking him, the way he apparently did to me last night.

Also, he’s standing there, leaning up against the trunk of his car, watching me as I pull in. He’s got one foot propped up against his bumper, pressing his knee out so he has a place to rest his coffee cup.

His light brown hair looks…different, somehow than usual. Like maybe he used something new when he swept the long locks in front to the side this morning. Apparently, he’s not as tired as I am. I only got as far as a ponytail and lip gloss. Even my contacts are in their case on my bathroom counter, and I’m wearing my glasses. I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone.

I almost want to wipe that amused, expectant smirk off his face. Or take a picture of it, because it’s actually kind of adorable.

I take another swig of life-force and climb out of my car.

“You have expensive taste in coffee,” he says.

“Yes, I do.” For emphasis, I take another drink. A long one. “Thank you, by the way.”

He smiles. “You’re welcome. I figured it was the least I could do to thank you for stopping your father from killing me last night.”

I frown. “It wasn’t that big a risk. He wasn’t even home yet.”

His foot drops to the ground and he looks at me with deep confusion. “No… I meant later, when he texted you.”

Now I really have no idea what he’s talking about. I pull my phone out of my bag and open the text-message menu. Ignoring whatever Kyle’s new message is about, I scroll to my dad’s name. But there’s nothing there I haven’t seen. The last message is the one from last night, telling me to go to bed.

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Is there something in that cup besides coffee?” I realize that when I say this to him, it’s a joke, unlike if I said it to Kyle. But still, he’s not making any sense.

He lifts the lid. “Nope. Just coffee.” He holds it out toward me so I can see that it’s full of sadly clear black coffee. But it is full, which is much less sad than my cup.

“Black?” I wrinkle my nose. “Gross.”

“It is,” he agrees. “Disgusting even. I’ve never ordered coffee in the drive-thru before – I didn’t even know how. It just seemed like a good morning to try, since I’ve been up all night, and this was cheap.”

I feel a little guilty now about my seven-dollar cup of coffee.

“There’s probably enough mocha at the bottom of my cup to make it a little better,” I offer.

His lip curls up at the edge, even though there’s a twinkle in his eye that makes me think he’s considering it. I have to stop looking, because I should not be thinking that’s adorable.

“That’s okay,” he says and holds the cup out far in front of him.

“No!” I yell, just before he turns it over and empties the precious substance onto the ground, and I pop the lid off my cup before grabbing his away from him. The mix of straight black coffee is not a perfect solution, but it’s much, much better than the “almost empty” situation I was facing a moment ago.

“What?” I say to his raised eyebrow. “It was a long night. I’m not going to let you waste it.”