Page 11 of A Hexcellent Chance to Fall in Love

Until the Store Closes

Christina

The scent of roasting coffee beans swirls around me and helps ignite my soul as I walk into Déjà Brew after a long day—and it won’t be ending anytime soon. At least I’m inside and away from the wind whipping around outside and the temperature dropping like a storm might be on its way.

I’ve known the haunted house was coming since before school started, and I thought I’d prepared properly, but I was so very wrong.

Per usual. And then I went and scheduled the kids to do monologues this week for a grade—they must be recorded and then posted—so I’m extra behind on all the things now.

Whoever said those who can’t do, teach, was a damn liar.

I’ve never done this much work before even in my corporate life.

Coffee. I need coffee. And maybe some pad Thai so I can get through the night. I haven’t had it since I went with Cami a few weeks ago, and ever since, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about mango sticky rice.

“Hey, Ms.L,” Steffi—a student in my second period—greets me at the counter of the coffee shop and pulls me out of my thoughts. “The usual?”

“I’m gonna need something a little stronger tonight, I think.

” This is my usual weeknight place when I’m on the hunt for an extra pick-me-up—and today I need it.

I glance up at the menu. What has the most caffeine but also won’t make me have a heart attack, and will still allow me to go to sleep when I need to?

“Let’s do the Toasted Marshmallow White Chocolate Mocha. ”

“Oh, that’s my favorite. Good pick.” She types on the register, and I search in my bag for my wallet. Crap. Where did I put it? Last night I’d been scrolling on social media when a well-targeted ad convinced me I needed a blanket that’s also a hoodie.

“Everything okay?” Steffi asks.

I set it on the pillow, and then Licorice jumped up, and then…“I left my wallet on the couch, it seems,” I tell her.

“Do you have your phone?” she asks.

“Oh my gosh. Yes. You’re brilliant.” I pull out my cell and open my wallet, tapping it against the card reader.

“I’ve lost my wallet twice this month already.” She laughs, but I’m not sure this fact makes me feel any better. “It’ll be up in a couple minutes; we just got hit with a huge online order.”

“No problem. I’ll be doing some grading while I wait.” I gesture to the seating area with my head as I slide my phone back into my bag.

“Does that mean the grades will be in tonight?” She leans forward, pressing her hands into the counter.

“If I get them all done, yes.” Which is why I’m at the coffee shop and not going home. If I were, I’d likely fall asleep as soon as I hit the couch.

“I’ll find you,” she says.

“Thanks,” I say, and head toward the back of the shop to grab a seat hopefully near an outlet. The school-issued laptop has the battery life of a fruit fly. Fruit. I also need to hit the store for more bananas.

Just like usual, the tables are full of kids, drinking things topped with loads of whipped cream. As I scan the area I usually post up at for the evening, there’s a familiar face sitting along the one wall close enough to enjoy the fireplace but not so close that it makes you get overheated.

Pepper raises a hand, smiles, and gestures to the empty seat at her table.

I smile back and make my way toward her. “You save the day again,” I tell her as I sit down. If she weren’t here, I’d be forced to go home tonight, and I have way too much work to do. I just wish the grading system weren’t so wonky and didn’t take forever.

“This is the hot spot in town, it seems,” she says as she glances around. Her smoky eye shadow really accentuates the blue of her eyes. Maybe she could teach me how she does that.

“Always is. And you picked the best table.” I drape my coat over the chair, reach into my bag, and pull out my laptop, plugging it in. “Not working tonight?” I ask.

“They occasionally let me out for good behavior.” She winks and something in my chest flutters. I’m more excited for my coffee than I thought. “Funny running into you,” she says.

“Small town,” I tell her. “It has its perks.”

“It most certainly does.” She smiles and it lights up her whole face—her cheeks are round like apples; I should get some of those at the store, too. “You have a lot of work to do?” She nods at my laptop and helps me refocus.

“Grading,” I say. “It’s never-ending. And this program we use makes it even more painful.”

“How so?” She takes a sip of her drink, her eyes watching me from over her mug.

“To post one grade, I have to click on each student individually and go into the assignment and then post the grade, which doesn’t seem like a lot, but it always takes a minute for each page to load, and then when you multiply that by the number of students I have…

” I let out a long breath. “It’s painful.

And takes forever.” That didn’t sound like whining, did it?

Real cute, Christina. Unload all your work stuff on the pretty Halloween store girl.

She presses her lips together like she’s debating if she should say something or not. “That does sound annoying.” Her brow wrinkles. “Are you sure there isn’t an easier way?”

“Not that I’m aware of. But it’s not like this program came with a user manual or anything.

” Who’d have thought that using teaching software would be more difficult than CAD tools?

It would be nice if there were some online tutorials or something, but so far I haven’t found any for this specific program.

She scrunches her nose. “Could you show me? I’m pretty good with computers, so maybe I could help?”

Is that allowed? I have no idea, but maybe this is one of those moments where you ask forgiveness later. Plus, she isn’t a parent hoping to see her kid’s grades. So if she really can figure it out, it would be worth it. “Promise not to tell my principal?”

She zips an imaginary zipper across her lips. “I don’t know anything.”

I scoot my chair over, open the laptop, and pivot it toward her so she can see the screen. After logging in to the program, I show her what I have to do. “See, it’s a pain in the butt, right?”

She studies the screen for a moment. “May I?” She gestures toward the laptop but doesn’t touch it.

“As long as you don’t delete everything.”

“I got you,” she says. She pivots the keyboard a little more toward her and navigates back to the home screen.

“You see this?” She points. “If you change the view, I think”—she clicks, and a moment later there are more options on the screen—“this’ll let you see the whole class at once.

” She clicks again. “And then you should just be able to go down the line.”

On the screen is my entire first period class in a grid view with the students lined down the side and the assignments across the top. “How did you know how to do that?”

She shrugs. “It’s not much different from the software we use at the store. I bet it’s made by the same company, too.” She chuckles.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised.” I shake my head and study the screen again. I can’t believe it’s that easy. “You have no idea how long I’ve been doing it the hard way. This is going to save me so much time.” I pivot the laptop my way and scroll through. “I could totally kiss you right now.”

Pepper’s eyebrows shoot up, and my face heats to the temperature of a thousand suns. What in the heckity heck would make me say such a thing?

“Here you go, Ms.L.” Thank god for Steffi. She sets my coffee on the table. “And sorry about the wait on this.” She places a plate with a slice of some kind of chocolate cake on it next to my large mug.

“No problem,” Pepper says. “I’m just glad you had a slice left.”

“Thank you,” I tell her—for the coffee and for the interruption.

“Steffi,” someone calls to her from the counter.

“Gotta run. Good luck with grading.” She struts off to the front of the shop.

Pepper is still looking at me—her expression unreadable. “You wouldn’t want to share this with me, would you?”

“I don’t know how much sharing will happen. Cake is one of my weaknesses.” Especially chocolate cake.

“There are worse things,” she says.

“Than a giant sweet tooth? I suppose.”

She grins. “You do have really nice teeth.”

“Braces when I was a teen.” I give her my best toothy smile. “Hated wearing them, but I’m kinda glad now that I did.”

She flashes her teeth at me. Her lips are a lovely shade of raspberry. “Same. Eating popcorn was a pain.”

“You weren’t supposed to eat popcorn with braces.”

“What can I say? I’m a rebel.” She pushes herself up. “I’ll go get us some forks.”

I didn’t even notice Steffi had forgotten that, but they’re really busy, plus it’s basically free cake, so who am I to complain?

By the time Pepper gets back to the table, I have all of first period graded and have started on second. This is seriously the best thing to happen to me today.

She hands me a spoon. “They were out, so this is what they gave me.” She sits with her shoulder bumping into mine—the connection sizzling down to my fingertips. Our chairs are still pushed together, but it would be rude to move away, plus we have cake to share.

Since I don’t want to seem too eager, I wait for her to cut off a piece first, then I dig in, getting just the right ratio of cake to what looks like buttercream frosting.

The spoon disappears into Pepper’s mouth, her eyes close for a moment, and then the spoon slides back out—her lipstick still in place.

“Mmm,” she says, and it sends tingles down to my toes.

I pop the bite into my mouth, and it’s like a chocolate explosion with a hint of what has to be Biscoff. “This is so good,” I say.

“Chocolate cake is one of the truest joys in life,” she says, and then she takes another bite.

“What kind of lipstick is that? If you don’t mind me asking.” Oh god. I just admitted with my whole chest to being fully invested in watching her eat. Not a weirdo thing at all.

The corner of her mouth perks up. “It’s called Juicy Berry by SHE Persists.”