Page 7 of A Hexcellent Chance to Fall in Love

Until the Store Closes

Christina

The sun is starting to touch the tops of the distant mountains as I follow Pepper and her Dead of Night hearse through town and past the haunted house—where I should be going but I’m not because a pretty girl said “tacos,” and, well, who am I to refuse an offer like that?

I’m getting way ahead of myself as usual.

She’s probably hungry and doesn’t know anyone else in town but the people she works with, and they’re all obviously working so why not ask out the lonely-looking girl?

I don’t look lonely, do I? Note to self: Make that hair appointment.

Maybe I should get bangs. Or maybe I should let my hair grow out longer.

Right now, it sweeps along the tops of my shoulders, the color of tofu. Maybe I should consider dyeing it?

I check my reflection in the rearview mirror. Sure, a trim would be nice, but there’s nothing glaringly wrong about my appearance, and luckily there isn’t anything stuck in my teeth. Wouldn’t that have been the icing on the cake?

Even though this is probably a case of being the closest available person when the hunger urge hit her, at least I won’t be having cereal for dinner, so I guess I should consider that the upside. Knowing my luck, I’ll probably end up with food poisoning, though, and I do not have time for that.

Why do I insist on doing this to myself? A question I likely will never know the answer to unless I get that therapist my best friend and colleague, Cami, says I need, but I haven’t had time to look into it yet.

The last time I’d even been out to a meal with anyone had been with Cami a couple of weeks ago. She’d gotten one of her pregnancy cravings—this time for Thai food—and those are something you never want to stand in the way of.

“What do you mean, you’ve never had mango sticky rice before? How have you never had it?” she had asked me as we walked up Persimmon Street.

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t know it was a thing until just now,” I told her.

“ You of all people? I thought dessert was your thing.” She swept her long, thick, dark hair back and wrapped it up with a clip as we passed the ice cream shop—the purple neon light reflecting off her stark white top.

It was unseasonably warm for an autumn evening.

I was glad I hadn’t even bothered doing anything with my own hair, instead wearing a baseball cap.

“Is fruit really dessert, though?” I asked.

At this she paused and spun around to look at me just as we’d gotten to the restaurant. The streetlight above us flickered. “Fair point. But we’re getting it.” She grabbed the handle and stumbled forward before jerking it back. “I hate this door.” She laughed.

“Or we could go get ice cream,” I countered.

“Or both.” She held the door open for me to walk inside.

That night Cami had taken the lead and had done all the ordering for us.

Tonight, I don’t even know where Pepper and I are going.

Will I like the food? Will I freeze up when it’s time to give my order like I did on the last date I went on?

It’ll definitely be weird if I turn around now, so I take a deep breath and keep driving.

A dusky sky and a crisp breeze greet me as I step out of my car on the far edge of Clover Creek.

I’ve never been over this way before—pretty much everything I ever need is right downtown.

Off the side of the road nestled among towering redwoods is a quaint little taco truck that has a healthy line waiting outside, a few picnic tables, and strings and strings of twinkle lights.

It’s actually kind of romantic in a way.

But that is definitely not what this is—I haven’t dated in years, and I’m sure it’s not this easy.

Other teachers in the lounge are always talking about the cesspool that is dating these days and how hard it is, so this definitely can’t be that. I shake my head.

“Holy Guacamole,” I say as Pepper comes up to meet me, my voice a little more high-pitched than usual. A sign nearby announces: Same great food, new location . Maybe that’s why I’ve never heard of it before. “Why’d you park so far away?”

She quirks her brow up at me. “Would you want to eat anywhere a hearse was parked out in front of?”

“Fair point. But it’s got the store name on it.”

She shrugs. “It’ll be easier to get out. Now come on, I’m starving.”

See—she’s just hungry. I don’t know why I work myself up so much.

Our feet crackle against the gravel and dried leaves as we make our way across the lot.

Another breeze rushes past, this time bringing with it the smell of an array of spices and cooking onions.

Aside from the truck, though, there’s nothing around.

No houses or stores. It’s almost as remote as you can get.

I assumed she was new to town—I’ve never seen her before today, but no one’s told me about this place.

Not that I have that many friends, but still.

The word has obviously gotten around from the queue that’s gathered.

“Lisa at the store said I had to come here,” she says like she can read my mind.

“Said they have the best tacos and that I had to try the pina colada horchata—but not to worry, because it’s nonalcoholic.

Since it’s a school night and all.” She winks.

“And the kimchi enchiladas are supposed to be amazing—if you like enchiladas and spicy things, that is.”

“I love both of those things actually.” I stop next to her at the back of the line.

For a new location, this place seems pretty popular.

Weird no one at school has mentioned it; although a number of the people here look like college students.

There is a community college nearby—I just haven’t gotten around to visiting it yet.

Not that it hasn’t been on my ever-growing list of things to do for a while now. Teacher of the year material over here.

“So, Christina.” The way my name rolls off her tongue like she’s memorized the feel of it in her mouth makes my toes tingle.

“Tell me what you do when you aren’t trying to scare the general public on the greatest holiday of all time.

” She smirks, probably recalling our conversation from earlier on how Halloween isn’t my favorite.

I study the chalkboard that lists all the things the truck has to offer, including chicken chorizo risotto and Mexican coleslaw. Oh, they have flan. “You mean teachers are supposed to have a life outside of the classroom?”

She chuckles like how Cami laughs at my jokes—like she really gets it.

“I’m pretty sure we’re all supposed to have a better work-life balance these days.

That’s what the young people call it at least, right?

” She winks again as she glances around.

Oh good, I’m not the only one who’s noticed we just increased the average age of the people here by at least ten years.

I grab hold of her arm. “We were never this young when we were in college, were we?”

“God, I hope not.”

And we both laugh. Any tension I had in my shoulders before slowly releases. It’s just so easy—so natural—to laugh with Pepper.

Her gaze shifts to my hand, still attached to her arm. Her skin is warm and soft under my grasp.

“I’m sorry.” I unwrap my fingers, my cheeks heating up. What the heck came over me?

She places her hand where mine just was, then pulls down her sleeve.

“It’s okay.” Her eyes connect with mine, and it’s not embarrassment that has my tongue tied inside my mouth.

She has the lightest freckle under her left eye just in the corner—or maybe it’s a little eye shadow that’s fallen out of place.

My fingers itch to find out. Another breeze passes, blowing her dark hair away from her face and showing off a pair of skeleton earrings—little bones dancing in the autumn air.

“Next,” the woman in the window calls, and Pepper steps forward.

“Kimchi enchiladas, an order of the falafel tacos, a side of chips, two pina colada horchatas, and a limoncello flan, too, please,” Pepper says. “You’ll share that with me, right?” she asks over her shoulder.

I nod, not that she’s looking in my direction as she hands over her card. It’s exactly the flavor I would’ve ordered from that list. Did I say out loud that I liked flan?

She collects her card and hands me one of the horchatas as she steps out of line.

“I was in the mood for something sweet,” she says.

“You don’t have to have any if you don’t want it, though.

No pressure.” She seems unsure of herself.

Maybe a little hesitant. Did I make things weird by holding on to her like that?

“No, I love flan,” I practically shout. OMG, be normal, Christina.

What the heck is wrong with you? It’s like I’ve never been out with another adult human before.

Yes, she’s beautiful, but that’s no reason to be weird.

She might not even be into girls like that and just looking for a friend.

Okay, now I’m being really weird. I take a deep breath and slowly release it.

Although dating would be so much easier if everyone wore pins or something. Could that be my million-dollar idea?

There’s a small grin on her face—like maybe she knows I’m lost in my thoughts again—as she gestures to a table off to the side and away from teens tossing chips at one another. “Shall we?”

I nod and follow her.

Pepper knocks a few dried leaves off the bench and sits down, totally oblivious to my social awkwardness.

She takes a sip of her drink and closes her eyes.

“Yummm…” The sound of her voice sizzles in my chest. She opens her eyes and there’s something serene in them, and she almost seems startled to find me watching her.

Staring isn’t weird at all. Maybe I should excuse myself now before I make this any worse.