Page 155 of When Ben Loved Tim

“Do you work tomorrow night?” she asks. “There’s a secret party at the dorms on campus. We could check it out together. Even if it’s lame, they never last long before getting busted.”

“Yeah, all right,” I reply, since it’s not really committing to anything.

Allison checks the clock. Then she swears. “I’ve gotta get to my study group.” She places her cup on the counter. “I’ll see you at home. Dinner will be on the stove, if I’m already asleep.”

“Okay. I’ll try not to wake the children.”

She never cooks for me. We don’t even have house plants. Living together feels more like a slumber party that never has to end. I’ve never been this happy in my life. Maybe I can think of a few moments. Although these days, I try not to, preferring to leave the past behind me. High school especially. When I look back on it now—the bullies, the name calling, and the cliques—it all seems so small and insignificant. College is a completely different experience. There are still fraternities and sororities for anyone who wants to continue obsessing over image and status, but most people I’ve met here are more interested in being themselves while pursuing their passion.

A family of four comes through the door. The first of the evening rush. I keep busy for the rest of my shift, grateful when it quiets down enough that I can start cleaning, so I won’t have to stay as late past closing time. I have some studying to do before my classes tomorrow, but it’s way more likely that I’ll put on some music and soak in a bubble bath. Eager to make this vision a reality, I start mopping the back room until I hear a ding that indicates a customer has entered the shop.

When I return to the front counter, a guy is standing there. He’s tall and blond. His green eyes dart from the menu above my head down to me. He flashes a smile, which I return. Then he consults the menu again. I use the opportunity to stare. He has big hands. I bet they’re warm. Mine are perpetually frozen when working here. The man looks a little older than me. He’s wearing khaki pants and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He must shop in the big and tall department, but only because of his height. His body is lean enough.

I’m eager to check out that friendly face again. When I do, I realize that he’s been watching me. I feel my cheeks flush, which makes him smile. His eyes dart up to the menu but don’t remain there long before they return to me. We laugh at the same time. I’m not sure why. All I can think is…

Here we go again!