“Yup.” I nod and smile. “Hey, I did not see this coming either. I really thought my story ended with Finn, you know?” I look at her expectantly. We’re at Grind Me, the coffee shop we both work at part time. The morning rush is over and I’m finally catching Sophie up on what’s been going on the past few weeks.
“Well, I did notice your fascination with Finn seemed to be completely in your own head,” Sophie says, refastening her hair tie.
I shrug. It’s true. What can I say? I pull out a roll of register receipt tape and peel back the glue keeping it from unwinding, preparing to swap out the roll that’s about to run out of receipt paper in the register.
“But there was no telling you anything,” she says, waving her hands in the air, “you were so determined that Professor Camden was the one, even though he made about as much sense for you as my gay ex-boyfriend made for me.”
“I’m very happy that I’m able to provide you with this smug moment,” I tell her as I make a face at her and drop the new receipt roll into the register and start the process of feeding it through.
“How the heck did Sawyer convince you though? You’re so stubborn.”
“I am not.”
She snorts.
I snap the register lid closed and turn to her, hands on hips. “I’m not stubborn, I’m just right most of the time. There’s a difference.” I blow out a dramatic huff.
Sophie sputters, puts down the cup she just took a sip from and covers her mouth with the back of her hand until she manages to swallow and regain herself. “Everly, you’re wrong all the time.”
“What? When?” I’m incredulous. Wrong, my ass. I tap my foot, waiting for proof.
“Well,” Sophie starts. “One.” She holds up a finger. “My ex Mike was not a nice guy. You thought he was nice.”
“You thought that too!”
“Two.” She holds up a second finger and waves it at me. “Professor Camden is not your soulmate.”
“Already established.” I wave my hand for her to continue with her case.
“Three.” She’s undeterred. “Boyd was not stalking me.”
“He sort of was,” I argue.
“Fine.” She shrugs. “Boyd was not stalking me because he wanted to ask me out.”
“I can’t predict everything. I’m not a fucking magician. Jesus.”
“Four.” She’s still counting on her fingers. Sigh. “Professor Brown did not kidnap you and chop off your hair to make a wig.”
“Yet.” That chick is weird. It’ll come out. I examine the ends of a strand of hair I’m twirling. My hair is incredible. I’d want a wig of it too, I admit. But still, she’s weird.
“And five.” Sophie’s waving her open palm around like a solo jazz hand while I glare and wait. “The iced grasshopper mocha did not put Grind Me out of business.”
“I thought they were going to use actual grasshoppers,” I mumble. Who came up with the name grasshopper to describe mint and chocolate? An idiot, that’s who. “Anyway, I was right about Luke. He is packing a donkey dick. You admitted that.” I’m all pointy-finger-in-her-face, delighted in my defense. “And I wasn’t wrong about the waxing.” I cross my arms across my chest, vindicated. “Tell me he doesn’t enjoy that.” Who’s smug now? This girl.
“Ahem.” We both stop and whirl to find her boyfriend Luke standing at the counter watching us. He looks amused, but a little befuddled. Sophie turns beet red, her eyes wide.
“Hey, Luke, nice to see you. Coffee?” I ask while Sophie slides around the counter to greet him. I watch as he drops a hand around her waist and bends to whisper something in her ear that has her ducking her head and blushing again. They really are adorable, I think as I grab a paper cup and sleeve it.