Page 97 of Someone Like Me
I drop the bike lock and wrap her up, pulling her tight against me. It’s not the first kiss we’ve had today, but it’s the sweetest. Because she’s giving it to me, demanding with the tug of her hands, the thrust of her tongue, and the arch of her spine that I give it back.
So I do.
The jangle of a bell over the door pulls us apart.
“Oh! Morning!” A young woman smiles brightly at us. Her arm is the around waist of guy who gives me a knowing grin.
Evie clears her throat. “Morning,” she mutters, pink-faced.
The couple stride toward the only car in the lot, a 2018 Audi r8.
Helluva car.
The woman looks back at us over her shoulder. “Enjoy your breakfast,” she calls. “Best fair trade coffee in town!”
As the couple reaches their car, Evie pulls me inside. And for a restaurant attached to a gas station, it’s not bad. Not bad at all. There’s only a few tables, but each sports a stained and glazed wooden surface decorated with hand-painted designs.
A young guy behind the counter waves a greeting. “Be with y’all in a minute,” he says before disappearing into the kitchen. Over the sound system, a song I’ve heard at the garage is playing.
I like me better when I’m with you.
It’s mostly just the one line, sung over and over, but every time I’ve heard it, I’ve thought of Evie.
But then again, most songs I hear these days make me think of her.
I take a look around and see immediately why she likes this place. Beside the dish return is a table that appears to be dedicated to a crystal shrine. And on the other side of the kitchen is a sitting area with bookshelves, some handmade jewelry and essential oils for sale, and a basket of yoga mats.
Evie sees me eyeing them. “They have yoga classes here in the evenings. I’ve only been a couple of times, but isn’t that cool?” she says, sounding awed. “I mean, the whole place is dedicated to wellness.”
“It’s cool, Guppy.”
She sniffs her annoyance at my flat tone, but I know it’s not real. She’s trying too hard not to smile. I take her hand and thread my fingers through hers.
“You ready to eat?” I ask, eyeing the pastry cases at the counter.
“Yeah,” she steps up, tugging me with her, and plucks a laminated menu from a stand near the register. Her eyes run over it before she gives me a speculative stare.
“Do you like lattes?”
I almost choke on a laugh. “Babe, I’ve never had a latte.”
Evie’s eyes bug. “Really?”
I shrug. “Not many espresso machines on The River.”
That crease appears between her brows. “On The River?”
“Angola,” I say, dropping my voice. The guy still hasn’t come out of the kitchen, but I don’t want to embarrass Evie. “It’s surrounded on three sides by the Mississippi. It’s also called The Farm.”
“I’ve heard you call it that,” Evie says, looking chagrined. She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I must sound so clueless… And spoiled—”
“Evie.” I squeeze her hand. “You’re neither. Right now, I’m kinda glad I’ve never had a latte. I get to have my first one with you.”
A slow smile emerges, but she bites her lip. “You sure you really want me to order for you?”
I nod to the chalk menu on the wall. “You bet your ass. I have no idea whatJalisco Friesare.”
Her sassy, self-assured smirk returns. “They’re awesome is what they are.” Her head bob is emphatic. “But that’s on the lunch menu, which they don’t start serving until eleven.”
