“Willa? Why do I know that name?” Ty asks.
“Shit, wait. Willa? She’s your girl, the one from graduation, right?” Whit’s putting the pieces together.
“Yea,” I nod.
Ty’s face dawns with understanding. “Willa’s the one who got away? The girl who—”
“You can say it, Ty. I’m not fucking fragile. The one who gave me the best week of my fucking life and then ghosted me. Yes. And she was here today. In our house. She works for the cleaners, I guess. Anyway, she obviously didn’t know I live here. And I obviously wasn’t expecting her. So yea, I brought this girl home. We went up to my room and...you can guess the rest.”
“Shit,” Whit says, pouring a second shot.
“Right? But then I tried to talk to her and fuck, was she pissed.”
“Uh, this surprises you?” Ty looks at me like I’m crazy.
“I mean, yea. Look, I get why she’d be annoyed or pissy or whatever, but...this was different. This was like, deep-seated anger. She kept repeating that I said I didn’t want to talk to her. That I turned her away, which, what the fuck? She’s the one who left me. And now she won’t even talk to me. Won’t even give me a chance.”
“Look, I don’t wanna be a dick, but Knox, you knew this girl for what? A week? That’s hardly a solid foundation for getting to know someone. Maybe she really is batshit crazy, and you didn’t notice it because of your lust-induced haze.”
If Ty Marshall weren’t my best friend, I’d deck him. Instead, I shoot him a glare. “Oh really, Mr. Relationship Expert? A week isn’t a ‘solid foundation’? You hadn’t even spoken to Phoebe, and you were planning your goddamn future, so fuck you very much.”
“Kid has a point,” Whit defends me, even though I hate it when they call me “kid”. I’m only younger by a year for Christ’s sake.
Ty looks me in the eye. “So what are you gonna do about it?”
“I don’t know. I wanted to meet up for coffee, but she nearly passed out when I suggested it so—”
“Coffee. That’s it.” Ty’s eyes light up, and he looks like he just discovered the cure for a hangover.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Coffee. The coffee shop. The new barista is named Willa. She just started a couple months ago, but everybody loves her. It’s probably the same girl, right? I mean, what other Willas do we know? Besides Willa Cather, obviously.”
“Who the hell is Willa Cather?” Whit asks after taking a bite of ice cream.
“Nobody. Just one of the most important literary minds of the 20th century.”
I roll my eyes at him. “When’s Phoebe coming home?”
“Not til 7. Why?”
“I need to know if coffee shop Willa is my Willa.”
“This her?” Whit asks, shoving his phone in my face. There, on the screen, is Willa. Her long, wavy hair is up in a bun and the visor she wears is maroon with a little embroidered coffee cup next to the word Drip.
“Where the hell did you get this? Why do you have a picture of my girl on your phone, asshole?”
“Chill, dude. First off, she’s clearly not your girl. And I didn’t know she was ever your girl. I was just taking a picture of the drink menu the other day for Booker. He wanted to know what kind of green teas they had. The new barista just happened to be in the frame.”
“What time were you there?”
“Uh, like 11? But her schedule probably changes, right?” He asks as I tap on my phone. “What are you doing?”
“Setting my alarm. Looks like I’m getting up early enough to stop for coffee before class,” I tell them and pour myself one more shot. Can’t hurt. Hell, at this point, it might help.
Chapter 9
Willa
