Elodie
I shove my phone in my pocket as the bell above the door at Sweet & Salty rings Wednesday morning, setting aside my check-ins with Ruby and Sol in order to greet our newest customer—Soren.
“Elodie!” he hollers across the shop floor. “You’re here!”
Ah. I see what Roman meant about yelling through the gas station. Maybe itisa tad obnoxious. “Hello, Soren.” I smile. “What can I get for you?”
“Got anything sweet?” He winks. “I loved what you gave me last time.”
What I gave him last time. Which I definitely remember. Because I don’t see hundreds of people or thousands of orders a day or anything. “We can figure something out for you no problem! Any specific flavors you’re leaning toward today?”
“Sweet, I—oh. Hello, Soren.” Roman comes up behind me with a tray of… lunch sandwiches?
I eye him. Uh huh. Because we need to put out the lunch sandwiches. At 9:30 A.M. Sly, Salty. Sly.
“Hey! It’s my twin!” Soren beams. “I haven’t seen you since the mirror this morning!”
Soren laughs while I smile awkwardly and Roman… stares. Unblinking, unsmiling, and unwelcoming.
Yikes.
Soren doesn’t seem to notice. He does, however, notice whenRoman takes a step toward me, putting himself practically on top of me. “Ahhhh,” Soren says, eyes twinkling. He waggles his eyebrows at us. “I see, I see.” He winks at me. “I knew you had good taste.”
Oof. Oof, oof, oof.
Talk about awkward.
“Speaking of taste!” I blurt. “How about a blackberry galette before they’re gone for the season?”
“That sounds great!”
Great, Perfect. Ten seconds, and I can have him out of this store.
In reality, it takes me thirty, during which Soren talks at Roman while Roman attempts to keep theyou’ve kissed the girl I love and I haven’toff of his jealous, jealous face.
He does not succeed.
“Bye, Soren,” he says as the other man turns to leave, waving a jaunty farewell and winking at me again.
Once he’s gone, I poke at Roman’s sandwiches. “You’re real smooth, you know that.”
“You know, it’s actually a good thing you made out with that guy.”
“It was barely a peck!”
“We already knew you think I’m hot, but now we know you think I’m hotandkissable.”
“Was that a secret?” I ask. “When I was practically falling all over you in the gas station?”
His lips quirk as he straightens, chest puffing. “You were falling all over me, weren’t you?”
“Your attractiveness is not in question,” I conclude. “It’s your personality I’m less sure about.”
“That’s under construction,” he reminds me.
Mmhm. But will it end up better than before? Or will we have a roundabout where we should have had a stoplight? “I hope theconstruction goes well. I also hope you’re not doing itjustfor me.”
He tsks. “Not everything is about you, Sweet. This thing, in particular, is only… a quarter about you. Two thirds, maybe.”
