Love at First Spark

3 | July: Can We Try That Again?

I met my best girl pal, Daphne, the next morning at our favorite coffee shop following a series of frantic text messages that I'd sent to her after bringing Eloise home. As usual, she showed up early and waved me over from where she was already sitting and sipping an iced latte with a blueberry scone and a cinnamon bun on a plate in the middle of the table.

I ordered a mocha frappe with extra whipped cream and walked over to her.

"So," she said, ripping off a large chunk of the cinnamon bun and stuffing it into her mouth, "what's the big emergency that required sustenance from the best coffee shop on the West Coast?"

Grinning, I sat down across from her. "At least let me have my coffee first." I sipped at my drink, a shiver running down my spine at the chill from the ice.

Daphne sat patiently across from me, her fingers teepeed together. "Are you ready now?"

"Yes." I took my fork and dug into my side of the blueberry muffin. "So, last night I went out with Eloise and her friends."

"Uh oh."

"Yeah, 'uh oh' is right." I relayed to her the story, from meeting Braden and dancing together, to Eloise's slip up and the lack of a goodnight kiss I somehow now realized I had wanted from him. When I was done, Daphne leaned back in her seat, chewing on her straw.

"Sounds like a hell of a guy," she said.

"That's it? That's all you have to say? I barely know him. Knew him. And now I never will," I said.

"That's not entirely true," Daph countered. "You could always go back to the bar and get his information from the bartender. I mean, the guy probably paid for drinks with a credit card, right?"

"True." I pulled out my phone, surprised to see that there was a set of messages from last night that I hadn't noticed before. "Except, I might already have his number." I turned the screen to show her.

"That's great!" she rubbed her hands together then wiggled her fingers in a gesture, asking me to hand the phone over.

"Nuh uh, Daph. Scooch. I wanna see everything you type before I even think about agreeing to let you send him a message."

Reluctantly, my friend moved over and I slid into the booth beside her. My heart pounded in my chest. What were the chances this guy didn't want to hear from me ever again? I'd clearly been just using him to scratch an itch but the chemistry I felt when we were dancing together was real.

Real enough, that is, for me to still be obsessing over it now. Add in my soberness last night and...

Daphne's fingers flew over the keyboard, typing out a message. It was only when I leaned over her shoulder that I saw just how long she'd made it.

"Daph, no." I reached for the phone but she snatched it away and shook her head.

"I know you, Ames," she said. "If I give you back the phone, you're just going to erase the message and leave the 'what if' hanging over your head. At least if I help, you have a chance of him responding because they'll be something to respond to."

I slumped back in the booth, sipping the rest of my coffee while I waited. When she was done, she turned the phone to face me and I scanned the screen. After a few minutes of debating and arguing over ways to edit the message so it felt more 'me', I sent it.

Braden, hey. I wanted to tell you I'm so sorry for what happened last night. I did have fun with you and I wish maybe we could start over? If you're interested—and I totally understand if you're not—meet me at Sweet Escape, the ice cream shop on Kibbard Street, at 3pm tomorrow. I hope to see you. - Amelia