6. Dani

I am so glad that I have the day off.

My head was still pounding like a jackhammer from what was quite possibly the worst hangover I've ever had—at the very least it makes the top five list. I honestly don't know how Rose can party like that and then go to work the next day as if it were nothing. Either she drinks too much, or I don't drink nearly enough.

Was it at least a good night? Everything was still a little foggy, like a dream that I'm too sleepy to remember. I hope I didn't do anything too embarrassing, though if I did then I'm sure Rose wouldn't hesitate to remind me.

With a yawn I stretch out in the bed, cotton sheets brushing against my skin as I slowly crack open my eyes. Rays of sunlight slip in between the slats in my blinds and paint golden splotches on the tawny walls of my bedroom and I fight off a grimace. I didn't even have to look at my watch to know that it was far too early for me to be waking up, especially after such a late night.

My stomach rumbles, reminding me that I didn't eat much yesterday, and a frustrated groan rattles in my throat. My bed was far too comfortable for me to leave and I had no desire to rummage through my sparse collection of microwavable meals at this hour. Maybe I could pick something up later.

A small ping! sounds from the corner of the room and as I spare a quick glance at the laptop sitting open atop a tiny writing desk, my eye catches on a stack of school books off to the side and a pang of guilt thumps in my chest. I should probably try to reapply for financial aid. I still had time to fill out the forms if I wanted to make the fall deadline. 'A year off is more than enough time to figure things out,' my mom would say, and I only had three semesters left. I really should just finish.

Or I can roll over and go back to sleep for a few more hours. My head was still killing me, my bed was holding me hostage or my computer was too far. Any of those excuses would work, and as I pull the sheets up and wiggle myself further into the mattress's warmth I decide that this was the best decision I could make right now. I had nowhere to be today, so why bother getting out of bed?

My phone buzzes on the bedside table and I let out another groan as I reach over and grab it. I briefly make a note of the time—who in their right mind would be up at 9:38 a.m. on a Sunday?—before a blurb of text scrolls across the screen.

Rose: Red's looking for you.

My heart skips a few beats and I bolt straight up, wincing as my head vehemently objects to the sudden movement.

Ashe was looking for me? Like, asked specifically for me. At my place of work. By name. Was that a bad thing? A good thing? Wait, why was she looking for me?

Rose: Said she wants to talk about last night.

I swear that chick can read my mind. But, last night? What happened last night? Did I embarrass myself? Knowing my track record, that was highly plausible at this point. Oh God, I hope I didn't embarrass myself.

I sit in silence for a moment, the phone dangling limply in my hand as I try to sift through the fog and replay last night's events in my head. It was like trying to remember the best parts of a long-forgotten movie, all fuzzy and unsure, but as the memories flickered to life the wild beating of my heart quickened with each scene.

I can almost feel the heat of Ashe's warmth as our bodies pressed together in rhythmic dance, my skin prickling and shivers racing up my spine as velvety fingers brushed over my arms. To say that I was only mildly aroused in those fleeting moments would have been the biggest understatement of the century.

I remember her angular face, framed by wavy auburn locks, hovering so teasingly close to mine. The scent of vanilla and whiskey on her breath had been intoxicating and I still find myself wondering what her lips might have tasted like. But the enchanting moment quickly fades and I have to nearly repress a chill as I recall the cold, unnerving gaze of her devilish companion as she regarded me with a frightening hunger. Her touch was just as chilling, like ice to bone, and completely unlike Ashe's gentle caress that seemed to leave a trail of fire in its wake.

Pressing on through the barrage of memories as I continue to piece the night together, I distinctly remember the sound of tires screeching and a horn blaring in the still night air. The scene makes my heart race and my skin crawl, as if I was lying right back in the middle of that street.

I can almost envision piercing hazel eyes boring holes into mine as we flew away from danger, our path to safety illuminated by a heavenly blue glow, like we were in the middle of a big action movie and I was some damsel in need of divine rescuing. Normally I would resent that notion but, given my near-death experience and the circumstances which found me once more in Ashe's arms, I was not about to complain.

Lastly, regrettably, I recall seeing her broken arm and having the overwhelming urge to regurgitate my drinks, and the surprising restraint I had to wait until I at least made it back to my apartment. Rose had taken off shortly after that, only staying long enough to help me change out of my clothes and crawl into bed.

As the hazy montage comes to an end, I was pretty sure that I had been dancing with a goddess and was saved by an angel in the span of an hour. Did that make me lucky or delusional? Possibly both?

Rose: She just left. Girl, I need deets!

My stomach gurgles again, a voracious reminder that I'm still hungry, and I reluctantly climb out of bed. There was no point in trying to sleep now; I doubt I could even if I tried. I really wanted to know why Ashe was looking for me and I might as well grab some breakfast while I interrogated Rose.

Me: On my way.

I throw on the cleanest outfit I can find, mentally berating myself for not doing the laundry earlier in the week like I should have, and am about to leave when a flash of silver on the dresser catches my eye. Curious, I walk over and pick up the trinket.

It was a plain silver ring with a strip of crushed sapphire inlaid in its center. When I hold it up to the light for closer inspection, the ring dangling from the simple chain it was looped around, the sapphire band seemed to glow and flicker like liquid fire and as it spun I could make out intricate runic patterns engraved on the inside. It was beautifully crafted and looked much more expensive than anything I could afford.

Where did I—

Oh, right. This must have fallen off of Ashe's neck last night. Is this why she was looking for me this morning? Because I had her ring?

A small part of me had genuinely hoped that she just wanted to see me and my heart sinks a little in my chest. No, of course she would want her jewelry back. It was probably sentimental or something, and she probably didn't appreciate it being in the hands of a barista she barely knew from a coffee shop she occasionally frequents.

Still, at least by it being in my possession I was able to return it to her. Maybe she would appreciate that I kept it safe. If anything, returning it will give me another chance to talk to her. Our last two attempts at conversation didn't exactly go as I had planned and they say the third time's the charm. Maybe this will work out in my favor.

With a self-assured nod, I pocket the ring and exit my apartment.

Thankfully, I didn't live very far from Café Roasted. My complex was actually halfway between work and the university's east campus, which would be great once I resubmitted my application for the fall. I didn't have a car at the moment but most of the places I needed to go were within either walking or biking distance, and there was always the bus for longer trips. Or Rose and her trusty little sedan.

Today looked like it was a nice enough day for a walk, though, and walking may very well ease my headache.

But looked from outside a window was a lot different than how it felt once I stepped out of the air conditioned building and set off down the street. Even for a mid morning in May, the sun was already beating down over northeast Trinity Valley.

I quickly throw my hair up into a high ponytail, wishing I had the foresight to grab sunglasses or a baseball cap as I squinted against the glaring sunlight reflecting off of every shiny surface that I strolled past. At least the blue jean shorts and tank top I had on were summery enough.

Small beads of sweat dot my brow by the time I make the fifteen-minute trek to the café. A blast of cool air washes over me as I pull open the door and I smile in sweet relief.

“Dani!”

I readjust the satchel strap slung over my shoulder and wave at the bubbly blonde behind the counter. Next to her, two men were busy making drinks for the line of customers at the drive-thru.

As I approach the counter one of the men glances up from the espresso machine, his peppered black hair poking out from under a brown ball cap. “Danika,” he greets, swinging the mic boom of his headset up as he peers at me over the rim of his glasses. “Don't you have a life outside of work?”

My stomach grumbles loudly, as if on cue, and I flash David a sheepish grin. “Just thought I'd exercise my employee discount today.”

Before he can reply, the younger man walks around from the direction of the kitchen with a white to-go bag in hand. “It's croissant Sunday, pop!” Peter says with boyish enthusiasm as he sets the bag down on the counter. “You know no one can resist these babies. They should make it a national holiday with how popular they are.”

I notice my name scrawled across the front in Rose's bold cursive and my grin widens. Bless you, you beautiful blonde.

David was an excellent baker, but his homemade croissants were a local legend. Buttery and flaky, he stuffed them with all manner of delicacies. While the pistachio raspberry and Swiss ham were two of the café favorites, my go-to was always the cream cheese croissant with a chocolate drizzle and powdered sugar coating. If heaven had a flavor, I imagine it would taste a little something like that.

“Jesus Christ, it's already Sunday?”

“See?” I say as I retrieve my wallet from the depths of my satchel. “This is a sign that you work too much. Would a day off kill you?”

“What, and leave my store in your capable hands? Or my son's?” David snorts as he rings up my order. “Not a chance.”

I finish paying and slip behind the counter. Even on my days off, when I do stop by the shop for a bite, I normally eat in the break room. David never minds and he rarely ever bothers me. Besides, I still needed to interrogate Rose and I wasn't about to do so out in the open.

“I'm taking my break, David!” I hear Rose call out, and moments later she plops herself in the chair across from me. “Like what I got you?” she asks as I open my bag and pull out the contents: a cream cheese croissant and a blueberry muffin.

“It's like you know the way to my heart.” I pretend to wipe a tear from my eye with about as much flourish as a Hollywood actress.

“Careful, smart-ass, that was the last one. I had to fight off an old lady for it.” She takes off her cap and slaps it onto the table with a snigger. “My love has no limits, Dani girl.”

I laugh as I rip off a chunk of the croissant. “You're such a dork.”

Rose waves a dismissive hand and leans back. “Speaking of love, what happened last night that Red came in here looking for you?”

I pause mid-chew. Straight to the point. Wasn't I supposed to be the one doing the interrogating, here?

Carefully, I swallow my food and meet Rose's inquisitive gaze. “I was hoping you'd tell me.” I tear off another chunk. “What did she say?”

“Not much.” Rose shrugs. “We were slammed so she didn't stay long. She didn't even order anything, just asked if you were in and then left when I said no.”

My lips curl into a frown as I nibble thoughtfully on the last bite of my croissant. She didn't even leave a number or mention anything at all about why she was looking for me. Maybe she was in a rush? Or did I embarrass myself that badly?

“I guess she really was only looking for her ring.” I hear the words leave my lips and I mentally curse. I hope Rose didn't hear that—

“Hold up,” Rose says, leaning forward with sudden interest and striking down my wishful thinking like it was nothing. “Her what?”

Dammit.

I take a bite out of the muffin, in no rush to shed any light on this revelation. But at Rose's persistent gaze I relent. “Don't judge me,” I warn as I reach into my pocket and pull out the trinket. “I'm not a thief. It was an accident.”

Rose takes the necklace from my hand and holds it up to the florescent light, turning it over like a jeweler examining their handiwork. Her brow furrows as she scrutinizes every detail, a low whistle escaping her lips in what I assume is a sound of approval as she finally sets it down and smirks.

“Damn, a ring after only one date? You lesbians really do move fast. I'm lucky if a guy buys me flowers after—”

“Thanks, Rose.” I roll my eyes. “But I wouldn't exactly call last night a date. And she didn't give it to me, it sort of . . . fell into my hands.” How else was I supposed to explain what happened? I wasn't even clear on exactly what happened.

“And what, pray tell, were those hands doing that it fell so easily?” Rose waggles her eyebrows, grinning widely as a heat flushes my cheeks.

“N-nothing, you perv! It wasn't like that!” Unfortunately. Eager to change the subject, and out of a small sense of curiosity, I lean forward. “Hey, how was her arm?”

Rose blinks. “Her arm?”

“Yeah. Her, uh, her arm was injured. I think it might've been broken.” If I saw her again soon, I should offer to sign her cast. Maybe I could even leave my number—in an invitation of friendship, of course. Despite what I perceived to be a display of guarded caution from Ashe during our brief exchange with her, Catalina was still somewhat in the picture. Whatever she was to the redhead, I'd rather not make an enemy of her just yet.

Rose purses her lips in thought. “Her arms seemed fine this morning,” she says after a moment. “Definitely not broken. Why, were they supposed to be sore or something?” She smirks as the blush in my cheeks deepens.

“Nevermind,” I groan as I pop the last bite of muffin into my mouth. She was unbearable sometimes.

As I chewed—slowly, deliberately, if only to avoid talking for a few more seconds and allow the heat in my face to cool—my thoughts turn to last night.

Ashe's arm had looked very much broken. It just hung there by her side, limp as a goddamn cooked noodle, how could it not be broken? But if she did break her arm, which Rose clearly just denied, then that means the car would have been traveling much faster than it should have been. Wouldn't that have killed us? It's not like she used her body to stop a speeding vehicle as if she were superhuman or something.

No, I had been drunk. My perception was off. The car barely tapped us and Ashe pulled us into the alley for safety—and to save me from further embarrassment, probably. I mean come on, I was lying in the middle of the street for God's sake. It was the only explanation that made a lick of sense.

“Why are you so infatuated with her, anyway?” Rose asks suddenly, drawing my attention. “I mean yeah, I get it. She's the first girl since Monica that you feel attracted to and, bonus, she's hot. Woo-hoo. But she's been coming in here for six months now and has barely made an effort to talk to you, and when you finally get the chance to make more than just a cup of coffee for her she runs you out of the club in tears!”

“Actually, it was Catalina who ran me out.” And I wasn't crying.

“Who the fuck is Catalina?”

“No one, it doesn't matter.” I huff, combing my fingers through the tangled ends of my hair in frustration. In my rush to get over here I had forgotten all manner of proper morning etiquette, like brushing my teeth or showering, and suddenly I felt hyperaware of my appearance. Naked, almost, exposed and vulnerable.

A moment of honest clarity washes over me and I slump forward, a sigh escaping my nose as my gaze drops to the ring lying on the table between us. “I don't know why I'm interested in her, Rose, but I feel drawn to her. Have been for months now, ever since I first saw her. I can't really explain it, but last night while we were dancing it was the safest I've ever felt. Like I belonged in those arms. It just . . . It felt right.” I glance back up, searching my friend's expression for even the slightest hint of understanding. I needed confirmation that, whatever this feeling was, I wasn't crazy for feeling it. “Do you know what I mean?”

“No, I don't think I do.” Rose hums, a devious smirk curling the corner of her lips. “You've got it bad, Dani girl.”

“Got what bad?”

“You, my friend, are suffering from a bad case of 'lust at first sight'. I'm afraid it's terminal. Oh, don't worry though, I'll make sure your eulogy is epic.” She quirks a brow. “Is it possible to die from sex deprivation, doctor?”

I chuck my crumpled napkin at her, eliciting a laugh from the blonde. “Dick,” I mutter, but even I find myself laughing at her antics.

In the two years that I've known her, Rose has always had a way about her that was both endearing and infuriating. Monica never did get her sense of humor and for that a little part of me was actually glad. In a world where everything had been ours at one point—our mutual friends, our apartment that I was now stuck paying rent on, our movie collection that apparently ended up being only hers when she left—it was nice to know that one small thing had always been mine.

“You just need to get laid,” Rose says, the mischievous glint in her eyes contrasting with the profundity of her tone. “It's the only cure. Either sleep with Red and work out this lusty obsession you have with her, or sleep with some rando and let go of all that repressed sexual frustration you've been building up. Come on, Dani, you owe it to your libido.”

“I've been intimate enough, thank you.” I make a face at her, trying my best to muster a look of disgust, but I'm pretty sure my smile ruins the effect. “Why does everything always come down to sex with you?”

“Because I didn't take a vow of chastity and neither did you.”

David walks in before I can think of a clever retort. “Break's over, Rosalie.”

Rose scrunches her nose. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that, David?” she groans, and a snicker tickles my throat. Rose never did like to use her full name, no matter how pretty it sounded. “It's so formal.”

David merely shrugs as he removes his apron and hangs it on the wall without so much as a glance in our direction. “I'm headed out for the day. Peter's in charge. Danika, glad you enjoyed your breakfast. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Rose places a hand over her heart and feigns a look of anguish. “You trust Peter to close up over me? I'm hurt, David!”

“You don't have to come home and report to me at the end of the day. Besides, Tammy will be in later to balance the books.” He twirls his keys in his hand and slips through the back door, unfazed.

“Well,” Rose chuckles, “he's got a point. Must suck working for your parents and still having to live with them.” She places the cap back on her head and stands up. “Guess I should head back out there before people start rioting. God knows Peter can't make a decent cup of coffee to save his life.” Pulling me into a quick hug, she straightens her apron before making her way back to the counter. “I'll text you later, Dani girl! Maybe we can hang?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” I pick up the ring, glancing it over one last time before shoving it back in my pocket and heading out.

It was still early and I didn't feel like retiring back to my apartment and brooding for the rest of the day. I was still bothered by our conversation. Was I really that obsessed with Ashe? Am I that damaged from Monica that I've latched on to the first woman who piques my interest—and, according to Rose, my libido?

I still have her ring. If I see her again when she swings by for her usual coffee stop on Tuesday then I'll give it back and try to talk to her. Just one last chance, one more shot at seeing if there's something there between us. If there isn't then at least I'll be able to finally move on from whatever this feeling is.

I just need to know before the weight of not knowing kills me.