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I enter the coffeeshop with my laptop in tow, ready to order my favorite drink—an iced white chocolate mocha with lavender and vanilla infused milk. The lavender, at first, made me avoid the drink, and I always ordered something else. Eventually, though, I gave in.
And never looked back.
The coffee shop is local. Beautifully decorated, with a massive dark gray wall and gorgeous, vibrant pink and white flowers painted on it. Music plays softly in the background and there are a lot of people sitting at the tables scattered about. It’s a popular place, one I only just discovered when I moved here.
I order my drink and head for the pickup counter, nearly running into someone on my way.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, glancing up to find Carson smiling down at me.
“We keep doing this,” he says, his voice light. Teasing.
I laugh. “Yeah, we do. Are we both klutzes?”
“Probably. I know I am.” The smile never leaves his face. “I’m glad I ran into you. Again.”
“Me too. Though I’m really here to do homework.” I pat my laptop bag. “What about you?”
“I was just stopping by for a drink real quick.” He hesitates for only a moment. “Mind if I join you?”
“Yes. You should.” I like Carson. Talking to him helps me forget about Jackson.
We get our drinks and find a table, right up against the wall of windows that are at the front of the building. We discuss what we like to drink here, and how much he hates the lavender drink, which I get since it’s an acquired taste.
“What are you up to today?” I ask, once we’re finished squabbling over superior coffee drinks.
“I was just at my parents’ house,” he says. “They live not too far from here.”
It’s a nicer part of town. Lots of older, larger houses in quiet, tree-filled subdivisions. “I love the neighborhoods around here. Do you get along with your parents?”
“Oh yeah. They’re all right. My dad can be tough sometimes. He has all of these expectations,” he says, rolling his eyes.
“I get that,” I say, smiling at him.
“What about yours?” he asks.
“They’re very supportive, but they don’t have a lot of money, so I had to really work to convince them I wanted to go to Fresno State. They’d rather I go to community college first, which I totally get, but I wanted the campus-life experience, you know? So I worked hard, maintained a solid grade point average, got into Fresno State, won some grants and community scholarships, and now here I am,” I explain.
“You’re the type who doesn’t hesitate to go after what you want, huh?” he says, his gaze full of admiration.
I would never, ever describe myself like that but when he puts it that way…
“Yeah. I guess you’re right,” I say softly, my mind turning his words over and over again.
“Are you from around here?” he asks.
“I grew up in the foothills above Fresno,” I say. “Close to Yosemite.”
“Nice. It’s beautiful up there,” he says, nodding. “We went up to Yosemite a lot when I was younger. My parents like to hike and camp.”
“The park is amazing,” I agree. “But we rarely visited. When it’s in your back yard, you let the tourists have it. At least, that’s what my parents always said.”
He chuckles. “Figures. When I was little, I wanted to live there.”
“Ugh, no you didn’t,” I tease, making him grin.
“Do you have brothers or sisters?” he asks.
“I have two sisters. They’re a lot older than me. They already have kids and stuff,” I answer, taking a sip of my drink.
