10. Arielle

ten

Arielle

The coffee shop is agonizingly slow. I prop both elbows on the counter, rest my chin in my palms and sleepily stare out the window, wishing customers would come in. I honestly think everyone assumes since Graham isn’t here, the place is closed. With nothing else to do, I think about my non-date tonight and now my gut wads into a ball of nerves.

It’s been so long since I hung out with a new guy, especially one this handsome.

What if I say something dumb?

Really, it’s not even a “what-if” for me, but more like how many times something embarrassing will slip out. I don’t want to get all worked up about it though, so it ruins my chances of having fun. I let out a sharp sigh, refusing to let my nerves get the best of me, and I open my phone, ready to scroll.

The karaoke app finds my attention, which makes me smirk. I haven’t needed the distraction since I met Stallone. It’s crazy how things can change in just a few days. Now it just looks like something I could do to pass some time. With my free hand I drum my nails on the counter. I’m not huge into karaoke but if they are playing the right song, it might be fun.

I might as well check it out.

I tap on the screen to see what my first challenge is, and my song appears: “Fishing in the Dark.”

I let out a haughty laugh. I know that song and could sing it in my sleep. Challenge accepted. Rolling my shoulders back, I do a warm up stretch as I wait for the timer to count down. The screen changes, and I’m thrown into a challenge room, and I start singing.

I’m not going to say I could be rockstar material, but I’ve definitely found my rhythm, and I take down the first challenger—no problem. I really hope he doesn’t cry because he honestly never had a chance.

I advance to another level, and another after that. I just keep going, and my competitive side comes out without apologies. I’m taking out everyone.

All afternoon I keep advancing and leveling up. I sing so many songs, and I dominate. I don’t know why I have never tried karaoke before, but this is really a hobby I could enjoy more often. One thing I figure out is I especially excel at anything Disco.

It’s my genre .

I’m two verses into ABBA’s “Dancing Queen” when Christian calls me. I literally growl at his name on my phone as it forces me to forfeit my round. I hate doing that, but I’m so far ahead of everyone else. Even if I forfeit this round, I can win the overall tournament. “I’m fine,” I assert as soon as I answer the phone.

“Whoa, what’s wrong with you?” His big-brother tone passes through my phone. “I wanted to make sure you had enough cash in the till, since you haven’t been doing any bank runs."

“I’m fine.” I quickly pop the drawer open to confirm there’s plenty of change and cash, especially since no one has come in today. After a second eye sweep, I press the drawer closed. “I know how to go to the bank if I run out.” I sneak a peek at the time. The app sends me an invite when it’s time for my next challenge, and it could be anywhere from one minute to a half hour, depending on how everyone else sings.

I can’t miss my invitation.

“I don’t know.” He sounds panicked. “I really shouldn’t have left you there. I think it’s best if we close the store until we get ready to do the grand opening—”

“It’s fine,” I mutter again as I wonder how many times I can repeat the same exact sentence in one conversation. “I’m getting to know your customers.” Well, only one of your customers, and he’s quite nice. My lips curl into an amused smile at the mere thought of Stallone.

“I know how you are when you are going through a breakup. You get unpredictable mood swings. You keep saying you’re fine, but”—he stalls for a beat— “but are you, really?”

“Yes.” I soften my tone, hoping he finally believes me. “And if it makes you feel better, I promise if I’m not fine, I will let you know.”

“Do you really promise?”

“I do.” I pace back and forth behind the counter, my fingers itching to end the call. “Trust me, it’s so good for me to be here alone, because nothing here reminds me of Tom. I haven’t even once thought of him. I’m pretty much over him.”

A heavy sigh passes through the phone and relief fills his voice. “That’s good to hear.”

“It is.”

“Okay, you’ve convinced me for now, but don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

“Of course.” The edges of my lips bend into a larger smile. “Love you, bye.”

“Bye, El.”

I end the call and swipe my screen to see I’m still in the hold queue. “Phew,” I breathe out. “I didn’t miss my round.” Lifting my gaze to scan the coffee shop, I’m further relieved to see there are no customers inside and no one even remotely close to the door. This place is beyond dead. I don’t know what I’d do all day without this app.

Since nobody comes to the coffee shop, I keep accepting karaoke challenges. After winning my twenty-fifth challenge in a row, it’s time to lock up. It’s perfect timing too, because I need to refresh my makeup before Stallone arrives. Some of these choruses make me work up such a sweat; my eye makeup has been long gone.

I set my phone down and reach under the counter for my purse and pull out my sparkly pink makeup pouch. I carry little makeup with me. Just the essentials, so it’s easy to find my finishing powder right on top and my favorite lipstick. I blot all the oily spots on my face with fresh powder and apply my lipstick when a message pops on my phone.

CONGRATULATIONS ON BEATING 25 CHALLENGES! YOU ARE CURRENTLY IN SECOND PLACE. IF YOU WIN THE LIGHTNING ROUND, YOU WILL BE THE ULTIMATE CHAMPION AND WIN $500.

DO YOU ACCEPT THIS LIGHTNING ROUND CHALLENGE? YES OR NO.

My eyes round with excitement. Five hundred dollars! Up until now, I’ve only been accumulating those fake diamonds. I somehow passed the threshold into the rounds where I can win actual money. I’m not one to get excited about the possibility of prize money, but since I made no tips today, and I haven’t been to my actual job in days, that money could certainly be useful. My rent isn’t going to pay for itself. I’ve always been a competitive person. I love winning, but the thought of winning money now when I need it the most is appealing. My gaze hangs on the word champion —so enticing.

I can see my name next to that word, and the mere thought of it makes saliva pool in the center of my mouth.

I could be a karaoke champion.

I like the sound of that.

And I’d have an extra five hundred dollars, which means I have even more time before I need to return to work.

My gaze scans the coffee shop.

There’s no one here.

I can’t take too long because I have a date.

How long is the lightning round?

Lightning is fast.

That’s why they call it lightning.

And then I’d be the champion.

Without another look around the room, I accept the lightning round challenge. I hold my breath as I wait for my first song to pop up, but instead, the front door swings open.

And I drop my phone to the counter like a hot potato.

Stallone passes through the door and it’s like he walks in slow motion. His hair’s slicked back like a movie star, and he’s wearing dark trousers and a black button-up shirt. The sleeves are rolled up, showing off the corded muscles of his forearms, and he’s carrying a bouquet of pink roses. Seeing this gorgeous hunk of a man dressed up and walking toward me with flowers makes my cheeks heat as my lips slide into a full smile. It’s been years since I’ve gotten flowers. Tom always said they were a waste of money.

“I hope you like roses,” he greets me with his arms outstretched, and I lean in with one arm to give him a hug. The evergreen scent of his cologne hits me, and it infuses my smile with an even bigger curve. He smells amazing. Like the manliest man who could pluck an entire tree from the ground—roots and all—if I asked him to.

“I love them.” I lean out of our side hug, accepting his flowers at the same time. “That’s so thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He passes his hand through his dark, rich hair. “I didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked, but I wasn’t going to let that be an excuse. I wanted to bring you something to make you feel special.”

My gaze lingers on his eyes. They are dark and rich like his hair, but even better than that, they are honest . Of all the characteristics a person could have, that’s the one thing I need the most right now. I press my nose to the center of the bouquet while I walk behind the coffee bar. “Let me put these in water before we leave.”

I scan the coffee bar.

I clearly don’t have a vase.

The cups are cardboard, and more than likely won’t be sturdy enough.

Coffeepot it is!

Smirking, I yank out the empty coffeepot from the base, place it in the deep sink, and turn on the faucet.

“It works.” His agreeable smile doesn’t leave his face, and my cheeks warm from the magnetism I feel when he’s around. “I hope it’s okay, but I assumed you’d be hungry, so I reserved a table at The Grove restaurant. It’s the nicest place in town.”

“That sounds amazing.” Shutting off the faucet with one hand, I grab the pot with my other hand and shimmy it over to the back counter, where I remove the plastic off the flowers and arrange them into the pot. They are gorgeous, huge roses that barely fit, but I squeeze them in and take another giant whiff. “They really are lovely.” I stop myself from gushing, because it’s not like he’s my boyfriend or anything.

It just feels nice to be spoiled a little, and I stride toward the coat hook on the back wall, grab my heavy blue coat, and tug on the beanie I wear every day. Then I cross the room again, grab my purse off the counter, and shoulder it. I spot my phone setting on the counter where I had tossed it, and I slide that into my pocket. “I have everything I need.”

He's so handsome, dressed all in black, and my gut quibbles as I walk forward and synchronize my steps with his as we stride to the door. “The restaurant is just down the block, so we can walk if you’re comfortable,” he says.

“That works for me.” I tug at my coat and pull the top two buttons through the holes to close it. “I’m getting used to this little town. It seems like everything is mostly within walking distance.”

“Downtown has everything you need.” He holds the door open, and we pass through it, and then pause on the other side so I can lock it. I stuff my keys back into my purse and look up at him. His hand is outstretched to me. It’s a sweet gesture that feels natural, and I take his hand in mine. I bite my bottom lip to keep my jaw from dropping when I struggle to intertwine our fingers together. His hands are so big, it’s like I’m holding a bear’s paw, but I love it. It’s so strong and steady, I’m overcome with the feeling of security. Nothing could ever harm me if I’m near these hands.

We cross the street, walk past a small school and bakery, and arrive at the restaurant. He opens the door for me again, and we meet the host, dressed in a formal white shirt and black pants. The host bops his head as if in a nod of recognition at Stallone as he grabs two menus and immediately says, “Right this way.”

As we stroll through the dining room, people slide their gazes to look at us. Several people actually stop chewing as we pass. My cheeks heat, and I remove the beanie from my head, thinking that’s the problem.

The stares continue.

The host leads us all the way to the corner booth in the back of the dining room. Gesturing forward, he says to me, “Ladies first.”

I slide into my seat, take the menu he hands me, and I listen as he recites the specials: lobster for seventy-nine dollars and filet mignon, also for seventy-nine dollars. After he leaves, I lean over the menu and snicker. “Boy, that doesn’t sound like a special for seventy-nine dollars.” My gaze falls to the menu, and there isn’t a thing on here for less than twenty-five bucks.

This place is expensive.

My gaze slopes back to Stallone reading the menu, unbothered by the prices. I don’t have it in me to order anything that costs a whole day’s worth of wages. Scanning the menu again, I land on the appetizers and find clam chowder soup for fifteen bucks.

Clam chowder it is.

And just in time. The waiter arrives to take our order. Stallone orders a steak and baked potato, and he watches me closely as I order my soup. I hand my menu back to the waiter and look around the place again.

It’s dark in this little corner, with only soft candlelight on our table. I still can’t shake the feeling that people are staring at us. I look around, seeing people all dressed in their finest, and decide maybe it’s the fact I’m underdressed. I can’t do anything about it now. I clear my throat and lock my gaze back with his. “How was work today?”

“It was good. The roads finally cleared up enough. They’ve been a mixture of mud or ice, and that kept us at a standstill for weeks.” He takes his water glass and sips out of it before asking, “How was your day?”

“Really slow.” I nod as if I’m agreeing with myself. “I don’t know if people think the place is closed since Graham closed the bookstore, or if it’s always this slow, but I think I only served five people all day.”

“Only five people?” His eyes round with interest. “What did you do all day?”

All the song lyrics I belted out scroll through my mind like they are playing on the phone screen, and I almost giggle. “Ah, just looked at my phone all day.” I tightly pinch my lips together, holding back a laugh. “Good thing for technology, right?”

“Right.” He’s so dialed into me, not taking his eyes off me. It feels like we’ve known each other for much longer than a few days. It doesn’t feel like a first date. He clears his throat, and starts slowly, “I know this is forward of me, but I’m curious about something. Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” My interest is piqued, and I wait.

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but from the moment I saw you, I honestly thought you are the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. But for the life of me, I can’t really tell how old you are. Can I ask your age?”

“Oh.” My brows pin together. I thought he had something serious to ask me. My age is nothing. “I just turned twenty-one.”

He’s just about to take another sip of water, but spits it back into his glass. “Twenty-one?”

“Yeah.” My gaze shifts side to side, and my nerves tick up as I clearly missed the punch line. “What’s wrong with that? How old did you think I was?”

“I didn’t know.” He wags his head back and forth and sets his glass out of reach. “I assumed you were older than that, since you worked day shifts at a coffee shop. Maybe twenty-seven or thirty.”

“Nope. Not thirty.” A chuckle sputters out. That is the funniest thing. “Well, how old are you?”

“Aw, not thirty.” He holds my gaze for a moment, and then it dawns on me what he’s concerned about.

“You’re older than thirty?”

He nods but adds no words.

“How much older than thirty?” My gaze washes over his facial features. It’s so hard to tell because of his thick beard. He doesn’t have any wrinkles. All his hair is dark, void of any gray. He’s seriously so dreamy, he could be a movie star. There’s no way he’d be older than thirty-one or thirty-two.

“I’m thirty-five.” His tone is even as he stares deeply into my eyes.

“Wow.” My head springs back as his words echo. “You don’t look that old at all.”

He runs his hands over his beard, proudly smoothing his whiskers. “Yeah, I think the beard makes it hard to tell.”

“I agree.” I marvel at how, again, I had no idea he was fourteen years older than me.

One of his brows takes a northerly hike. “Does it bother you I’m that old?”

“No—” I’m interrupted by my phone vibrating in my pocket. Nobody calls me, except for Christian, and I already talked to him today. “Excuse me.” I retrieve my phone out and glance at the screen: Lightning Round Loading…You are a finalist. Your round begins in one minute.

Oh no!

I had forgotten about my karaoke battle! I was in the holding room the whole time.

“Is everything okay?” Stallone asks.

“Yeah.” I hover my thumb over the screen, ready to put it into sleep mode, but then another message flashes on the app.

Your randomly selected genre is: Disco.

My eyebrows shoot to the ceiling.

That’s my genre!

Another message: You’re randomly selected song is: “YMCA.” Your round begins in 30 seconds.

I know that song!

Like not only do I know that song, my friends and I dressed up as The Village People for a talent show one year, and we performed that song. I know everything there is to know about that song.

I could win five hundred dollars and be the ultimate karaoke champion.

“Are you sure everything is okay?” Stallone’s voice is so kind, and the look of concern he has for me melts my heart. “You look a little flushed.”

“Yeah,” I breathe out a heavy breath. “Now that you say it, if you don’t mind, I’m feeling a little warm.” I look behind me and see a back exit. It doesn’t look like anyone’s back there. It’s more of a loading dock or something. I hate to be rude to step out for a minute, but really, I could seriously use that money. If I won that money, that means I can actually stay in Mapleton even longer, which could help me get to know Stallone even more. I jerk my thumb toward the exit. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to step out for some air.”

“Are you sure?” His gaze shifts to the back door, and I’m already sliding out of my booth. “I can come with you.”

“Nah, I just need five minutes, and I’ll be fine.” Well, actually four minutes and one second to be exact, but he doesn’t need to know I need to belt out a disco song. I beeline to the back and slide through the door right when my round starts. I toss a look over my shoulder as the door latches shut, and I belt out the healthiest “Youngman” anyone has ever heard.

This is my jam!

Not only do I know all the words, but I got the moves.

I hold the phone to my mouth, the lyrics flowing out in perfect timing. With my free arm, I flay out all the motions. I feel it in my soul that I’m going to win this round. It’s confirmed when the meter fills all the way with green and confetti falls.

I won the lightning round!

I am the champion.

I ninja kick the air, as this victory is all mine.

Wait.

What?

A message pops up.

You’ve won round one of three. Your next round starts in fifteen minutes.

What? How come I have to sing again? This must be a scam.

I just won, but clearly it was an elimination round, which means I’m still in the running for the money. Money I could seriously use.

My gaze cuts back to the door. I better get inside because I would hate for Stallone to get the wrong idea and think I’m rude. Plus, I only have fifteen minutes before I have to sing again. I’m so close to winning this thing, there is no way I’m quitting now.

I can almost taste this victory.