Crashing Into You (15 page)

He didn’t back away, didn't
flinch from my touch. He let me hug him. I smelled his minty breath, his
vanilla cologne—the same from that elevator dream—and rested my
head against his chest.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call
you,” he said. “When I was gone, I mean. I know I should’ve. I just needed to
be alone for a while.”

“Evan, let’s
go
!” Todd shouted. He honked the horn. “Am
I supposed to just sit here all night?”

I brought my arms down, and stepped
back. “No, I understand.” I looked back at the restaurant; I was surprised my
boss hadn’t stomped outside to promptly fire my ass. “I need to get back.”

“Okay,” he said.

I walked at a slow pace to the
front door, just in case Evan had something more to say to me. My hand was
about to touch the knob, when he finally did.

“Sydney?”

“Yeah?” I turned around.

“Would you want to get coffee
with me sometime? You know, to meet up.” He laughed, oddly, then looked down at
the ground. “To
catch
up. Just as
friends, I mean.”

He didn’t need to dig it into
my head, that it would just be friendly coffee, not let’s-order-hot-mochas-and-go-have-sweaty-sex
kind of coffee. I smiled, anyway. “Of course. I’d love to.”

“Great. Are you free next
week?”

I shrugged. “I’m off
tomorrow.” I wanted to slap myself, as soon as I closed my mouth. Could I have
sounded more desperate?

But then he said, “Tomorrow’s
perfect. Can I call you in the morning?”

My mouth hung open. “Uhh,
yeah.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.” He
jumped into the driver’s seat of his Toyota 4Runner and sped out of the parking
lot.

I stood there for a moment.
Smiled all giddy at nothing and no one.
 

Then I hurried back into the
restaurant, to the same table from before. To my amazement, the customer didn’t
complain, but instead returned to his rant about extra sausage on his pizza
like I had never left.

I had two more hours at
Frederito's. Two more long, exhausting hours.

Couldn’t it be Sunday
already?

Chapter 17

“Lukas, are you home?” I
asked, when I closed the apartment door. It was a few minutes past midnight.

“In here,” he said. The
apartment was pitch black, except for the light reflected off the flickering TV.
Lukas was sprawled out on the living room sofa, a blanket covering everything
but his face. “Where have you been? I didn’t know you worked this late.”

“Yeah, only on Saturdays. What
are you doing?”

“Oh... just having a little
Meryl Streep film festival.”

“What? Without
me
?” I dropped my jaw and put up my fists,
like I wanted to punch him in both the face and the groin.

He gave me a pained look and
shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry. I couldn't help myself.”

I smiled, and dropped my
hands to my sides. “Only kidding. Which one are you watching?”

“It's called
Postcards from the Edge
. She plays this
actress who moves in her with drunk mom. It’s pretty funny.”

My excitement level
diminished. “Oh, a comedy about alcoholism,” I said, and turned toward my
bedroom. “I think I might have to pass on that one.” I dropped my purse on my
dresser and returned to Lukas. He yawned, grabbed the remote, and put the movie
on pause.

“We don’t have to watch it.
You want me to just turn on regular TV?”

“No, you can keep it on. I
don’t care.” I sat down on the armrest. He was still sprawled out, and taking
up the entire sofa. “So you’ve been doing this all night?”

“Since, like, 4:30. I started
with
Death Becomes Her
, then
Marvin's Room
. Then
It’s Complicated
, which I think is totally underrated.”

“That's quite the line-up. Doesn't
she get drunk in all of these movies?”

Lukas laughed. “No.” He
paused. “Well, maybe.” He pressed PLAY on the remote, and the latest film
continued. “Here, I’m sorry. Did you want a seat?” He finally brought his feet
down, and rested them on the table. When I dropped down to the left side of the
leather sofa, he even let me share the blanket with him.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Want some popcorn?”

He grabbed a bowl from the
floor. The unbuttered popcorn was cold and stale, but I was starving, and ate
it anyway.

Meryl encompassed the entire
frame on the TV. She was singing, “You Don’t Know Me.” Lukas shook his head,
and said, “Can you believe it took
Mamma
Mia
to show the world she could sing?” He dug his hand into the popcorn and
shoveled some into his mouth. “Such a shame.”

I laughed. I liked Meryl, but
Lukas
really
liked Meryl. “So this is
the fourth movie of hers you've watched in a row?”

“Yeah. The P.A. job's been
kicking my ass, I just needed to relax for a bit.”

I scooted closer to him. “Trust
me, I know the feeling.”

“I thought about maybe going
to WeHo, hitting up some of the bars, but it’s so lame to do it by yourself.”
He let out an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I’ll just stay single forever.”

“You’re not gonna be single
forever, Lukas. Come on. What about that redheaded guy?”

“Who, Robert?”

“Yeah. He's so cute!”

He chuckled, and slunk down
in the sofa. Neither of us was watching the movie anymore. “I texted him.
Twice
. He never got back to me.”

“Well, maybe they didn't go
through. Try it again. Or better yet, why don't you
call
him?”

“They went through, okay?
Let's face it. He’s not interested.” He buried his hand in the bowl and shoved
as much of the popcorn into his mouth as he could fit. After he swallowed, he
said, “You know, he’s not really my type, anyway. So it’s fine.”

“He might message you back. Maybe
he's just slow.”

Lukas crossed his arms. “It’s
so sad. I’m gonna graduate from college having never even kissed a boy, let
alone slept with one.”

I grabbed the remote from the
table and turned the movie to MUTE. I put my arm around his neck. “Lukas.
Listen to me. I’m not gonna let that happen.”

“Yeah? What are you gonna do
about it? It’s not like you’d ever go to the bars with me. They serve drinks!
With
alcohol
!”

I stared at him. The hopeful
smile on my face transformed into a disappointed grimace.
 

He turned away from me. “I’m
sorry. I didn't... I didn't mean that.”

“How many times do I have to
fucking tell you?” I said, and jumped to my feet.

I stepped over to the kitchen
and grabbed a bottle of merlot from the top cabinet. I uncorked it, poured it
into two wine glasses, and returned to the couch, all in a matter of about
twenty seconds. I handed Lukas his glass.

“I’m so tired of you thinking
I’m this goddamned prude. I can have fun, okay? I just don’t like getting
stupid plastered drunk.” I clinked my glass with his and took a sip. It was a
little bitter, but not bad.

He took more of a gulp than a
sip. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll tell you what…” I wasn't
sure if I would have said this if I hadn't just bumped into Evan, and was in
such a daring and confident mood. “You and me, WeHo, next weekend. What do you
say?”

“
Really
?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun. I'll try
to get out of my Saturday shift a little early.”

He tugged on my arm, all
excited, like a little kid. “That would be so awesome! Oh my God, I can't wait.”

“Me neither. I’m gonna find
you a guy if it’s the last thing I do.”

He drank a little more of the
wine, then set the glass against his chest. “Yeah, good luck with that.” He
focused his eyes on me for a moment. Narrowed them.

“What?” I said.

“Something’s going on with
you.”

“What? No there's not.” I put
the glass down on the table.

“Did something happen
tonight? Did you get laid or something?”

I was grateful I wasn’t in
mid-swallow; I would have snorted the wine back out my nose. “Uhh, no. Nothing
close. But…”

“But?”

“You could say I had an
unexpected customer at work tonight. Guess who sat down at one of my tables.”

He looked at me, blankly. “Who?”

“Evan.”

“Evan? I thought he was in
New York.”

“I did, too. He got back on
Thursday.” I stayed silent, waited for Lukas to ask me more about the
encounter. When he didn’t, I added, “And you want to hear the weirdest thing of
all? He asked me out for coffee.”

His mouth opened wide enough
for me to see his enlarged tonsils. He pushed the blanket down to the floor,
and scooted toward me. “What, like a
date
?”

“No, no. Just as friends.”
 

His whole face seemed to
shrink, as he sorted through his thoughts. “Do you want it to be a date?”

I glanced at the TV screen.
Meryl was screaming at someone. “Maybe. I mean... I'm not really sure.”

Lukas looked down at my feet,
and said, quietly, “His girlfriend just died, Sydney. It's only been a few
weeks...”

“You think I don’t know
that?”

He rubbed his thumb against
his chin, and pursed his lips. “It just doesn’t… I don’t know. It doesn’t seem
like the best idea.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen. He
looked like he just needed someone to talk to, that’s all.”

“Oh, trust me. I’m not
worried about
him
.”

I grabbed the remote control
and turned the sound back up. “You know what? Let’s focus on Meryl.”

He smiled, and got comfy.
“Sounds good to me.”

Chapter 18

I arrived at the Coffee Bean
in Marina Del Rey thirty minutes early, mostly to allow for parking. The
coffeehouse was in a small strip mall that looked out over the Pacific Ocean,
and sometimes when it was busy you had to park as many as three blocks up. I
got lucky, though, and found a spot right in front.

The barista rolled her eyes
when I told her I needed a minute to decide on my order. I didn’t want to get
something too sweet, or something too watered down.

“Could I have an iced tall white
chocolate latte, with soy milk?” I finally asked.

“Make that two!” a voice said
from behind. Evan stepped past me and plopped a ten-dollar bill on the counter.
“And I’ll have some whipped cream on mine. How about you, Syd?”

He smiled at me, waited for a
response. I was so taken aback I didn’t say a word.

“I think that’s a yes,” Evan
said. “Two with whipped cream, please.”

He collected his change and
dropped it in the tip jar.

“Evan. Hey.”

“Hey to you. You’re early.”

“I was gonna say the same thing.”
I handed him my five-dollar bill. “Here, you don’t have to pay for my
drink—”

“No, no.” He pushed the bill
back against my chest. “I'm happy to.”

“Really? Well, thanks.”

We took the last available
booth that looked out on the ocean. Outside it was foggier than usual, with
about forty boats on the water rocking back and forth. But it was still better
than the typical view from an L.A. coffeehouse—millions of cars inching
their way down a cluttered highway.

“Were you scared of the parking
situation, too?” he asked, with a laugh.

“Ahh, that’s why you’re
early. We think alike.”

“Yeah. I remember when I came
here one day and every spot was taken. I had to park so far away I ended up
walking past another Coffee Bean just to get to this one!”

We both laughed, as the
barista shouted our names from the counter. Evan jumped up and brought back the
drinks.

“Thanks for meeting me here,
by the way,” I said, “and not that Starbucks at the Promenade. That would have
been too weird.”

“No, I totally get it. If I
had known the significance, I wouldn’t have even mentioned it on the phone.”

I brought my elbows down to
the table. Evan had already taken two sips of his coffee drink, but I hadn’t
touched mine. “Yeah, the Promenade used to be one of my favorite places around
here. They've got the movie theater, the restaurants. But now when I go... it
just makes me sad. You know. Because...”

Evan nodded. “That’s the last
place you saw Melanie. How’d she seem that day?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… was she happy? Was
she upset about anything?”

“No, actually she seemed really
good. She was super relaxed. Friendlier than usual. We had that fight the night
before, and I feel so lucky I bumped into her one more time. It would’ve killed
me...” I stopped, cleared my throat. “I mean, it would have
disappointed
me to know the last time
she heard my voice was when I was screaming at her.”