Me:Lol, I’m better than okay!
Rosie:Thank God!
Me:My phone’s about to die again. I ran down the street to get breakfast. I’ll get ahold of you in a little bit.
Rosie:Ugh, fine. But I’m holding you to it!
The screen goes black at the same time Bram slides a plate in front of me. The timing couldn’t have worked out any better.
“Here you go.” He sets a napkin folded silverware set down, too.
“Thanks.” I unwrap it and reach for the syrup.
I’m halfway through my pancakes when Bram comes over.
“You ever get that news you were waiting on?” He tops off my cup of coffee.
It takes me a second to recall what he’s referring to. Finally, it dawns on me, so I nod, swallowing the bite in my mouth. “Yep.”
“Hopefully it was what you were hoping for.”
I shrug. “I mean, it could have been much worse.” Johnny could have been dead, rotting away in his tub where I had left him. “What about you?”
“The same, actually.” Bram’s attention shifts to the ringing of the bell on the door, alerting him to a new customer. He grabs an empty to-go cup and fills it to the top with coffee and sprinkles cinnamon on top.
For a second, I think he’s about to hand it to me, but he extends it across the counter to the person who just walked in.
“Thanks, Bram.” His voice cuts through me.
I keep my eyes trained on my food, not bothering to turn and face him. After all, we aren’tfriends.
“Sure thing, Johnny. You hungry?” Bram points to the open spot next to me. “There’s a seat here if you want to dine in.”
Without looking, I sense Johnny’s gaze fall on me.
“No,” he says abruptly. “Thanks though. I have a thing. I’ll take a donut to go.”
I slowly reach for my mug, bringing it to my lips and giving myself something else to focus on other than this awkward interaction.
“Just one?” Bram strolls to the glass cabinet where his bakery items are stored. He snags a blueberry old-fashioned and plops it into a white bag stamped with his logo.
“Yeah.”
Bram glances down at me. “Claire, this is Johnny. Johnny, this is Claire. You two go to the same school.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Johnny extend his arm like he’s totally going along with Bram’s introduction.
A few days ago, I would have been much more friendly. I would have attempted to make small talk with this good-looking guy. But Johnny has shown me time and time again that he wants nothing to do with me, other than to be an asshole.
I’d rather ignore him and pretend he doesn’t exist, but since Bram is standing here, I have to do something.
I swivel the seat toward Johnny and shake his hand. My gaze trails up to his and our eyes lock, his still red and swollen from his beating the other night.
“Nice to meet you,” he lies.
“You, too.”
We stay that way for an awkward moment, clasped onto each other.