Entangled In You

Strange thoughts

Lilah POV

“I need to go shopping,” I leaned my forehead against the countertop at Lilliths, lightly banging my face against the sticky surface.

“Then go shopping,” Lilly huffed as she counted inventory after the morning rush. She hadn’t dared speak about Issac after seeing the messy state I was in when I walked through the doors this morning, and I was grateful for it.

“I don’t want to,” I whispered, “Want to go on this cruise for me?”

“No can do, sweetie,” she chirped, pouring two mugs of coffee for us and grabbing a muffin from the case to sit in front of me. I spun around, splashing some cream and squirting a few pumps of our cookie butter syrup inside.

I nursed the mug to my lips, inhaling the coffee-scented steam, “I hate the holidays.” My stomach growled at the sight of the muffin, but I felt nauseated and refused to touch it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Lily set her cup down beside mine and placed her hand on my back, “You can always come home with me for the holidays. I would much rather take you as my wingman for the big Kaldor party.”

She dramatically waved her hands out as if to gesture the amazing nature of said parties, but we both knew it was just a bunch of annoying older people and stuck-up cousins who frowned upon the black sheep of the family. IE: Lily and me.

“You just want grammy’s attention on me and my presence and not the fact that you are almost thirty-three with no husband or kids.”

“You wound me,” she placed her hand over her heart, and I choked on my coffee, coughing and sputtering the hot liquid all over the counter.

She patted my back, and I spun around, grabbing the cleaning rag, and wiping the mess I made.

“After work today, you’re going to go shopping, buy all the most ridiculous, Christmas themed clothing, including but not limited to at least one sexy swimsuit that shows off your banging body, and then you’re going to put your big girl pants on, and go on that cruise, because your momma isn’t going to take your life away from you, and neither is that poor excuse for a man,” Lily gave me a stern look, “Or I’m dragging your ass back to Maine so that Grammy can make you feel like dog s**t for the holidays. Your choice,” she shrugged, backing into the kitchen with raised brows.

I flipped her off as the doors swung closed behind her, earning wide-eyed looks from a few patrons still in the seating area of the Café.

My cheeks heated as I forced an embarrassed smile, nodding slowly. Most people who lingered weren’t regulars, and those who were, would expect the banter between Lily and me.

What can I say? We were making up for lost time.

Grabbing my still steaming mug, I leaned against the countertop, mulling over her words. I could find some hot guy on the cruise that I would never see again and let him numb my broken heart. No strings meant we didn’t dive into the hard stuff and given my past with Issac; It was clear strings weren’t my thing.

My eyes caught the same motorcycle from yesterday zooming past the shop. The weather was chilly, but thankfully no snow in the forecast until next week, but I figure his ride was still frigid.

Closing my eyes, I imagined riding on the back of a motorcycle. How it must feel to have the wind whipping through your clothes, and everything speeding past you in a blur.

I haven’t been able to ride in a car since the accident. I’d purchased my apartment in town, do all of my shopping, and appointments right within walking distance. If I had to go anywhere further, I opted for the bus.

Pulling out my phone and sipping on my coffee, I shoot CK a message.

IQ: What do you think riding on a motorcycle feels like?

CK: Windy. Why do you ask?

IQ: Just wondering if it would make me feel free.

CK: Oh yeah, it’s exhilarating.

“What’s the shirt today?” my eyes lifted from my phone, staring into the already lifted visor of Mr. Slate Blue Eyes.

I turned around, shifting my apron.

“Coffee makes me user-friendly,” his deep voice reads my shirt, chuckling. “Do you wear a different one every day?”

“I try to. Coming up with non-cheesy coffee quotes is harder than it sounds.”

The crinkle of his eyes showed once again that he was likely smiling beneath the helmet, “I don’t doubt it.”

“How was your sugar coma yesterday?” I turned back around, lifting my coffee to my lips to hide my smile.

“I’m certain that if the woman from yesterday did a DNA test, it would come back that sugar was the father,” he shook his head, and I snorted, splashing my coffee on the countertop for the second time today.

“I take it you didn’t come back for another one then?” I giggled at his commentary on the woman’s drink.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, “Nope. Just a plain ole’ cup of joe. I need to cleanse my pallet.”

I quickly dumped our house blend into a cup, sliding it across the counter to his awaiting gloved hand.

“Thanks Lilah,” his deep voice purred my name, and a shiver rolled down my spine. Or maybe he hadn’t, and I was imagining things. Wait, how did he know my name?

The name tag. Duh, you stupid b***h.

Either way, was it wrong to be attracted to eyes? Eyes are attractive. Hell, words are attractive. I can think of a handful of things that aren’t faces or bodies that make a human attractive.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I wondered what would happen if I met a mind reader. They’d be overwhelmed with the level of strange thoughts that course through my brain at any given second.

I’d be precisely locked up in a mental hospital.

Maybe that’s where I should be.