“I love it here,” she adjusted her sunglasses, and draped her hair over one shoulder.
“It’s a restaurant,” I stated. “How could you love it here?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know…just the vibe,” she did a little shimmy in her chair, “it’s very relaxed.”
Well, okay then.
Taking a sip of water, I ventured to ask, “Do you know who Cayla is?”
“Who?” Daphne sat up straight, a single brow rose with interest.
“Cayla,” I repeated the name.
“Hmm,” she thought, tapping a peach colored nail against her lips, “I don’t believe I do. Why do you ask?” She leaned forward, expecting a juicy secret to spill from my lips.
“It’s not important.” I grabbed a napkin, wiping the condensation from my glass of water.
“It must be important for you to ask me,” she sat back, tapping her heeled shoe against the floorboards of the outdoor patio we were seated at.
“It’s really not,” I muttered, looking out towards the street.
“You’re a really bad liar, Sutton,” she pushed.
“If I knew who this person was, why would I ask you?” I countered, getting huffy. “All I have is a name. I was curious to see if you had heard it before.”
“And who did you hear it from? Hmm?” She studied my face, waiting for any sort of tick or flick of my eyes.
I let out an exasperated sigh. “I think you know.”
“I think I know too,” she drummed her fingers on the tabletop. Sobering, she added, “I know you don’t know me that well yet, but I believe we could be friends,” she momentarily placed her hand over mine where it rested on the table and then removed it.
I wanted to believe her, but I wasn’t sure I could. After being screwed over by my best friend in Texas, I was leery to trust people. Her eyes were so sincere though, even if they were concealed behind dark sunglasses.
“Caelan,” I whispered.
“I knew it!” She threw an arm in the air, doing a small fist pump.
“Seriously,” I pleaded, “have you heard him mention that name before?”
“Not at all,” she answered readily, taking a sip of sweet tea. “Granted, I don’t really talk to Caelan. I think I’ve only ever said five words to the guy. He scares me,” she shivered. Looking across at me, she asked, “Why doesn’t he scare you?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “He just doesn’t.”
“So…” She paused, toying with whether or not she should continue. “When did he mention this Cayla person?”
“It was a while ago now,” I shrugged, propping my head on my hand. “He—uh—was passed out, muttering in his sleep. He didn’t know I was there.”
“Oh,” she gasped in surprise.
“I tried to Google it, but with a single name I didn’t find out anything useful,” I muttered, irritation lacing the tone of my words.
“Ooh! Ooh!” She hopped in her seat a
nd I wondered again how she didn’t go falling to the ground. “Why don’t you try searching his name?”
My mouth fell open in surprise. “Daphne, you’re a genius!” I exclaimed and if I had been a lesbian I would’ve kissed her in that moment. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“It’s worth a shot, right?” She smiled, clearly pleased with her brilliant idea.