Contradictions (Woodfalls Girls 3)

“Anyway, she went screaming over to my house that I was trying to kill her, so I did the only thing I could.”

“You really did run her over?” I teased, still laughing. I bent over to check the mini fridges under the counter to make sure the whipped cream and milk jugs were filled. Saturdays were notoriously busy at Javalotta, and nothing sucked more than having to run to the stockroom for supplies midway through a rush. It was never good to make coffee lovers wait for their next caffeine fix.

“Funny. I should have run her ass over. No, I peeled off down the road like I had no idea what was going on.”

“Okay, so it’s your word against hers,” I joked.

“Sadly, she has proof,” she said, looking embarrassed as she filled the napkin dispensers.

“What did she do? Snap a picture?”

“Um, no. Her mailbox—well, it’s sorta wedged under the back bumper of my car.”

I looked at her, waiting for her to continue, while trying not to laugh since she looked so distressed.

“See, when I hit it at first, it sorta flew into the road from the momentum of the crash. I panicked because she was screaming like a lunatic, so I tried to speed away, and I ran it over on my way down the street. It somehow got wedged up under my car.”

There was no way I could suppress my laughter anymore.

“The funny part was the god-awful noise it made as I was driving here,” she said, joining in on my laughter over the story. I was wiping away tears when Carl, one of the other employees, joined us.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, placing a till in one of the registers.

“She, sh-sh,” I tried to explain, but I dissolved into more laughter. I held my side, trying to ease the stitch from laughing so hard.

Carl looked at Reanna to elaborate. “It’s not as funny as she’s making it,” she said, trying not to laugh as she stacked cups in one of the dispensers.

Her comment made me laugh again. I left her to explain it to Carl while I went to Larry’s office to retrieve my own till.

“What’s going on out there? Sounds like someone let in a pack of hyenas.”

“You’ll have to ask Reanna. I’m not sure I could get through the story,” I said, laughing again.

The story of Reanna’s mishap ran through the entire coffeehouse as the day progressed. We began to make bets on which customers would comment on the car that had a mailbox stuck under it. I cleaned up. The informers were easy to spot. They were the ones who walked in the door backward since they were busy gaping at the mailbox like it was roadkill. In a way, it was.

At three o’clock

, the next shift of employees showed up, and Reanna left with a grinding noise as she drove off with the mailbox still attached. We all watched from the window to see the fountain of sparks coming up behind her car from the metal mailbox rubbing against the asphalt. The morning crew laughed before heading out, leaving the afternoon crew and me feeling bereft now that our source of entertainment was gone.

The steady stream of customers that was typical for a Saturday continued all afternoon and into the evening. The time was flying by, even though I found myself checking my phone more often than normal. I had to give credit to Liz and Larry for putting together a great crew. We ran like a well-oiled machine.

“You seem pretty antsy tonight,” Heather observed as I pulled my phone out to check the clock for the umpteenth time in the last hour. “Is there some killer party I need to know about?”

“Not that I know of,” I answered offhandedly, hoping she’d drop it. I stepped up to the counter so I could ring up the energy drink a pimply kid had plunked on the counter. I handed him back his change.

“Tressa, Queen of All Parties, doesn’t know if there’s anything going on tonight? Are you holding out on me?”

I sighed. That really was my reputation. How sad my college legacy would be. “I have a date,” I said, trying to save face, even though I had intended to keep my date with Trent on the down low.

“Oh, even better. Spill.” She leaned against the counter with sudden interest.

Seeing no out, I gave her an abridged version of my impending date. Her questions made it easy since she was all about the physical stuff. It was easy to describe Trent’s physique in great detail. Heather sighed with pleasure as I talked about his abs and of course his eyes, which were his best feature. By the time I finished talking, I felt like everything in me was a puddle of liquid heat. Being sexually deprived was muddling my brain.

14.

Trent, who normally couldn’t keep track of time to save his life, showed up at my apartment at nine thirty on the nose. I was in the middle of trying to squeeze into my favorite skinny jeans when he knocked on the front door. Derek and Cameo weren’t home yet, which meant I had to bounce my way to the door to get my jeans pulled up over my hips, which have always been on the curvy side. After I managed to shimmy my jeans on and button them up, I smoothed my shirt down and opened the door.

“You’re early. Come on in,” I stated, backing up toward my room for my long socks and boots.