Sleet Sugar by S.J. Tilly

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

IZZY

“M

ay I have a large dirty Chai, please?” I ask the server.

“Uh, what?” Meghan makes a face at me.

“It’s our Chai Tea Latte with a shot of espresso," our server answers for me.

“Well, fuck me. I’ll take one, too -” Meghan says with a nod.

“Meghan!” I whisper-shout at her, as if the server won’t hear my admonishment.

“What?” She whisper-shouts back at me.

“Anything else?” The server is entirely ignoring our crazy.

“Yeah, a fluffer-nutter crepe for me, please,” I tell her, pasting on a smile.

“Fuck it, I’ll take one too.” Meghan snaps her menu shut.

I roll my eyes.

The server walks away without a word.

“Do you think they’ll spit in our food now?” I ask.

“What? No. That girl didn’t give two shits about me saying fuck. You’re the one who made it into a thing.”

“I wasn’t making it into a thing. I was just trying to encourage you to have decent manners.”

Meghan scoffs. “Well that’s a losing battle right from the start.”

I called Meghan to see if she’d like to have brunch with me today. Crepe-Diem is a staple in breakfast comfort food, and the warm gooeyness is bound to help soothe my still-sore throat.

It’s after 2:00pm, so I’m thinking this is probably more of a dinner brunch, or a dunch as Meghan would call it. But I slept like shit last night, and it took me forever to get motivated enough to shower and get ready. I kept having dreams about scary Santas chasing me, and every time I woke up I had to check my closet for monsters. There’s something extra depressing about being scared of closet monsters when you’re 30. I should definitely be past this childlike behavior.

“So, did you have fun last night?” Meghan asks this with a smirk, like she’s sure the answer is yes.

“Fun? Are you fucking insane?”

Just then the server returns with our lattes.

“Izzy, watch your language!” Meghan hisses at me.

I glare back and we wait for the server to leave again.

Meghan chuckles. “Oh come on, you know you had fun. You were feeling up Zach the entire night.”

“I was not feeling him up!” I may have said this too loud, since the old biddies at the table next to us all look over at me, in spooky synchronization.

I lower my voice and force myself to speak in a calm tone. “I was not feeling Zach up. I was using him as a man-shield so the horrible scary people would eat him first.”

“And you’re saying you didn’t enjoy that part?” Meghan raises an eyebrow at me.

I huff. “Okay, fine. Maybe I liked the touching part. And the smelling him part. And the parts where he pulled me into his arms.” Meghan nods. “But the rest of it was awful. I tossed and turned all night.”

“Isn’t that pretty normal for you?” she asks with a wince.

I told her once about the troubles I have sleeping, so she’s not wrong. But then I flash back to the one night I spent with Zach, and how I slept like a satisfied baby. Er, wait, that sounds wrong. I slept like a satisfied call girl. Like a lovestruck homeless hooker who finally found her forever home.

Meghan interrupts my thoughts - “Why are you making that face?”

“What face?”

“That face you make when you think of something weird.”

“I do not have a face for that!”

“Yes, you do. And you were just making it. What were you thinking about?”

“Lovestruck hookers,” I sigh.

“Here are your crepes.”

Of course the server returns right at that moment. This time she does give me a look, a look that says, you’re a freaking psychopath.

Meghan is fighting against a fit of giggles. “Why on earth were you thinking that?”

“Because I was thinking about the last time I really slept well.”

She mulls this for a moment before catching on. “You’re talking about your night with Zach, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I admit.

“Aw, Izz, if he really helped you to sleep then why are you fighting this so much? You clearly like him. He clearly likes you. You two are so goddamn adorable together. He’s handsome as hell. He’s nice to you. He’s not a pigheaded dumbass like some hockey players.” She scowls at that last part.

“Who are you...”

Meghan cuts me off. “I know we talked about the whole not dating hockey players thing, but I think an exception needs to be made here.”

“No.” I reply.

“No?”

“No. I need to try to get past this, get past him.”

“Why?” she asks.

“Because of all the reasons we talked about way back when, and then a whole new list of reasons. If we date, I’ll fall for him. I’m already falling for him. And if it doesn’t work, it will break my heart. Even if my dad doesn’t kick him off the team, I won’t be able to deal with seeing him. I’m not strong enough to deal with that and pretend everything is okay. The only way this could end in anything other than disaster is if we go all the way.”

Meghan grins.

“Not like that - ” I groan. “I mean marriage. Forever. All that happily ever after, fairy-tale nonsense.”

“Okay. I get that. But what makes you think that this isn’t a forever deal? I mean, I know you can never know that for sure, until, well, forever. But why are you condemning it before it even starts? You clearly have chemistry.”

“I don't deny our chemistry. I know we have that. Now. But you’ve seen him. He’s like a man-god. He’s funny, gorgeous, hockey-famous, and rich. Women are always falling all over themselves to get near him. He just moved back here. I’m sure he’s wanting to have a good time and not settle down with the first desperate girl he meets. He’ll eventually find someone better, or prettier, or thinner, or just easier to deal with, and then I’ll be left picking up the pieces of my depressed turtledove-infested heart.”

My gusto trails off by the end of my speech and now I just feel sad.

Meghan reaches over and places her hand on top of mine. I’m not even eating my comfort food, and if that doesn’t tell the whole story, I don’t know what would.

“I just… I don’t know. I just want a promise that I know no one can give me.” I sigh.

“And if I think you’re wrong?” Meghan asks.

“About which part?”

“About every single thing you just said," she says quietly.

“I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. I really do. But I’m not ready to,” I admit.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. We’ll do this your way. The Izzy way. What do you want to do next? What’s your next step?”

I smile. This part I know Meghan will enjoy. “I need you to help me go on dates.”