Soar

“You’re nineteen. You’re a kid.”

“I don’t feel like one.” Working full time and trying to support myself on only a step above minimum wage had been an eye opening experience, even with the ridiculously cheap rent I owed Rhett.

“Usually you don’t act like one. Rushing to get back to your crap job is acting like a kid.”

“It’s the only job I have, and I need it.” Beggars can’t be choosers in New York when it comes to making money with only a high school diploma and almost no previous work experience. Funny how working at a summer camp doesn’t do much for a resume.

“Or you could pick a less expensive school and not worry so much about financial aid.”

“Says the guy working on his PhD at NYU?”

“Hey, they pay me now.” He opened the exterior door to our building.

“They didn’t when you were an undergrad.”

He let go of me so he could unlock the inner door. You had to tug on the door at the same time you turned the key or it didn’t work. The super was supposed to fix the temperamental lock months before. “True, but my scholarship covered most of it.”

I stood just inside the entryway. “All right, can’t argue with that.”

“Can you make it?” He gestured to the stairs. We lived in a third floor walkup.

“Maybe.” I headed toward the stairs that currently looked like mountains. “It’s worth a try.”

Ten minutes later, I was propped up on the couch with a bottle of water. Rhett worried over me for another few minutes before I made him get back to work. I flipped through the channels, hoping for some random movie. There was absolutely nothing on, so I settled for the local news.

Another animal attack has been reported in Bryant Park. Authorities have not released the names of the victims, but once again citizens are urged to use caution when frequenting outdoor areas after dark.

I’d seen two other news reports just like it that week, although both reported attacks in different parts of the city. I thought of the wolf in the alley. It must have just been my overactive imagination messing with me. I needed sleep, and lots of it. I switched off the TV and closed my eyes. I didn’t even have the energy to move to my room.

Chapter Two

Casey

There’s an art to serving coffee. The trick is knowing what the customer really wants. Putting whipped cream on the wrong person’s Macchiato might mean a bad day for both of you. That might seem melodramatic, but I like to keep things as calm as possible.

After six months at Coffee Heaven, I’d gotten used to my regulars. I learned quickly that most wanted the same drink every day, but others changed it up. I had one girl who seriously coordinated her smoothie with her outfit. I had to give her points for creativity.

I did have favorites. Like this old woman, Mrs. Anders, who came in at seven forty-five every morning for a cup of earl gray tea and a bagel. I got to the point where I had her tea waiting for her because I knew she liked to let it cool. My other favorite was a guy. Tall, handsome, and utterly drool worthy, he caught my attention the first time he ordered a coffee. But what stuck with me wasn’t his appearance; it was how sad he looked. I’d never seen a guy look that heartbroken day after day.

We never talked much. He’d force a smile when I handed him his coffee and asked how he was, but he never asked me anything back. I should have gotten the hint, but I’m a fairly outgoing person, and he seemed in need of a friend.

The morning after my hallucination in the alley incident, he didn’t show up at eight like he usually did. He was twenty minutes late. Having arrived at work at six, I was already regretting my decision to come in. Exhausted and still feeling out of it, I could practically hear Rhett saying “I told you so.” We had almost a brother-sister relationship. He was really close with my older sister, and I was the little kid always chasing them around.

“Running behind this morning?” I asked as I placed the piping hot cup of coffee down on the counter. For once, the cup didn’t have Toby scrawled on the side. In the rush of the morning, I didn’t even have time to add names.

He picked up the coffee without bothering with a cardboard sleeve. He must have had some real heat tolerance. “Yeah, something like that.” He hadn’t shaved, and the stubble on his face only accentuated his rugged good lucks. A lot of my friends were into pretty boys, but I always preferred my men a little rougher around the edges.

“I’m kind of having a morning like that too. That’s why my hair’s up.” I gestured to where my chestnut brown hair sat piled up into something resembling a bun on the top of my head. I’d barely made it out of bed in time, and anything more than a quick rinse off shower and brushing my teeth was out of the question.

Toby glanced at my hair and then back at my face.

“I usually wear it down…” Evidently he hadn’t noticed every little detail about me. To be fair, most people didn’t remember every little detail about the person serving their coffee. Still, I’d held out some hope he’d noticed more than my mad skills at filling a paper cup.

He nodded. “Oh. Okay. Cool.”

“Yeah. Well, I hope the rest of your day goes better.” I smiled, refusing to let his reluctance to talk affect me.

“Thanks. You too.” He half waved before walking out the front door. I enjoyed the view of him from behind. He could wear a pair of pants well.

“Man, that guy is hot.” My coworker, Remy, picked that moment to turn away from fixing the espresso machine. I’m sure it wasn’t random.

“That he is.” I tried to hide my disappointment at his disinterest as I helped another few customers, glad that the morning rush was almost over.

“His name’s Toby, right?” she asked even though she knew the answer. We’d discussed him on more than a dozen occasions.

“Uh, huh. I guess he kind of looks like a Toby.”

She laughed. “Whatever a Toby looks like. I’ve never met one before.”

“You know what? Me either.” There was nothing wrong with a less popular name. I kinda liked Casey for that reason. It was common enough that everyone could pronounce it, but I never had to go by Casey B in school or anything.

“Jess and Emmett are having a party tomorrow. Do you want to go?” She referred to our mutual friend from NYU who’d just moved in with her boyfriend. Jess was more her friend than mine, but she seemed pretty nice. Just another NY suburb kid like me; although she was from Westchester, and I was from Long Island. I’d gotten the sense that she wasn’t from tons of money either.