lifestyle he has? Coffee Girl, I think.
Annoyed, I slam my laptop shut. I need to be reading about hemorrhoids, not movie stars, so I decide to go to Nick’s, where at least I’ll be too embarrassed to openly research Drew Danforth.
I step into the coffee shop and wave to Chloe and Nick behind the counter, then grab the one open table by the window—Thursday is board game–night, and Monopoly aficionados have every other table pushed together. Nick loves it because they have to order seriously massive amounts of coffee to stay awake for such a boring game. I settle down and open up my Word doc, ready to write the guide to at-home hemorrhoid relief that will take the internet by storm. I type a few words and take in the comforting sounds of the coffee shop: Chloe berating Nick for putting on his Elliott Smith playlist (“It’s like a real bummer of a Wes Anderson movie scene in here, and that doesn’t make anyone buy lattes!”), the comforting hiss of the espresso machine, the chuckles of the Monopoly players. As much as I sometimes wish my life would change, or that something would happen, I have to admit that I do love these comforting sounds. I inhale the warm, rich coffee scent and think that if I could wrap up in this evening like a blanket, I would.
Since Chloe and Nick are distracted by yet another one of their sexual-tension-filled arguments, I take a moment to open up my screenplay. But when the bell above the door jingles, I quickly close the document and decide to return to a little guilty Drew Danforth research. Sure, reading about a celebrity is kinda pathetic, but at least it’s not vulnerable in the same way my writing is. Not that I think some random coffee drinker is going to care about my screenplay, but it still makes me feel naked and exposed to work on it here. Maybe if I was writing a blockbuster action film or a slick mystery, I wouldn’t feel like this, but this is a romance. This is a document full of my deepest desires and dreams, my beating heart contained behind the glare of a computer screen.
Drew Danforth’s face smiles at me from an article I just opened, and I grimace, then look up to see . . . Drew Danforth.
I do a double take as I watch him walk past my table and toward the counter.
“Hey, man,” Nick says, clearly not recognizing him. “What can I get you?”
“A small black coffee, please,” Drew says, then glances into the bakery case beside the counter. “And, uh . . . one of those, I guess?”
“Oh! Those are my cherry-almond bars, and—” Chloe’s friendly, customer-pleasing smile melts off her face, replaced by sheer amazement. “Wait . . . you’re . . .”
Drew pulls off his beanie, sending droplets of water flying. “Nope. Not me. I just look a lot like him.”
Chloe ignores his words and grabs Nick’s arm. “Drew Danforth!” she squeals. Even the Monopoly players look up.
Nick looks at me and says, exasperated, “What’s going on?”
At this, Drew turns and sees me. His eyes light up with recognition, and his mouth quirks into that infuriating little smirk. I self-consciously pat at my hair, which the misty snow-rain outside has turned into even more of a frizz ball than usual.
He walks toward me, the coffee shop floorboards creaking. “Coffee Girl!” he says easily. “In your natural habitat, I see.”
“Hello,” I say, lifting my chin and trying to appear confident. “Guy Who Just Looks Like Drew Danforth.”
He bites his lower lip. “Yeah. It’s me.”
Then he takes a glance at my laptop screen. I follow his eyes.
“Oh. No. Oh, no,” I say, hurriedly closing the gossip site about Drew.
“Were you . . .” he says slowly.
“No.”
“Were you googling me?” He looks at me again, eyebrows raised.
“I wasn’t. I was . . .” I angrily click out of two more tabs with pictures of Drew. “I was . . .”
I stare at my screen in disbelief. How can this be happening?
“At-Home Hemorrhoid Relief,” Drew reads, leaning in as if to get a closer look at my screen.
“This is for work,” I say, snapping the laptop shut. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“I don’t know.” Drew shrugs. “It seems pretty informative.”
“Black coffee,” Nick calls, and Drew turns around to grab his cup. Chloe hands him a paper bag containing his cherry-almond bar and smiles so sweetly that I start to think she’s