Not So Far Away (Worlds Collide The Duets #1) - LL Meyer Page 0,6

fifth wheel? If it makes you feel better, bring your boyfriend along.”

I throw her a scathing look. She knows I’ve sworn off men as well as alcohol.

“You’ve got the model every girl dreams of,” she continues.

“Huh?”

“He may be battery operated, but he’s never needy or argumentative. You can keep him tucked in your purse, give him a reassuring pat every now and then. And best of all, he’ll be ready to go when you are, in more ways than one.”

I snort out a laugh. “You’re insane.”

“I’m not. I miss hanging out with you. Come with us.”

I shake my head, still chuckling. I don’t tell her that the laughter has put an end to the wavering. I have to stay strong, and I can’t do that if I go to a bar, where everyone around me will be drinking. Restaurants are hard enough.

I’ve made a promise to myself and I’m going to keep it. Too much of my life has involved taking the easy road. I’m done with coasting downhill. Nothing but slow-moving, up-hill battles from now on. I’ve come too far to sabotage myself now.

“I appreciate the invitation,” I say, “but not only is my ‘boyfriend’ waiting for me at home, but I’ve got that thing tomorrow for my mom’s birthday.”

She sighs sadly. “Fine. Will you at least finish closing up, so I can get out of here a few minutes early?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, Pipes! You’re the best!” she calls over her shoulder as she heads out the back way, chucking her dirty apron onto a table as she goes.

“It’s Ellie,” I mutter, going back to cleaning the equipment. Working here at 1001 Beans has been a godsend. The customers are generally nice, the hours are flexible enough to fit around my class schedule, and Vanessa is the manager. It may not pay much, but who else but a friend would hire an ex-party girl with no practical work experience whatsoever?

The bell over the front door jingles and I curse. Didn’t Vanessa lock that?

“Sorry,” I say as I turn. “We’re clo–”

I jerk back in surprise as a guy sails over the counter and lands not ten feet from me in a crouch. Holy hell! He huddles into the corner of the counter near the register, still on the balls of his feet. My heartrate spikes in fear. He doesn’t make a move toward me, but our gazes collide. The dread and anguish rolling off of him steal my breath away. But that’s nothing compared to the recognition that plows into me like a wrecking ball seconds later.

It’s him.

A few more long seconds tick by with us staring at each other, the only sound his chest heaving with exertion.

Oh my god. It’s him.

Blond hair, longer on top, and dark, expressive eyes set in a handsome face. Even the gray hoodie he’s wearing is almost an exact replica of the one I still have at home.

It’s really him.

The bell jingles again and my gaze snaps up.

“Police! Which way did he go?”

Without thinking, I look toward the back hall. The cop takes that one small gesture and runs with it – literally – dashing through the small café, past the bathrooms, past our cubicle of a staffroom, and out into the alley. The backdoor thuds shut.

I turn back. The emotions on the guy’s face have multiplied to include confusion and shock. Clutching my hands to my chest, I whisper, “You should go.”

He stays frozen for a moment longer before he gets to his feet on shaky legs. Glancing at the counter, he dismisses the idea of leaping back over it and walks toward me. I press myself up against the back counter so he can get by, my eyes tracking him as he makes his way around the display case and then back toward the entrance. When his hand lands on the handle, he hesitates. Throwing me one last confused look, he pulls the door open and disappears.

The breath I was holding comes rushing out. Did that really just happen? I press a trembling hand to my mouth while my mind trips through the last sixty seconds. What are the chances of him jumping over my counter? One in a million? One in ten million? But why was he running from –? The cops. I should go before they come back and start asking me questions that I don’t want to answer.

Grabbing my purse from under the counter, I dig out my keys and hurry to lock the front door. Making sure everything is mostly