the typical Southern drawl I hear from people who’ve lived here most of their lives. Like me. “You… If you didn’t help me…”
“I saw you go down.” I glance out the window to the left. “When the light turned green…” I shake my head, hating to think what would have happened if I hadn’t chosen that precise moment to glance up from my phone to see her slip and land on her back. I’ve suffered falls like that. Know how they can knock the wind right out of you. It’s no wonder she was struggling to pull herself together in time to get out of the way of traffic.
The barista comes to our table and sets down a steaming cup. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” I release her hands and slide the tea toward her. “Drink. The green tea should warm you up. And help calm your nerves.” I push out a laugh, running my fingers through my dark, rain-drenched hair. “It usually helps me.”
She wraps her dainty hands around the cup and lifts it to her mouth, blowing on it. I try not to stare as she takes a sip, but I can’t stop looking at her full, glossy lips. The adrenaline that coursed through me mere moments ago is suddenly replaced by something else. Something I haven’t felt in quite a while now. Something I didn’t think I’d ever feel again.
A spark.
It catches me off guard. I try to convince myself it’s the aftereffects of the anxiety from almost being flattened by the pickup as I pulled her to safety. But if that were the case, the rush of electricity running through me would dampen with time. Not get stronger the longer I remain in her presence.
“You’re right.” Her sweet voice cuts through, and I tear my gaze from her mouth. “It’s exactly what I need. Well, apart from a shot of whiskey or tequila.”
I chuckle. “I’d probably want more than a shot if I were you. What are you doing out in this weather in the first place? And without an umbrella?”
She sets the cup on the table. “I was heading to my car. It’s parked in the garage next door.”
“And you were in such a rush that you couldn’t wait for the storm to pass?”
She sighs. “I was just fired. The last thing I wanted was to spend any more time than necessary at my office.”
My smile wavers. “I’m sorry.”
“At this point, I’m used to it. June third is a notoriously horrible day for me. It makes sense that not only did I lose my job, but I also almost got flattened by a truck. Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day has nothing on me.”
“I remember that book.” My muscles relax as I recall my childhood memories. “My meemaw used to read it to me whenever I complained I was having a bad day. Said sometimes all we need is a little perspective to realize things aren’t as bad as they seem.”
She tilts her head to the side. “Do you think I just need perspective?”
I pause, leaning back in my chair as I ponder my response, which gives me the opportunity to fully drink in her appearance. Tight curls frame her oval face. Dark, soulful eyes. Perfect, heart-shaped lips. And a smattering of freckles running across the brown skin of her nose. She doesn’t wear much makeup, but she doesn’t need it. Doesn’t need to do anything to cover up her natural beauty.
“No,” I finally say, shaking my head. “I don’t think you need perspective. Do you remember the other, and in my opinion, more important lesson in that book?”
“What’s that?” She furrows her brow, no longer shivering. Instead, she angles toward me, completely engaged in our conversation as if we’re old friends, not the strangers we are.
“That even if things seem pretty bad, they can only get better. So you may be having a shitty day. But when you reach rock bottom, things can only go up.” I wink.
“You know…” She pinches her lips together as a contemplative look crosses her face, making my heart skip a beat. “I think they already are.”
“Is that right?”
“If you hadn’t helped me, they’d probably be scraping my body off the pavement right now. So thank you.” She grabs her cup once more, raising it in a toast before sipping her tea.
“I just did what any reasonable human would when seeing a person in need.”
“That’s not entirely true. These days, most people only care about themselves. Look