“Liam…?” A soft, husky voice pierced through the crowd huddled around the order pickup counter, and I turned just in time to catch sight of a taller man slipping in behind me.
I blinked, eyes settling on his familiar features. “Oh, hi, uh…” I quickly wracked my brain, trying to remember if Duncan had introduced himself to me the day before and if it would be weird of me to know who he was.
“Duncan. I’m Dawny’s friend?” Duncan helpfully filled the silence, mistaking my hesitation for a lapse in memory.
Probably for the best. “Right. The bouquet man. Thanks, by the way, those flowers really liven up the place.”
Duncan raised an eyebrow at my phrasing, and a shock of panic went through me. How could one body contain so much awkwardness? Eight years in the city had apparently murdered my ability to make small talk. Or maybe it was just that I didn’t know how to act around these people after being gone for so long that they didn’t recognize me, and I didn’t bother to correct them.
“Uh, right, poor choice of words. My bad.” I cleared my throat, turning my attention to the counter again as I waited for my Americano to make its grand appearance. As bad as it made me feel, part of me hoped he would leave me alone. I don’t know how I could handle talking to him while simultaneously pretending I had no idea who he was.
Duncan shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts, and rocked back on his heels. “No worries.” A pause. “The Bean Machine is super well known, you know. Best coffee in town.”
Fuck. I hummed, trying to sound disinterested without coming off as rude. “That so?”
Duncan nodded. “Mmhm! Been coming here all my life, practically. Although, I bet they have coffee places sort of like this where you're from, huh? Are you from California, or…”
I sighed, accepting my fate. People from Chestnut were just so damn friendly–provided you fit in their narrow-minded stereotype of normalcy. “L.A.” Technically not a lie, I tried to remind myself to quiet the guilt digging pins into my heart. L.A. was home, it was where I built a life for myself, where I had found community and family. Not like Chestnut.
Duncan let out a whistle. “Damn, city boy! Is that where you met Dawny, then?”
“In a sense.”
“Cool, cool…” Duncan looked forward as well, eyes trained on the countertop. He rocked back on his feet again, awkwardly tapping his thumbs on the outside of his pockets. “Well, hope you’re settling in ok. I know Chestnut isn’t as big as a place like L.A., but it can still be overwhelming to be in a new place and all that. How long are you in town for?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, tapping my index finger against my skin. A lame attempt to calm my ever-growing nerves. “Dunno yet,” I responded truthfully. “Depends on how long it takes everything to work out. Hopefully not too long, though. I’ve got clients back in L.A. who are waiting for me.”
As if a miracle sent by the heavens, my Americano finally made its grand appearance. I practically sprung for it, moving so fast I startled a few customers around me. I took the coffee into my hands, careful not to spill the burning hot liquid, and turned to leave. “Well, good seeing you again.”
Before I could make my escape, however, Duncan called out to me again. “Oh, hey, I didn’t… I wanted to say thank you!”
I paused, turning my head to look back at him with one eyebrow raised. “Thank you? What for?”
“You said you’d tell Dawny to look out for my message, right? I wanted to thank you for passing the message along, because I finally heard back from her. So… yeah, thank you.” Duncan pulled one hand free of his pocket and rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes downcast. The faintest blush tickled his pale cheeks, and a warm feeling blossomed in my chest.
“Oh.” I blinked, pondering for a moment how to respond to that. But, in typical me fashion, my mouth moved before my brain could catch up to it. “You’re welcome.”
Duncan cleared his throat. “I wanted to, um…” He sucked in a sharp breath, and despite every cell in my body screaming at me to leave before I was caught, I found myself rooted in place, waiting for what he was going to say. “Chestnut is a small town, but it can be confusing to get around, so… You know, if you ever need a tour guide, or anything, I wouldn’t mind showing you around. It’s the least I can do.”
I frowned, my eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t think I really did all that much. Just delivered a message.”
“Yeah, but…” Duncan rubbed his hands together, his eyes avoiding mine. “You don’t know how much it means to me, hearing from her again… So…”
My heart skipped, then ripped right down the center. “I really didn’t do all that much. But I just might take you up on that offer, anyway.” I knew I didn’t need it, but at that moment, all I could think about was how much I wanted to see him smile again.
Something pulled at the corners of Duncan’s lips, but it wasn’t the signature Duncan smile I remembered from our youth. It was close, but there was a hesitance to it. “Great! Well, just hit me up if you need me, I guess. Oh, I should give you my contact, huh? If you want it! I don’t wanna… I mean, we just met and all, it’s fine if you don’t wanna exchange numbers! I mean…”
A rough, half-surprised laugh escaped through my nose, and I instantly covered my mouth in embarrassment. His awkwardness was just so damn endearing, I couldn’t help it! I cleared my throat, dropped my hand, and pulled out my phone. I would have given him a business card, but I wasn’t sure how kindly he would take to seeing the name Liam Dawson printed in bold letters.
I held the phone out to him, already open to a new contact. “Here.”
Duncan smiled that same crooked, hesitant smile, and took the phone. He punched in his number and handed it back. “I look forward to hearing from you, then.”
“Order for Duncan!” A barista called, causing Duncan to turn his head.
“Oh, that’s me. Well, I won’t keep you. Later, Liam!” Duncan turned around fully and made his way up to the counter so he could retrieve his own drink.
I watched his back for, admittedly, a second too long. I watched as he grabbed the translucent drink cup. I watched as he licked some coffee that had drizzled down the side and onto his fingers.
And I caught a glance at his order.
A tuxedo mocha with whipped cream, and a drizzle of chocolate sauce.
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