That wasn’t like her at all. If we made plans she was there, usually early, and if she wasn’t then I would either be blown up with messages, or she would call me. Not being here and not giving me the heads up was completely out of character for her. I pulled up our chat from the night before, double checking that this was the time and place that she wanted to meet. It was.

I typed out a quick message and pressed send.

ME: So, you’re not at Coffee Hut, want me to get your order?

I watched the chat, waiting for the typing bubbles to pop up, but they didn’t. My brows bunched together as I glanced around the room again. There were twenty people crowded around the tables at the back by the windows, but none of them looked familiar enough to me. Isabelle was the more adventurous and friendly person between the two of us. I would put money on her being able to walk over there and greet every single student by name.

Through the windows, I could see most of the parking lot. The dumpster that I parked beside was on the side of the building, so I couldn’t see Tony. But I didn’t see Josh’s jeep either. I glanced back down at my phone again. The chat bubbles popped up, disappeared, popped up, then disappeared again. I waited for the message to come through, but it didn’t. The green circular icon by her picture that said she was online vanished.

What the hell? That was definitely not like her! I closed the chat and dialed her number. The screen was cold against my heated cheeks, thanks to the overly warm atmosphere inside the coffee shop. The phone rang, and rang, and rang. Isabelle’s cheery toned voicemail played:

“Hey, it’s Isabelle! I’m sorry I’ve missed your call! Leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!”

When it beeped, I said, “Hey, Izzy. Uhm—I’m at the Coffee Hut like we said. I don’t see the jeep or you guys. I tried texting you but you didn’t respond so I guess I’m going to grab your coffee and I’ll see you in class. Is everything okay? Call me.”

I hung up just as the flannel clad guy in front of me stepped up to the counter. I sidled up behind him, still glancing around the room, hoping they would show up late, but I was starting to get nervous. Not texting me back is one thing, but not answering my calls is another. I shook my head and faced forward.

Flannel guy had shaggy blond hair poking out from beneath his WU cap and there was a hint of a black swirl at the collar of his shirt. Was that a tattoo? I leaned up on my toes to try to get a better look, but he turned around, leaning his shoulder against the display case of muffins on the counter. He grinned at me and his green eyes were so bright as he nodded his head to the cashier.

“And what did you want?” He asked. His voice was kind of gravelly, and I had to fight the small smile that tugged at corners of my lips at the sound of it. He arched a delicate blonde brow at me, and it took me a moment to realize he’d asked me a question.

“Wait, what?” I blinked and my cheeks heated slightly as his grin widened into a full smile that brought out the dimples in his cheeks.

“Your order. What did you want?”

“O-oh! I uh—I mean, can I get the blended dark strawberry mocha with an extra shot of espresso? Uh—please?”

The cashier nodded, scribbling it down on the second cup and place it next to his by the register. Her blue eyes darted between the two of us and then down to the screen as she punched in my order. “That’ll be $10 even.” She said.

Flannel guy pulled out his wallet and placed a twenty dollar bill onto the counter. She picked it up and pulled out a ten dollar bill for his change but he shook his head. “That’s for you.” He said and flashed her another grin. He turned back to me and held out his arm for me to step off to the side.

I followed him, fishing into my own wallet for a five to pay him back. Flannel guy’s eyes dropped to my hands and he chuckled. A flush crept up my neck as I glanced up at him.

“Keep it,” He said. “I’m buying you coffee.”

“Why?” I blurted and internally cursed myself as the flush heated my cheeks. I knew the moment he noticed because those dimples returned and his eyes sparkled.

“Because you’re cute and I was hoping to get your name.” His arched a brow in emphasis and I realized that that was him asking for my name.

“O-oh, it’s Kara.”

“Nice to meet you, Kara.”

“Nice to meet you…” I trailed off, hoping he would give me his name in return. Definitely not so that I could look him up on facebook later.

“My boyfriend.”

My eyes narrows slightly. “You’re my boyfriend?”

He shrugged and said, “Since you asked so nicely, I accept.” Flannel guy winked.

My mouth dropped open. That was cheesy as hell, but also so smooth. He smirked at my dumbfounded expression and then he reached out and booped my fucking nose. My gaping expression softened as we both burst out laughing.

“Dark strawberry mochas, extra espresso for Aiden.” The barista called out as he set the too blended drinks onto the counter.

Flannel guy grabbed them and led the way back towards the door.

“Well, Kara, I hate to flirt and run but I’ve got to get to class. Professor Renchler’s a stickler for punctuality.” He handed me one of the cups and flashed his dimples again in the process.

“Renchler? You’re taking archeological studies?” I asked curiously.

His brows lifted in surprise. “I am.”

“I was trying to take his class this year but they said it was full. You’re so lucky!”

Aiden moved his cup to the crook of his arm and held it against his side as he reached into his pocket to pull out a marker. He pulled the cap off with his teeth and then took my cup out of my hands. He scribbled something on it and handed it back to me wordlessly, recapping his marker and shoving it back into his pocket. He sipped nonchalantly from his coffee as he turned to walk off.

Confused, I glanced down at my cup. Next to his name that the cashier had written, was a neatly scrawled phone number with a text me written below it. I snorted and watched him walk away.

Professor Harvey’s class was set up in an auditorium. There was a large desk in the middle of the room and behind it, a whiteboard covered the expanse of the wall. Professor Harvey was leaning back against the front of his desk and was holding an open file folder. He glanced up periodically at the students entering the classroom and then would go back to shuffling through his papers.

Professor Harvey was a stockily built man with grey streaked brown hair that was swept back from his face, a few loose strands hung forward over his brows. A large bushy mustache under his angular nose covered his upper lip. He wasn’t a bad looking man for his age, but I could do without that mustache.

I descended the stairs towards a table about halfway down. I slung my bag onto the table and dropped down into the chair. The class was only about half full, but the large clock hanging on the wall to my left said there were still thirty minutes before the start time, so that was normal. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked for notifications. Still no messages from Isabelle.

My brows furrowed and I decided to type out a message to Josh instead. He should at least have his phone on him since it was in his hand most of the time anyways when we were hanging out.

ME: Is Izzy with you?

I set my phone down on the table and unzipped my bag so that I could pull out my laptop. I opened it and pressed the power button. While it booted up, I grabbed my notebook and a pen. My phone vibrated.

Josh: No, I dropped her off on campus this morning on my way into town. What’s up?

She’s on campus? I typed out my response and set my phone back down as the last couple of students filed in.

ME: She said she wanted to meet at Coffee Hut before class, but she didn’t show, and I can’t get ahold of her.

ME: It’s going straight to voicemail. If you hear from her, tell her she’d better call me.

Professor Harvey glanced up form his folder, doing a visual head count of the students. He took a pen out of his shirt pocket and jotted something down on one of the papers. Then he folded it and placed it on the desk behind him, shoving the pin back into his shirt pocket.

“Good morning, everyone.” His voice boomed through the room.

“Good morning.” A few students mumbled back.

I glanced peripherally at my phone. No response from Josh. Professor Harvey cleared his throat and walked around his desk. He picked up a marker and began writing on the whiteboard. The squeaking of the dry erase marker was almost piercing in the silent room.

I sipped from my coffee and began copying down what he was writing. When he’d finished, he recapped the marker and turned to the class. His mustache twitched as a grin spread on his face.

“Who remembers where we left off last week?” He asked as he looked around the room. Noting who was already not paying attention. He arched a brow and cleared his throat again.

A pair of girls seated in front of me were still playing on their phones. I shook my head at them as they showed each other their screens.

“Alright, ladies, lets put the phones of please.” He said. He tugged upward on his belt to adjust his paints and tapped the white board with the back of the marker.

The girls mumbled their apologies and set their phones aside. I leaned back in my seat and tapped my pen on my notebook. A student to my left raised his hand. Mr Harvey pointed up at him and nodded.

“We were discussing traumas, Professor.”

“That’s right! Traumas!” He nodded approvingly and uncapped the marker again.

I don’t think I’d ever seen someone so excited to talk about traumas before. My phone vibrated, and I glanced over at it. It was a notification from the campus news. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to the front of the room where Professor Harvey was once again writing on the board.

“What are some types of traumas?” Professor Harvey asked without looking back at us. His marker was raised and poised to right as we answered.

“Childhood trauma?” The same student to my left spoke up.

“Very good.” The professor wrote childhood traumas on the board. “What else?”

“Abuse.” Another student chimed in.

“Abuse, yes. What specific kinds of abuse can we add to that?”

“Sexual abuse.” One of the girls at the table in front of me said as she checked her phone under the table. She angled towards her friend and the other girl leaned over to look at it. They started whispering and the second girl picked her own phone back up.

“Sexual abuse is a big one. There’s also physical abuse, mental abuse and emotional abuse.” Professor Harvey said as he wrote down each one.

My phone vibrated again with another alert from the campus news. Across the room, several students started pulling out their phones and murmuring to each other.

“Hey, guys.” The professor turned to the class, looking around at all of us. “Put your phones up, we’re in the middle of a lesson.”

No one listened to him. They kept murmuring and looking at their phones. My phone vibrated a third time with another campus alert. Confused and intrigued by everyone else’s reactions, I picked up my own phone and unlocked it.

WUCN: The Coffee Hut, a local shop on WU campus is on fire. All students and staff are advised to avoid the area while emergency vehicles arrive.

WUCN: Emergency vehicles are on site. All students and staff are asked to stay in their classrooms until the situation has been dealt with.

WUCN: Emergency officials are asking that all students and staff are to remain on campus until further notice. Authorities will be conducting interview with all present on campus for today, 11/14/24. Please remain in your classrooms until the Dean comes to excuse you one by one.

The chatter in the classroom exploded as everyone began talking amongst themselves and making speculations about the incident. An email alert sounded on the professor's computer. He capped the marker, placing it on the metal tray of the whiteboard, and strode towards his desk. He leaned over the back of his chair and typed his password into his computer.

A moment later, he straightened and ran a hand over his red tie to smooth it out. He looked up at all of us and his eyes were wide with shock. He shook his head, as he remembered that he was the authority figure in the classroom. Professor Harvey cleared his throat and scooped the loose strands back from his face.

“Uh—alright everyone. I can see that we’ve all heard the news. As of right now, the school board has said we have to stay in this room until one of the investigators comes to speak with each of us.” He scratched the bridge of his nose as he tried to find something helpful to tell us. When his hand fell away from his face and I saw the worry etched there, I knew that he had nothing.

“It’s just a fire, right? I’m sure everyone’s fine.” The boy to my left chimed up again.

To my right, there were a group of kids gathered around two tables talking animatedly. I recognized one of the guys sitting there. He was in the Coffee Hutt that morning sitting at one of the window tables. He met my gaze across the room and the corners of his mouth turned down. He was worried. Did he know someone that was there?

“Respectfully, Professor,” a girl at the back of the room spoke up. I angled a look over my shoulder to stare up at her. “Why do we have to stay here? We’re all in class, its not like any of us could have started the fire.”

The guy sitting beside her was wearing a red and gold WU letterman’s jacket. There was a football patch on his right shoulder. He sneered at me, and I turned back around to face the professor. It didn’t matter if it was high school or college, Jock’s were all the same. The professor crossed his arms over his chest as he stared up at the pair of them.

“The school board has asked us to stay in our classrooms until the investigation is finished, and we will comply, Ms. Rogers.”

“This is so fucking lame.” The jock beside her murmured. He leaned back in his seat and slung an arm over the back of her chair.

“These are peoples lives that we are talking about here, Mr. Sullivan.” Professor Harvey’s tone dropped in irritation.

“What lives? They didn’t say anyone died. It’s probably just some stoner that set a trashcan can on fire or something.” The jock shrugged and offered a wide toothed grin. “You know, it was probably that cook or whatever.”

“It’s Coffee Hutt, Travis.” The girl beside him hissed and elbowed him. “They don’t have cooks they have baristas.

“Whatever, Jess.” Travis rolled his eyes and turned back to the professor. “Anyways, it was probably that Chris guy that works there, the one that makes the coffee. He’s a huge stoner.”

“I think that’s quite enough, Mr. Sullivan.” Professor Harvey said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why? I’m not wrong. You can ask anyone in this room. Hell,” Travis paused, throwing his arm out to gesture towards the group of students to the right. “Ask Amanda, she’s the one blowing him. I bet she knows.”