I'd not promised her I would call Dane. He surely had holiday plans anyway. Nevertheless, I spent all weekend thinking about him. Once I even pulled out my phone and started to call him. I'd memorized his number before I threw it away, and my damn brain wouldn't forget it. My hand shook as I stared at my phone's screen, and my stomach clenched like I might throw up. I'd tossed the phone on the bed and gone for a run without it. On Monday I waited in the long line at the coffee shop down the street from my building, pretending I wasn't annoyed by people wrapped up in scarves and hats, playing winter when it was fifty-eight degrees. I even plastered on a fake smile and said 'Happy Holidays' to the barista when she handed me my holiday-themed cup filled with a gingerbread latte with whipped cream rather than my usual black coffee. And Shelley said I didn't know how to have fun. What's not fun about overpriced Christmased-up coffee? The fact that I didn't care for this shop's regular brew had nothing to do with my fanciful choice.
