Chapter 14

Conor had my double latte ready even before I claimed a table. He brought it over as I sat down, sliding the mug toward me.

“Thanks for making sure I got home okay the other day.”

“Oh. No problem,” he said.

I could tell that we both sort of flashed on that awkward moment when he was gazing into my eyes, and Sean walked into the house.

“See anything?” he asked, pointing to the mug.

“A very hot coffee with my name on it?” I asked. “Oh, you probably want your three dollars, don’t you?”

“Plus tip, yeah.” He smiled. “But that’s not what I was talking about.”

I looked around the bakery café, wondering if they’d made some change I hadn’t noticed when I walked in. All I noticed were several new posters for Winter Carnival on the bulletin board.

“I made a pattern.” Conor gestured toward the mug again.

“What?” I felt confused.

“A pattern. In the foam. It’s…well, it’s supposed to be a snowball. It kind of looks like a formless blob, now, doesn’t it.” He pulled over an empty chair from the next table and straddled it.

“Does that really look like a snowball to you?” I joked. “Well, snow, maybe. It is white.” I lifted the coffee cup to my lips to take a sip.

“Thanks.”

“Hey—part of the reason I came here is because we need to order a cake for Brett’s birthday.”

“Cool! Hold on a sec.” Conor got up from the chair and went over to the counter. He came back carrying a small piece of paper.

“How old is he going to be?” Conor asked. “Four, right?”

“Right,” I said.

“Vanilla? Chocolate?” he suggested. “No, wait. It’s Brett. It has to be strawberry.” He tapped his pen against the table. “We don’t actually make a strawberry cake. How about a white cake with strawberry frosting?”

“That’d work,” I said.

“What did Gretchen say?”

“She said get anything, but make sure it’s not her favorite. She’s been trying to lose weight. Her fave is chocolate, so this should be safe.”

“What’s your favorite?” Conor asked.

“Mine?” I laughed. “Chocolate, too. With chocolate frosting. No, wait—even better? Banana cake with chocolate icing—”

“Yeah, but have you ever had raspberry chocolate cake?” Conor said. “The baker here makes a killer torte like that.”

“A killer torte,” I repeated. “Hmm.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe I’ve been working here too long. So, about this coffee thing,” Conor said.

“What…coffee thing?” I wondered.

“The snowball. Have you heard about this Snow Ball party thing?” Conor asked.

Oh, no, I thought. He wasn’t really going to do this, was he? “Is everything a thing?” I joked.

“Hey, I’m all about the things,” he replied.

I laughed, hating to tell him something he wouldn’t want to hear. Because it seemed like he was about to invite me to the party, though I couldn’t understand why. Did he think Sean and I had a falling-out? Or had we had one…without Sean telling me? Was there something I didn’t know?

“Remember that day at Buck Hill?” I said.

“Unfortunately,” Conor mumbled. “I mean—not the hanging out with you part. The being on a float part.”

“We weren’t on a float, we were on a bed!” I said.

A few people sitting at the table beside us turned to look when I said that. Conor and I looked at each other and laughed.

“Same difference. So what were you saying?” Conor asked.

“Oh. Just that, yeah. Sean asked me to the Snow Ball then. I’m sorry, Conor.”

“Oh, it’s cool. You know, I just thought…you’re here. I’m here. The party is fun.” He shrugged. “We could have fun together, snarking on the seven hockey players and their dates.” He coughed. “Six hockey players. Whatever.”

“Sorry.” I shrugged.

“Yeah. Well, speed has never really been one of my strong suits. Actually I don’t even have a suit, which is going to be a problem if I go to this thing, so maybe it’s just as well.”

We sat there in awkward silence for a minute. I willed Bear to bark at a police car siren, to race off with a heavy metal object, anything. Just get me out of this weird situation.

Finally Conor forced a smile. “Well, maybe I’ll see you there if I get that suit thing together. In the meantime, I’d better get this cake order turned in.” He stood up and shoved the chair back to its original table.

About twenty minutes later, I was about to go ask Conor for a coffee refill when he suddenly grabbed his coat and left the bakery. He didn’t even say goodbye to me. I watched him walk down the block and then turn the corner.

“Where’s he going?” I asked Paula when I went up to the counter. She held out her hand, and I held out my mug.

“He went to the market. We’re almost out of half-and-half and our delivery’s not until later today,” Paula said. “What did you say to him, anyway? You’d think he was dying.”

“Not much,” I said. “He asked me to go to this party, but I couldn’t go with him because I’m going with his brother.”

“Oh. Oh.” Paula nodded. “No wonder he’s acting like this. Do you know how much he and his brother compete? And do you know how long it’s been since he liked anyone?”

Liked anyone? I thought. So Conor really did like me—he wasn’t just inviting me to spite Sean? “How long?” I asked.

“I don’t know, exactly,” Paula said. “But I’ve known him a year and there’s been no one. Absolutely no one.”

“Oh,” I said. I was surprised. Conor kind of sounded like me. He didn’t go around dating just to date. He hadn’t had tons of girlfriends, just like I hadn’t had more than one boyfriend, and even he hardly counted.

So what was my situation now? I wondered. Did I have a boyfriend, or just a date for the Snow Ball?

I went back to my table, sat at the computer, and emailed Jones. I wanted her advice, her take on things. I wanted to know what I should do. Instead I just asked her:

JONES, are you coming down for Winter Carnival or not?

Before she could respond, Conor walked back into the bakery carrying three plastic bags, filled with cartons of milk and half-and-half.

I waited a minute to let him get settled, then walked over to the counter. “Want to go to Winter Carnival tomorrow?” I asked.

“What?”

“Do you want to go to Winter Carnival with me tomorrow? My friends were supposed to come down, but I don’t know if they’re going to.”

He frowned.

Oh, no. I’d totally said the wrong thing. I’d blurted out this invitation without thinking it through. Of course he didn’t want to go with me. I was seeing his brother; it was probably wrong for me to hang out with him.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to,” I said quickly. “Never mind. It was just a…you know. An idea.”

“No, it’s not that I don’t want to.” Conor opened the fridge under the counter and started loading it with half-and-half. “I’m supposed to work at Zublansky’s tomorrow afternoon, but maybe I can get someone to cover for me. I was just wondering who, and how much I’d have to bribe them.”

“I’ll pitch in a few bucks,” I offered.

He seemed kind of taken aback by that. Too forward, I wondered? But we were just friends—what I was saying was exactly what I’d say to Jones.

“Brett would have to come, too,” I said. “Is that okay?”