It hadn’t been enough. He’d known it wouldn’t be, but he’d never been good at staying away.
He caught the eye of the barista over the counter. Tall, lean, dimples. The man was cute, in a doe-eyed, optimistic, kind of way. Definitely interested.
And maybe a few years ago, Harrison would have pursued it, but it always ended the same. A couple of hot and eager blowjobs, and then his attitude would send them running.
It was how all his relationships ended. No candlelight dinners, no walks on the beach. Just a quick lay, and a fast exit.
He carefully avoided eye contact when his order was called, checking the names scrawled on the cups, avoiding one with Kelly written in messy script. When his first sip was not the black coffee he’d ordered but an overly sweet hazelnut monstrosity, he grimaced.
Hayley’s Earl Grey mocked him from the counter.
“Oh.” A tall brunette giggled, appearing out of nowhere. Was laughing gas being pumped into the air of the shop this morning? “I think they mixed up our drinks. I’m Kelly. Obviously. And this extremely black coffee must be yours.” She held it out to him, and they swapped. “Do you have something against milk and sugar, or are you sweet enough as you are?”
“No one has ever accused me of being sweet before.”
“Maybe they don’t see the real you,” she said, giving him a once-over.
Harrison was not usually opposed to a little flirtation, even in a strange little shop on a Monday morning, but this was the second time in twenty minutes a woman had come on to him, and even his ego wasn’t big enough to explain that.
As he turned to leave, Kelly put her hand on his forearm, halting him and pulling a pen out of her pocket.
“Here.” She plucked the cup from his hand and wrote her phone number just below her name. “In case you get a sweet tooth later.”
What the hell was happening today?
He couldn’t even make it out of the coffee shop.
The collision was inescapable, considering how his day had gone so far. Espresso soaked the front of his shirt. Shock set in quickly, until he realized he wasn’t burned.
Something very strange was going on.
“I’m so sorry.”
Harrison looked up. He had no words.
This time it was a redhead.
What next?
The man before him dabbed at the stain, a wad of napkins captured in a strong hand.
Harrison followed the arm, taking in the rest of him. Gray slacks, matching vest, stark white shirt. The same interested glint as Beth and Kelly and the barista.
Was this all a delirious hallucination? Had he suffered a brain injury after Lee had broken the bad news, and now he was imagining himself trapped in a damn rom-com?
Meet-cutes weren’t real.
“That looks like it’s going to stain. I’d be happy to take if off you if you want — back at my place. Help you wash it.” The man’s jaw could cut glass. “Unless you prefer being dirty.” He cocked a brow and gave Harrison a pointed look.
Harrison looked down at himself, confused. Of course, Hayley’s Earl Grey was unharmed. He wanted to laugh.
He needed to get out of this damn shop before another lovesick stranger came on to him.
“Sorry, I have to be somewhere… else.”
Lee picked up on the second ring. “What —”
“Did you do this?”
“Do what?”
“Six years, Lee —”
“I know.”
“And Marked is still sitting in development hell —”
“I know.”
“I was supposed to be done by now.”
“Kyle, man, I know. Why do you think you’re here? This is your ticket out.”
“God dammit…”
It had to be some sort of cosmic joke. Harrison had been asking Lee to find him a way to finish up with the studio for months. He couldn’t turn this down. No matter how much he hated romance.
And Lee knew it.
Harrison groaned, running a hand down his face. He needed a shave. “All right, stop looking so smug.” It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see him; he knew Lee. “Go putt a birdie or whatever it is you spend my money on. But I swear, if you’re behind this, you aren’t nearly as funny as you think you are.”
Lee only laughed. “No idea what you’re talking about, man.”
Hayley couldn’t quite hide her smile upon seeing him, although she tried, covering her mouth with one hand. “What happened to you?”
The explanation sounded twice as ridiculous as he expected it to, and Hayley was predictably moved to tears. Of laughter. The sound filled the room, and Harrison ignored the way it filled him up as well.
A week of this, and he’d be back to his own screenplays. He needed to stay focused on that.
“I hate to say it,” she said, her eyes alight and her cheeks pink. She was a vision.
“Yeah, you look like you hate it.”
“For someone so determined to look down on romance, I’d say your good fortune is well deserved. Almost, dare I say, karmic?”
“Very funny. Maybe you should reconsider your day job. You may have a future in stand-up comedy.”
She laughed, adding three packets of sugar to her milky tea. It wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed this ritual. Always three, no more, no less, and always personally added, as if she didn’t trust the barista to count properly.
It was endearing. Harrison was used to being the tightly wound, nit-picky cynic with an attention to detail that somehow got lost on his way to dressing himself. Messy on the outside and ordered on the inside was what his sister always said.
He could learn a thing or two from Hayley. Hell, she’d likely jump at the chance to teach him, and shit he really shouldn’t have put that particular scene in his head. Now he’d have to sit here and not let his dick take over the thinking every time she chewed on the end of her ballpoint.
He was such an asshole.
He stood.
“I’m going to go check in.”
Hayley nodded over her tea, her eyes polished bronze. He grabbed his stuff, his traitorous heart rattling the bars of its cage as he walked out of the room.
11 INT. HOTEL — RECEPTION DESK
The hotel manager enters his details while Harrison waits.
The lobby was quite nice for a mid-budget hotel. The vaulted ceiling spilled light into the room, bringing to life the flecks of golden brown in the terrazzo flooring that only dragged Harrison’s mind back to the woman he’d walked away from.
Again.
“Mr. Kyle, I’m so sorry, but there’s been a mix-up with your room.”
Harrison’s exhale was dragged from the depths of his feet. All he wanted was for this day to end, but it seemed determined to throw everything it could at him.
“Please tell me you’re joking. I’m running on two hours of sleep and three terrible coffees, one of which I’m wearing. All I want is to shower and change. So if you’re about to tell me that I flew all the way here and I don’t have a room, I’m going to need you to not do that.”
“No, no! Nothing like that. You definitely have a room. It’s… just…”