“Mainstreet.” I said.
Cassie nodded at me still hopping in one place and I could sense her impatience. I stood from the bench and she handed her– my– scarf to me. “We’re walking against the wind better bundle up.”
The Tim Hortons at Mainstreet was fairly empty. Cassie and I both sighed at the smell of baked goods and coffee and groaned when we heard the new Ariana Grande song on the radio. Not that it was bad, it was just always on the radio.
Cassie in normal fashion had kept up a steady stream of chatter throughout the walk here, telling me more about how her theory might change once she got around to factoring in cup size. She fell quiet as we got up to the till to order our drinks.
“I love that scarf.” The barista said to me, handing me my change.
“Oh. Thanks its my favourite.” I answered tugging at the red material noticing that the dark haired barista had dimples and was actually pretty cute.
“Red looks good on you.” The nametag read Cameron. I wasn't sure if they meant the scarf or the blush I was certain had spread across my face.
Cassie who had ordered her drink in front of me snorted as I stuttered out another thank you.
Drinking my coffee became harder and harder with each gulp and I blamed it on the terrible coffee. Riverside’s was definitely better.
Not able to stand both terrible coffee and the silence I opened my mouth “Cassie-”
She spoke at the same time as me, eyes zeroed in on my cup “The cute barista wrote their number on your cup.”
“What?!” I turned my cup around and sure enough on the other side was anxiety in ten sharpie scrawled numbers.
“You have to call them!” Cassie exclaimed her mood apparently forgotten in favour of ruining my life.
“I can’t.” I said firmly. Whatever was in my tone made my best friend pause. She eyed me in silence as we each finished our coffee though this time her thoughts were focused outward on me and not inward. She didn't like to talk about it but Cassie had the smarts to go to an Ivy league school and her kind of single minded focus weighed on me making me drink the terrible coffee faster just to have to have something to do.
“Moment of truth?” I asked when I noticed we’d both finished and desperate to break the silence. She nodded and used her teeth to pull up her cups rim while I used my nails.
“Please try again.” We read at the same time.
The Tim Hortons was still relatively empty, the only other people a middle aged couple who had come in after us and sat at the table behind us.
“Please try again,” The man said.
“Hey I won!” The woman exclaimed.
I smiled sheepishly at Cassie. “You did say it was ¼.”
“Why dont you text them?” She asked back to her focus. I knew why she wanted me to do this. Cassie was always the kind to set fires while I stood by with the fire extinguisher. I hadn’t expected her to set the fire in my head and an inferno of thoughts raged.
I clutched my empty cup, thumb tracing the black sharpie scrawl. What if I called the number written on the cup? What if I asked the cute barista out? What if cute barista said no? What if they said yes? What if the date went amazing, then the next one? What if, what if, what if what if a thousand paths and a thousand choices. It was a goddamn cup of coffee. What if it was more than that? What if I called? What if I didn't? What if cute barista was my soul mate? What if she was a serial killer who made subpar coffee as a day job?
But what if right?
Cassie for all she wasn’t one to put out fires knew first aid and could treat burns. “What are you afraid of?” She asked pulling me out of my spiral.
“What if my entire future boils down to a number written down on a cup of coffee? Or here’s a scarier thought: what if it doesn’t?” Cassie would know. She always had an answer.
“I don’t know.” She said. “Whenever I don't know the right thing to do I ask you because you're not only the kindest person I know but the best. You have a way of making every problem seem…trivial. Able to be solved and fun while we’re at it because I’m solving it with you. So I’m going to tell you what I think you would tell me.”
I was so stunned I stopped obsessively rubbing my thumb along the number on the cup.
“I think its like the roll up the rim contest which as you know I’ve thought a lot about. We don't know if we’ve won or lost until we finish the drinks and rolled up the rims both those odds â…“, ¼, either way mean nothing unless you play the game.”
“Win or lose.” I said tracing the numbers on the cup “I got to share a cup of coffee with my best friend.”
Cassie’s signature grin was directed at me like a spotlight. “Well best friend, I made some graphs showing how I think time of day might affect-”
Cassie pulled out her phone pulling up Google slides and resigned myself to the lecture. If I had chosen the Tim Hortons on Riverside would I have to listen to this rant?
What if we had gone to starbucks?
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