Nothing More

looking at the schedule on the wall behind her. It’s really none of my business who she has friendships with.

“I thought I mentioned it last night?” Aiden says, and I cough to distract everyone from the little squeak that comes out of me.

Fortunately, no one seems to notice except Posey, who tries her best to hide her smile.

I don’t look at Dakota even though I can sense she’s uncomfortable; in reply to Aiden, she laughs the laugh she gave my grandma upon opening her Christmas gift one year. That cute noise . . . Dakota made my grandma so happy when she laughed at the cheesy singing fish plastered to a fake wooden plank. When she laughs again, I know she’s really uncomfortable. Wanting to make this whole situation less awkward, I hand her the two coffees with a smile and tell her I hope to see her again soon.

Before she can answer, I smile again and go into the back room, turning the sound up on my headphones.

For a couple of minutes, I wait for the bell to ring again, signaling Dakota and Maggy’s exit, before I realize that I probably won’t hear it over the sound of yesterday’s hockey game playing in my ear. Even with only one bud in, the cheering crowd and slaps of sticks would overpower an old brass bell. I go back out to the floor and find Posey rolling her eyes at Aiden as he shows off his milk-steaming skills to her. The way a cloud of steam floats in front of his white-blond hair makes him look even weirder to me.

“He said they’re in school together, at that dance academy he goes to,” Posey whispers when I approach.

I freeze and look toward Aiden, who is oblivious, lost in his own apparently glorious world. “You asked him?” I say, impressed and a little worried about what his answers would be to other questions involving Dakota.

Posey nods, grabbing a metal cup to rinse. I follow her to the sink, and she turns on the hose. “I saw the way you acted when he held her hand, so I thought I’d just ask what was going on with them.”

She shrugs, causing her big mass of curly hair to bounce slightly. Her freckles are lighter than most redheads’ I’ve seen and are scattered across the top of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her lips are big; they pout a tad and she’s nearly my height. These were things I noticed on her third day of training, when I suppose my interest flared up for a moment.

“I dated her for a while,” I admit to my new friend, and hand her a towel to dry the cup with.

“Oh, I don’t think they’re dating. She would be insane to date a Slytherin.” When Posey smiles, my cheeks flare and I laugh along with her.

“You noticed it, too?” I ask.

Reaching between us, I grab a pistachio mint cookie and offer it to her.

She smiles, taking it from my hand and eating half of it before I even manage to get the lid back on the canister.