Hi Colette! Really enjoyed talking with you the other night. Hoping your headache is gone, and you had a great day yesterday. See you at rehearsal!

Send.

Well, that only took nine days.

And I was in the middle of my go-to breakfast for the past year—a cup of Peet's coffee, a bowl of Cheerios, and two pieces of buttered whole wheat toast—when I received a response.

Aw, thanks, ur so sweet! Feeling much better. 😄 Looking forward to rehearsal. See u soon! 😊

Yet another thing I was pretty sure no one had ever called me. Sweet? Is that just something people say, or did she really mean it? And normally I'd cringe at text-speak like 'u' and 'ur', but coming from Colette, it was, well... kind of perfect. Like everything else about her.

Her message left me smiling like an idiot, but before I could respond, my phone buzzed again. Another message popped up, this one from Gary.

Gary: Just got done our first ultrasound! Marquice and I both BAWLED 😭... SO awesome to think that precious bundle of joy will be ours!

Me: I'm so excited for you guys! You're going to be great dads.

Gary: I wish I had your confidence. LOL! This is brand new to both of us. But one thing we won't be short on is LOVE! ❤️

Me: Exactly. That's all you need to be great parents.

Gary: Thanks Randall! That means a lot. ❤️ Hey, you know how Martha Argerich is performing in Seattle in a few months?

Me: Of course! She's only my favorite pianist of all time. That show must be sold out, right?

Gary: Almost, but not quite. The cool part? Marquice knows someone who knows someone... who might be able to get us seats. 😁 Maximum of four. Terry's interested too, so it would be the four of us.

Me: No way!! That would be awesome. Talk about once in a lifetime!

Gary: It WOULD be awesome. Fingers crossed! 🤞

Me: Keep me posted!

Gary: Will do. 👌 Gotta run. Later!

I was half-expecting the universe to balance things out with a falling piano or some other cosmic prank. Seriously, I'm not used to days like this. Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket.

I gathered my viola and sheet music tote and headed for my car. Not even the steady drumming of rain on my windshield or the cold splash of puddles beneath my tires could wipe the cautious smile off my face. I looked forward to my comforting routine: sipping my iced vanilla latte while warming up backstage, easing into my day.

And, if I played my cards right, maybe some friendly conversation with Colette.

About ten minutes into my drive, though, I hit a solid wall of traffic. As in, it wasn't moving. At all.

All right, universe, very funny. I get it. Randall Lipsky isn't supposed to have great days. Where's the falling piano?

I tapped an insistent rhythm on the steering wheel, trying not to glare at the taillights in front of me. Taking some deep breaths, I attempted to focus on my playlist—but it didn't make the vehicles in front of me move a single inch.

Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. Someone struggling up a side street in the rain—umbrella at a precarious angle, a box balanced awkwardly in one arm.

But then I saw the cello case slung over her shoulder. And the strands of pink hair escaping from the hood of her windbreaker.

I guess I just have to think about Colette three times and she appears. Sort of like Beetlejuice.

My logical brain, my 'voice from a darker place', and my social coach began their usual three-way squabble.

You won't be early to rehearsal. What about your routine?

Don't do it! Don't keep giving yourself false hope. You're only going to get hurt in the end.

I'm sure Colette would love a ride in the pouring rain. Be a good friend!

My logical brain and my social coach must have made peace—just this once, and only because it's raining—because before I knew it, I'd made the left turn onto 34th.

I lowered the passenger window. "Colette!" I shouted above the downpour. She looked up, startled, then smiled in pure relief. "Need a lift?"

"Oh hell yes!" she said breathlessly, rushing to the car. I sprang from the driver's side, shielding myself against the elements as I loaded Colette's cello into the back seat.

"Seriously, you're a lifesaver. My hero in a Honda!" She flashed me a grin that made my heart skip a beat. I pulled away from the curb, wondrously aware that the woman I've been crushing on is in my car for the second time in thirty-six hours.

"So what's in there?" I asked, nodding toward the pink rectangular box she held carefully in her lap.

"Actually, these"—Colette smiled wide as she opened the box with a flourish—"are for you. To thank you for the ride home."

Inside were a dozen rounds of sweet, gooey, deep-fried perfection better known as old-fashioned donuts.

Colette was, in fact, full of the best kind of surprises. "Where'd you get these?" I shook my head in disbelief. "They look incredible!"

"They're from Annie's. I did some research—everyone online says they're the best old-fashioneds in Portland," Colette said, beaming. "I didn't know which kind you liked, so I got four of each. Vanilla, chocolate, and maple."

"I just so happen to love them all," I said, practically salivating. "Seriously, though... I'm just... blown away. I can't think of the last time someone did something so... thoughtful for yours truly." I mean, she remembered our 'favorite foods' conversation from the party, woke up early, braved the pouring rain—all for me.

"You deserve people doing nice things for you, Randall." Colette rested her hand on my arm. That will never get old. Ever. "Okay, so which one do you want to try first?" Her eyes were wide with excitement.

"How about a maple?" She handed me a donut and a napkin. I took a small, almost dainty bite, determined to savor every crumb.

We eased into a silence that felt natural, like we didn't need to fill every second with words—like we'd been friends for years. But I wanted to talk, to learn as much about her as she was willing to share, and my brain had been swirling with questions since our conversation the other night.

"This is phenomenal," I said, holding up my donut. "So freaking good." I finished my mouthful, then lowered my voice. "Slight change of subject—on your Instagram, I noticed a lot of pictures with someone who looks like your twin. Is that your sister? You look really close."

Colette chuckled warmly. "Yes, that's Angeline. She's my rock, my inspiration, my true best friend. No one gets me the way she does." Her face softened, and I caught the loving glow I'd seen in her photos with Angeline. "She's seven years younger, and she has some mental health issues—depression, borderline personality disorder. So I've always been her protector, her voice when she can't find her own."

"She's lucky to have you," I said, meaning it more than anything I'd said all day.

"More like I'm lucky to have her." Colette wore her fierce, unconditional love for her sister on her sleeve.

"So is she still in Hong Kong?"

"She's in the States too, ironically." Colette stifled a laugh. "My parents didn't approve of me going to grad school in the U.S." She paused to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "But after my dad retired last year, they moved to California. San Diego. Remind me to explain why later. Anyway, Angeline's a senior in high school there. She's really struggling."

"So if she's a senior in high school, and you're seven years older, that makes you..."

Oops.

I'd just committed one of the most egregious gaffes possible. My social coach came down hard: never ask a woman's age. Ever! That's unacceptable.

"I'm sorry. Please don't answer that." Heat climbed up the back of my neck. Why did I keep putting my stupid foot in my stupid mouth? "Forget I said anything. I'm so..."

"Randall!" Colette cut me off sharply, but reassured me with another touch on the arm. "It's totally fine! I'm not sensitive about that at all. I'm twenty-five and proud of it." A lighthearted smile played at her lips. "But now you have to tell me too."

"Twenty-seven, also proud of it."

Colette glanced over, her eyes catching mine. "You pull it off well. The beard makes you look... distinguished." Her smile turned mischievous. "Sexy, even."

I gasped audibly, though I don't think she noticed. My brain was short-circuiting. I mean, just because she called my beard sexy doesn't mean she thinks the rest of me is sexy.

Does it?

I swallowed hard, buying myself a second to recover. "Well, umm... thank you."

"Speaking of that distinguished beard of yours, you have a bit of frosting right"—Colette pointed to a spot on her face near the outside of her lip—"there."

"I do?" I poked around with my tongue. "Where again? It's hard to tell." We were stopped at a traffic light, so I could use my fingers to help locate the rogue icing.

"It's okay. I'll get it." We locked eyes, and she gave me a glance that nearly made me come unglued. She possessed an alarming ability to make me lose all self-control.

Colette delicately scraped one of her perfectly manicured nails, now painted a arresting shade of lilac purple, along the side of my mouth. "I think I got it." Without breaking eye contact, her expression bloomed into a kittenish grin. "Now open wide!"

I froze.

Was she actually serious? Before my brain could catch up, my body obeyed. Almost instinctively, I parted my lips slightly, letting her guide the moment.

In one fluid motion, Colette slid her nail between my teeth and slowly wiped the icing away. Her finger lingered on my lips just a beat longer than she needed to, her gaze steady, her grin knowing.

She was silently surveying my face when her forehead suddenly creased. "Oh no! I think I missed a spot. I'd better try again."

"I won't say no," I quipped, the words slipping out before I could stop them. Did I just flirt with her? Again?

Colette scraped the side of my face once more, this time leaving her fingernail in my mouth just a fraction of a second longer.

What the hell just happened? My heart thundered in my chest, and my breathing was shallow to the point of dizziness.

Colette leaned back in her seat, wearing a satisfied smirk. "There. All clean." Her tone was as light as if we'd been discussing the weather, but her the sparkle in her eyes was unmistakable. If only she knew the effect she has on me...

I was still trying to collect my thoughts when an impatient honk from behind shattered the moment, leaving me to think I'd dreamed up the whole sequence. Right. Driving. That thing I'm supposed to be doing. I startled myself by stepping on the gas a bit too aggressively; thank you, anonymous driver, for ensuring I didn't lose my mind entirely.

Not like I had much left of said mind.

We were largely silent for the rest of the ride—no doubt me trying to wrap my brain around the fact that Colette's fingers were in my mouth had something to do with that. Colette sat quietly, playing on her phone, her face unreadable, but the tension in the car was palpable—at least to me. Was there even an inkling of a possibility that she felt the same spark I did?

You're reading too much into it. She's like this with everyone, isn't she?

Maybe I was imagining things. But maybe I wasn't.

I'd just crossed the Hawthorne Bridge into downtown when Colette broke the silence—though my head was anything but silent. "If it's not too much trouble, could we stop at a Starbucks, or some other coffee shop?" she asked as she suppressed a yawn. "I didn't get much sleep last night, so I need some help if I'm going to get through this rehearsal."

I gave her a wide, warm smile. "You have perfect timing, because it just so happens I stop the at Starbucks a block from here every day. Before rehearsal, I get an iced vanilla latte—part of my routine." My voice softened. "And I'd like to get you something too. Just because."

Just because you're quickly becoming one of my favorite people.

"Oh my goodness, that's so sweet of you!" she gasped, covering her hand with her heart. "Are you sure? I swear I didn't just say that because I was trying to score a free coffee." She chuckled nervously.

"I know you're not like that," I said sincerely, smiling to take the edge off. "My treat. I insist." I pulled the car into a parking space and cut the engine. We removed our seat belts and Colette reached for the door handle.

But then an idea popped into my head. Pure social coach. No input from my logical brain, and my 'darker voice' had definitely not been consulted.

My mouth went dry and my pulse skyrocketed, and I almost didn't say anything at all.

"Colette?"

She turned around to face, her sublime brown eyes catching mine. "Yes?"

I thought about how she'd complimented my beard, about the look in her eyes when she scraped icing off my face. That maybe, just maybe, there was something there. "How would you like it if..." I tripped slightly on my words as my 'darker voice' tried to gain the upper hand. No. Not this time. "What would you think if we made this a regular thing?" I took a calming breath. "I mean... me giving you a ride?"

Colette's breathing audibly hitched before a full dimpled smile blossomed. You'd think I'd just offered her free French fries for life. "Yes!" She nodded enthusiastically, the morning sun illuminating the pink in her hair. "I'd like that."

I nodded with her as a proud smile overtook my face. "Me too."

As I exited the car, my inner voices protested as I knew they would.

You won't be an hour early for rehearsal. So much for routine.

You're a fool for indulging this crush of yours. It won't end well.

But for the first time in ages, I struggled to care. I couldn't stop grinning from ear to ear—because now I was going to see one of my 'favorite people' a lot more often.

************

Randall and Colette will be seeing a lot more of each other. This should be interesting! And maybe Randall's starting to open himself up to the idea of being more than just friends. The question is, where does Colette stand? 😊

The picture at the top is from Annie's Donut Shop in Portland. By all accounts, they do have the best old-fashioned donuts in the entire city - I'd certainly take a dozen to go!