Chapter 39 Lottie
Lottie
I’m sprawled across my dorm bed, staring up at the faint crack in the ceiling I’ve memorized over the semesters, waiting for Sandy to text me that she’s back.
The keys to my new car sit on my desk.
I’ve already picked them up at least five times just to look at them and feel them in my hand. Pressed the lock button and listened for the distant chirp from the parking lot below.
Mine.
It still doesn’t feel real.
Sandy and I decided we’re taking it out the second she gets back. No plan. No destination. Just driving. It doesn’t even matter where we go — as long as it requires roads and distance and me behind the wheel.
I grab my phone and start scrolling through social media to pass the time. It's mindless and comforting. A few classmates posted about the start of the semester, while someone complained about having to go to class this week already. Some posted a couple of holiday family photos.
Then I see a post from Charlie from a few days ago.
It doesn't take long before curiosity wins, and I tap it.
It’s a video of him and Jordan standing in what looks like an open field, bundled up against the cold. Between them is a decent-sized remote-controlled airplane — one of those mini but still serious-looking ones.
“Ready?” Charlie’s voice comes through the speaker, wind loud in the background.
Jordan gives an enthusiastic thumbs up.
They launch it.
For about two glorious seconds, it actually flies.
Then it tilts sharply to one side, wobbles like it’s reconsidering its life choices, and promptly nosedives straight into the frozen ground.
The video cuts off right as Jordan yells something that sounds suspiciously like, “Abort mission!”
I snort. Then I laugh.
Actually laugh — the kind that echoes in an otherwise empty dorm room.
Well. At least we know neither of them will be pursuing aviation.
I’m still smiling when my phone buzzes in my hand.
Sandy: Hey, I’m close. Be outside, ready to go. It’s as cold as a witch’s frozen nipple out here!
I choke on another laugh. Only Sandy.
I roll off the bed and grab my coat from the back of my chair. The excitement bubbles up in my chest as I pull it on — thick winter coat, scarf wrapped tight around my neck, knit hat tugged down over my ears.
I check my reflection quickly in the mirror.
I’m ready for the wind.
I grab my keys — pausing for just a second to admire them again — and head out into the hallway.
The dorm feels alive again now that everyone’s back. Doors opening and closing, voices echoed. Laughter drifted from somewhere down the hall.
The second I push through the front doors of the dorm building, icy air slaps me across the face.
And before I can even brace myself, a small figure barrels into me.
“Oof—!”
Arms wrap tightly around my middle, nearly knocking me back a step.
“I missed you so much!” Sandy wails dramatically into my coat. “Don’t leave me for so long ever again!”
It’s a little cringe, but very Sandy, and there’s warmth in it.
I hug her back briefly, patting her shoulders before pushing her away just enough to look at her.
Her nose is red from the cold. Her eyes are bright and overdramatic as usual.
“Hi,” I say dryly. “It was only a couple of weeks. You’ll live.”
She gasps as if I’ve mortally wounded her. “You’re heartless. Vacation has changed you.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling.
The cold bites through my jeans, and I bounce lightly on my heels.
“Come on,” I say, holding up my keys so they jingle between us. “Let’s go for that ride.”
We hurry into the car after Sandy gives it a quick once-over, circling it like a judge at a car show.
“Oh my gosh! It’s a beauty!” she squeals, running a gloved hand along the side before the cold wind slices through both of us.
“Okay, admire it from the inside,” I laugh, already unlocking the doors.
The second we slide into the seats and shut the doors, the wind is cut off, and the quiet hum of the interior wraps around us. Sandy lets out a dramatic sigh of relief.
“Oh wow,” she breathes, running her hands over the dashboard. “This interior? Lottie. This is grown-woman energy.”
I grin, trying not to look too smug as I start the engine. The car purrs to life smoothly, warm air beginning to push through the vents.
“I know,” I say, adjusting the mirrors. “I feel like I should suddenly have stocks or something.”
She giggles as I pull out of the parking lot and onto the semi-empty streets near campus. Snowbanks line the sidewalks, and students bundled in coats shuffle along, heads tucked down against the wind.
We drive aimlessly for a few minutes, the heater finally warming the space between us.
Then Sandy gasps. “I know where we should go!”
I glance at her from the corner of my eye before returning my focus to the road. “Oh? And where did you have in mind?”
She bounces slightly in her seat, barely containing her excitement. “It’s this café — they’re famous for their dessert croissants. Like, stuffed, layered, life-changing croissants. But it’s always been too far for me to justify riding the bus there.”
I slow as we approach a red light. “And just how far are we talking?”
She gives me a sheepish look. “An hour?” Then she rushes, “If that’s too far, we don’t have to go!”
I’m already shaking my head before she finishes. “Nope. That’s perfect. Put the address in the GPS.”
Her grin could power the car.
She quickly types it in, and when the light turns green, I follow the directions as they reroute us toward the highway.
The drive is easy. Music low. Conversation drifting between random campus gossip and Sandy’s exaggerated predictions about how life-changing this croissant will be.
Exactly an hour later, we pull up to a café just off the main road. It’s a nice-sized building with warm light spilling from the windows. Inside, I can see it’s about half full — groups of people chatting over coffee, couples sharing pastries.
I park, and we step out into the cold again, hurrying toward the entrance.
The second we open the door, the scent hits us.
Sugar. Butter. Warm pastry, a hint of fruit, and melted chocolate.
It’s heavenly.
I look at Sandy. She looks at me.
“Mmm,” we both hum in unison before dissolving into giggles at how ridiculous we sound.
We join the line, glancing around while we wait. There’s a cozy seating area to one side — mismatched chairs, small wooden tables — and two large display cases gleaming under soft lights. Inside are cakes layered with cream, glossy fruit tarts, doughnuts dusted in sugar, and rows of golden croissants stuffed with colorful fillings.
We wait nearly twenty minutes before we finally reach the front.
I lean closer to the glass, debating.
Sandy orders a strawberry-and-cream croissant and a latte.
I go with strawberries, chocolate cream, and a black coffee.
“Eating in?” the cashier asks.
“Yes,” we answer together.
They hand us a small metal number and tell us to place it in the holder at our table so someone can bring our order out.
We find a table by the window and settle in. I set the number upright and glance outside at the gray afternoon stretching endlessly over the parking lot.
It feels like I haven’t seen the sun in weeks.
Winter has been nothing but layers of clouds and dull light.
I catch Sandy staring out, too, with a soft smile on her face.
I lean forward, resting my elbows lightly on the table. “So,” I ask, lowering my voice slightly, “what did you get up to during your vacation?”
She blushes immediately and looks back out the window.
Oh. Interesting.
Then she turns back to me, cheeks still pink. “You remember how I told you I was ready to have sex with Sylvie?”
I nod slowly.
“Well,” she continues, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, “she came over for a couple of days, which I did not expect. I didn’t think she’d be ready to meet my parents yet. But she did. And she stayed a couple of nights.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And?” I prompt.
“One of those nights we kinda started getting hot and heavy,” she says, shrugging like it’s no big deal, though her blush deepens. “And things just… happened.”
I laugh. “Just happened, huh?”
She bites back a smile.
“I’m not pushing for details,” I add quickly. “Because I absolutely do not need a play-by-play.”
She snorts. “Good. Cause you’re not getting one.”
Right then, a server approaches with our coffees and towering croissants, layers flaking beautifully, strawberries glistening under a drizzle of chocolate.
Sandy’s eyes widen. “Worth the hour,” she whispers.
I pick up my fork, smiling. “Let’s see if it lives up to the hype.”