Every String Attached | GirlxGirl

Chapter Seven

Shawn called Thomas on Nash's birthday; two days before her own. The phone was handed over to her nephew, where she received a moment of baby talk, before he became uninterested in the phone and captivated with something else.

She'd been speaking to Thomas and Rachel nearly every day for the past week. Nothing was said about the fast and accepting transition. Why question something when everything was going right?

They'd arranged their trip to Boston; they'd be coming in a week—Rachel driving, not Thomas, because he'd always been such a reckless driver. And since returning from New York City, Shawn felt much happier happier; chatting to Chance more about her family, letting her in on the life that was so shielded—even to her best friend.

Now she sat at the kitchen counter, on one of the stools pressed against it as she leaned forward, working on her current edit on her laptop. Chance was on the other side of the counter, making herself a late breakfast; she'd been out last night with mystery man, whom she had yet to give Shawn the name of. She clearly couldn't wait to toast the bread as she buttered it and took a bite, leaning against the back of the counter and watching Shawn work.

"So you're going to Starbucks today, right?" Chance asked.

Shawn looked up, her eyebrows creasing. "No, I have so much work to do. Why?"

"Why do you think?" Chance asked, eyes rolling. "York. Duh."

"Right, well, it's not like I can just walk up to her and say a pickup line—if I used pickup lines," Shawn said, narrowing her eyes at Chance's accusing glare. "I don't know, I need a strategy or something. This one is difficult—she isn't like other girls." In many, many ways. Because York was not the kind of girl that Shawn would usually put effort towards. York was mysterious and closed off—even more than she was—and she didn't seem easy. Again, she seemed like a challenge. But Shawn knew that she was up for it.

"I already told you: the note. Write her a note."

"And what am I supposed to say?" Shawn asked, closing the lid of her laptop slightly, and leaning forwards on her elbows.

"I don't know, something cheesy. You're pretty cheesy, so I don't think you need my help with that," Chance said.

Shawn shook her head. "I'm serious, Chance. If I am to go into that Starbucks today and, let's just say that she is working at the time I'm there, what would I write to her?"

"You should say something complimentary to her, like, that she's pretty. But make it obvious that you're flirting with her. And then when you successfully flirt with her, watch for her reaction. You probably want to make sure she's into you—into girls—before you make a big move. And anyway, she seems like a slow paced, cheesy kind of person," Chance explained.

"You don't even know her," Shawn laughed, "and you've only seen her once."

"I'm good at reading people, okay? Go to Starbucks today and write that note. Seriously, Shawn, I think that thing with the cardigan was her attempt at flirting," she insisted.

"You think that her being an employee and returning a cardigan to a regular customer was an attempt at flirting?"

"Okay, it sounds kind of weird, but yeah, I do. I wouldn't do that for anyone at the store unless they were cute—which you are. Promise me you'll go?" Chance asked, her eyebrows raising, that look of pleading in her eyes.

Shawn sighed. "Fine, I'll go." She wanted it to seem that it was a hassle, that she didn't care much, when really, her heart was racing; that intoxicating and foreign feeling of excitement growing in the centre of her chest.