11. Lucy
CHAPTER 11
LUCY
C offee shops might be the most peaceful places on earth.
It’s a bold sentiment, but I stand by it.
The quiet jazz music, the smell of ground coffee beans, the friendly baristas. I also love looking at random paintings of cows, which I recognize is not a universal feature in coffee shops, but it is the dominant art subject in my favorite one. It’s called the Cozy Cow Coffee Café, and it’s the best one in Maverick City.
I discovered this shop during my first week living here. Athletes had to be on campus all summer, but we only had workouts in the morning and then pretty much nothing the rest of the day. With all that time on my hands, I went exploring.
This place is located at the old abandoned end of Main Street. It doesn’t get a lot of foot traffic because there’s a coffee shop on campus, but I needed somewhere to sip and read and be alone.
So, I started coming here weekly.
Which eventually turned into daily.
Which is how I became friends with Angie and Pete Warner, the owners and sweetest little seventy-year-old couple on earth. They were both born and raised in this small town and never left. They fell in love as kids, bought this tiny shop, and refurbished the top floor into an apartment for their family.
I became a de facto grandchild of theirs because their own kids moved away. I’ve spent many holidays and birthdays with them and even brought my mom here so she could meet my family away from home.
When I first befriended the Warners, they didn’t know who I was and couldn’t have cared less about basketball. Now, they have season tickets and oftentimes know as much about the team as I do. I’m doing my best to repay their kindness.
I don’t love social media, but I started posting about this place when my follower count started growing. The Cozy Cow wasn’t struggling, but business was often slow. I was genuinely curious to see if just a little publicity would help.
It helped way more than I ever could have predicted.
This place blew up almost overnight.
The Cozy Cow became a hub. Now, you’re lucky if you can find an open table. The Warners love it. They chat with every single person who walks through their doors. They treat every college student like family–something a lot of us desperately need when we leave home.
Of course, they couldn’t let me do this for free, but I told them that family doesn’t pay and I meant it. So, we reached a compromise: I post about them from time to time, and they never make me pay for coffee. Which is, frankly, a massive money saver for me considering my level of coffee consumption. I’m saving hundreds, if not thousands of dollars.
Thus, here I find myself on this chilly Thursday afternoon. It’s been a few weeks since our Friendsgiving celebration. Jordan and I have texted every single day since then. With our insanely busy practice, weight lifting, games, and travel schedules, it’s tough to find time to hang out.
That doesn’t mean we haven’t, though. Almost every day, he’s waiting outside the locker room after workouts to walk me to class. In the evenings, he will happen to pick up extra food that he claims would be criminal to waste, and he’ll stop by our house to drop it off.
He’s making little moments for me.
It’s really sweet, and I don’t exactly know how to handle it.
I do know that I want more than just these scattered moments. It seems like he does too, but I sense he’s holding back. His caution surrounding any real vulnerability is palpable. Whenever I bring up his family or how he got here, he changes the subject so quickly, I get whiplash.
But I’m willing to wait it out. I can honestly say that I want to. I’ve never experienced that feeling before. I want to fill my free moments with more of him. However, I don’t love operating in this gray area, where we aren’t dating but we’re something in that arena.
Pretty soon, I’m going to need him to step up to the plate. I desperately want him to be up to the task of actually pursuing me–and by that I mean, asking me out on a date, making our relationship official, etc. I refuse to settle for someone who won’t go all-in.
I know I’d be willing to go all-in with Jordan.
When my phone pings, I’m smiling before I even read the message because simply seeing his name makes me giddy.
I want to see you.
Flirting is not typically my thing, but Jordan brings it out of me.
Come find me.
This should be fun. His little dots appear.
Do I get any hints?
I think for a moment, then type and hit send .
Just one: best vibes in town.
He should be able to guess it. If he doesn’t, maybe he doesn’t know me as well as I thought. My phone pings again.
Come on, Townes. That’s way too easy.
See you soon;)
I can’t help but blush at the nickname. Other people have called me that before, but coming from Jordan, it feels more intimate. The thought of seeing him in just a couple minutes gives me butterflies–which is asinine because we saw each other yesterday.
Like less than twenty-four hours ago.
But I can't sit still right now.
All because of him.
I keep trying to read the next line in one of my all-time favorite books, Little Women, but I can’t focus. My eyes dart to the door every time the bell jingles. After I almost certainly have pulled a muscle craning my neck toward the entrance, he’s finally here.
Jordan fills up the space of this cozy place with his giant frame and glowing smile. A smile that’s trained only on me. Thank God I’m sitting because I’d definitely be in danger of going weak in the knees.
Ugh, Jo March would be so disappointed in me right now. But I can’t help it–she didn’t have a gentle, kind, washboard-abs adorning, dark and dreamy eyes-sporting, basketball-playing man trying to break down all her walls.
I do.
It’s torture.
The best kind of torture.
As he steps toward my table and takes a seat, I notice all the glances we’re getting. Until today, our time together has been private or very casual–walking across campus, chatting, him dropping off food. This looks very much like two people on a pseudo-date.
Is it ?
If it is, I was never made aware.
I also forgot that we’re this school’s celebrities. In small Nebraska towns, sports reign supreme. Because of this undeniable truth, we are now providing entertainment and gossip fodder for this shop, which in a matter of minutes will spread to the entire booming metropolis of Maverick City, Nebraska.
Basically, the cat is out of the bag.
Yet Jordan is perfectly unbothered. He gives me a charming smile.
“Hi, Townes. You are very predictable.”
Smirking, he reaches for a piece of my blueberry muffin, but I slap his hand away. With catlike reflexes, he grabs my hand in his and squeezes it.
“Aww, were you that excited to see me?”
We’re now holding hands out on the table for everyone to see. Beet red, I pull my hand away. “Nope. I’m just here to read my book.”
As well as to sit with you and drink coffee with you and every once in a while look up and see you just being here with me. That part I definitely don’t say out loud.
Instead, I hold up my book to emphasize that I’m not joking.
I intently begin to pretend to read. Staring at the book, I force my eyes to move back and forth, but I’m internalizing nothing. I’ve read and re-read the same paragraph about ten times. What I am hyper-aware of are Jordan’s eyes on me. But I don’t look up.
Then, I feel his leg make contact with mine. It almost feels accidental until the other leg brushes mine. It’s both kind of hot and also very middle school. It’s the action that finally gets me to bite.
Looking over the top of the book so only my eyes are visible, I just raise my eyebrows.
He holds up his hands, feigning innocence. “I didn’t even do anything. ”
I roll my eyes. “Uh-huh. Sure you didn’t.”
He runs his foot up my calf. Goose bumps erupt and climb up my entire body. I drop my book on the table. His eyes sink to my mouth for a split second, and I know what’s on both our minds.
We haven’t kissed yet.
I know Jordan’s past, so I’m surprised. He’s been flirtatious, for sure. But it feels like he’s holding back on purpose. He definitely likes to be close to me–always grabbing my hand or wrapping his arm around my shoulders–but nothing more.
Yet.
This little interaction is making me wonder if I’m not the only one who’s been thinking about it.
But I still need to make him work.
“Do we have a problem, sir? I came here for a peaceful afternoon of coffee and reading. Is that going to be possible with you?”
A smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”
His leg is still touching mine.
Narrowing my eyes, I pick up my book and open it dramatically. “Go get a coffee, you little nuisance.”
He stands up and winks as he passes me. “You know you love being annoyed by me.”
He’s right.
I can’t get enough of it.
It, meaning him.
He strolls up to the counter, drawing every eye in the place. Including mine. He starts up a conversation with Angie, and as he turns and both are gesturing in my direction, it becomes pretty obvious who their topic of conversation is. Noticing me staring, he shakes his head like a disappointed teacher and points back to my book.
Sheepishly, I pretend to read, but every few seconds, I glance up. He and Angie are laughing like old friends. Pete comes out from the back and shakes Jordan’s hand as Angie introduces them. Why does this feel like such a monumental moment? It’s almost like bringing him home to meet family.
Jordan finally saunters back to my table, coffee in hand, smiling like a kid. Rather than sitting across from me, he slides his chair around so we’re side by side. His legs are pressed against mine, and he reads over my shoulder for a minute.
I really wish I was able to play it cooler, but I can’t see straight. My heart is hammering and all my senses are buzzing. We are snuggled up at a coffee shop, in public, reading one of my favorite books–or just holding it in front of my head.
Finally, I give up on the charade of pretending to read. I turn to face him, which is a move that only heightens my nerves because we are intimately close.
“So, how’d you like Angie and Pete?”
He doesn’t answer right away, choosing instead to move a hair that had gotten caught on my lip. His fingers graze across my cheek, and my sharp intake of breath makes him smile softly. He rests his arm across the back of my chair and uses the other one to pull my legs even closer to his. Then he leaves his hand resting right on my lap.
He’s fully aware of the effect he’s having on me, even if he refuses to show it. Every move is calculated. He’s totally in control, and as hot as it is, it also irks me to my core.
I’m used to having the upper hand, and I want to get it back.
Finally, he responds.
“It was enlightening. I thought I was the biggest Lucy Townes fan in the world, but these guys might give me a run for my money.”
I give him a skeptical look. “Yeah, no offense, but they’d run circles around you in that contest. ”
He leans in closer. “Hmm. Okay, well then, how do I improve? Tell me what to do, Coach.”
This took the flirtation level up like ten notches very quickly.
I cock my head slightly sideways and bite back a smile. “I think I have some ideas.”
He leans in closer. We are so close, there’s only a few inches of space between our mouths.
“Oh, yeah?”
Now he’s the one breathing a little faster.
“Yeah.”
My voice is lower than I intended. It definitely has a certain effect on Jordan, though. He leans just a little closer, but I hold a finger up to his lips, stopping them right before they touch mine.
“But you’re going to need to do a little more to earn it than that.”
With a coy smile, I grab my book and walk out of the shop.