Chapter 5
five
GRANT
“Thanks, Lily.” I smile while grabbing my matcha latte.
The café is vacant for the most part—besides us and a couple huddling together in the corner.
The only signs of the after-class rush I avoided are strands of Lily’s hair falling out of her ponytail, and the damp spots covering her apron.
Her appearance is all hard work and determination.
My skin prickles with how much I admire her for it.
She nods before heading back behind the counter and I set off towards the window. I do the routine of scattering my assignments across the table and glancing over my pristine art textbooks. Then, I do what any college student would do.
I pull out my phone and start to procrastinate.
Maybe it’s luck or maybe my mom was right when she said I was naturally gifted, but my art projects don’t concern me. They always work out. Creative minds work better when they’re not being told what to do and how to do it.
Some classes have taught me valuable information on what colors should be used in certain situations, sure, but being graded on when I turn in a storyboard? It’s not going to help me book jobs or win me any awards. Assignments aren’t testaments to my abilities or talent.
Time flies faster when you’re scrolling on social media. My matcha latte is on its last sips, and I’m ready for another, when someone behind me clears their throat.
“Grant?”
The voice is deep, emotionless, and is becoming uncomfortably familiar. My ears start to ring. There are few people I worry about seeing out and about—there’s rarely anyone to see—and he’s near the top of the list.
Shifting my body towards him, I force a smile.
“Hey, Locke.”
For a few seconds, seeing him in front of me feels like a fever dream. Then I remember he’s about to be at the same university. Walking around the same campus. Probably frequenting this café as much as I do. I internally cringe when I remember the earl grey tea latte on the menu.
I’m terrified this will become a constant.
He stares at me silently before saying, “This is a surprise.”
“Definitely.”
My mouth thins into an awkward smile. I don’t want to be friendly enough for him to assume this is more than an obligatory conversation, but I can’t give away how much he annoys me.
I wouldn’t put it past Locke to tell Keller I hurt his feelings.
I bet my father would wring me a new one.
Then I’d really have to take school seriously, because scholarships are the only way I’d be able to finish out my degree without his money.
I tense my shoulders and shove my way into small talk.
“What are you doing so far from Brown?”
It’s not that far. A little over an hour from Boston, I think, but I don’t know what else to say.
Locke blinks at me for a handful of seconds before placing a hand in the pocket of his black slacks. “It’s Thursday.”
I wait for him to continue, to expand, but he doesn’t offer anything else. It’s bordering on unbearably awkward.
“Yup.”
The silence returns, then stretches. I nod a few times, like that’ll trigger something—anything to speed this up so he’ll leave, but he doesn’t move.
When I’m about to give in, ask him to do whatever it is he came here for, regardless of what he might tell my father, Locke speaks in a small voice.
“I’m in Boston for my internship. You said you were busy on Thursdays.”
Confusion settles over me. I don’t know when or why I would tell him about my schedule. It’s not like we would’ve made plans when I saw him last-
I’m slapped with realization.
Keller’s request. The weekly dinners. The excuse I made.
My focus bounces from him, to the textbooks I’ve thankfully laid out in front of me, back to Locke.
“I am! This is my group project.”
“Group?”
The hairs on my neck stand. I was so excited when I saw how empty the shop was. It’s bitten me in the ass, because there’s no one near me to play off as a classmate or project partner.
“They’re here.” The lie comes out hurried and unconvincing. I’ve done more lying in the last week than I have in my whole life. “They are.”
He scans back and forth between me and the vacant seats surrounding us, as if someone will magically appear to prove him wrong.
This is the last thing I need. If I hadn’t wiped the dinner from my memory, I would’ve thought not to leave my apartment on a Thursday.
Locke is the second worse person that could’ve caught me in this, but it might as well be my dad who found me in the middle of my lies. I have no doubt my half-brother is going to report back, and then I’ll have to answer to the man who pays my bills.
What if he takes away my car? Or threatens to cut the lease on my apartment?
Angry heat reaches my neck. Partially at Keller, for this being our relationship. And at myself, for relying on him to this extent. I try to stay straight-faced while my concerns echo. Locke has the same blank expression.
“If there isn’t anyone-”
“There is!” I repeat, “They’re here.”
“Grant.”
“I told you. Thursday nights. Group project.” My hands go up to sell it.
Am I selling it?
Locke sighs quietly, pushing his hair out of his face. “I know what dad said.”
Alarms start ringing. Locke readjusts his glasses and opens his mouth to speak again, when a tan frame headed towards the door catches the corner of my eye.
There is a solution, and there is a project partner.
“Lily!”
She stops in the center of the café, wide hazel eyes looking up from her phone. Her beige apron is gone, no longer hiding her over-the-shoulder white top and the purple bows embroidered onto her jeans. Her waves are free, too, framing her dusted pink cheeks.
I wish I had time to appreciate the sight more.
Locke glances at her, eyebrow raised. My arm lifts in her direction. It’s now or never.
“Locke, this is Lily. My project partner.”
“What?”
Her confused voice isn’t doing anything for my lie. The ten feet between us isn’t either, or the fact she’s not moving. She stays put even when I motion for her to come closer.
Faking a laugh, I wave my hand at Locke. “She’s shy. One sec.”
With long strides, I stand between any view Locke would have of Lily. She’s shorter than me, probably no more than five foot five, and it’s the closest I’ve been to her since leaning over her books together in undergrad.
My breath catches. I haven’t forgotten what she looks like in this proximity; the freckles on her cheeks placed so flawlessly they seem purposeful and planned, lashes long around her eyes.
“What are you talking about?”
Her dry voice cuts me out of my daze. She tiptoes to catch a glimpse over my shoulder, and I snap back to the problem I’m dealing with.
“Please.” My hands hover over her frame. “Do me the biggest favor and play along.”
Lily’s face scrunches, as if she’s annoyed. I’ve never seen this expression from her. “Why would I?”
I reel back in shock. A pain hits the inside of my chest. It’s not that she has to agree. I’m just surprised she doesn’t.
It’s been a while since we talked outside of latte orders and café loyalty points.
But the time we spent on our comms project felt like more than just two students completing an assignment.
I know it was more. The fact that I walked into this café last semester, saw her standing at the espresso machine, and told myself it had to be fate, is proof.
I couldn’t bring myself to bother her during her shifts when she seems so stressed. I figured that, eventually, we’d be able to reconnect. And maybe I’d get the nerve to ask her out this time around.
I never would’ve guessed our conversation would be caused by Locke, or that when it happened, she’d look more disgusted with me than sentimental.
“Did I,” I say while Lily tries to glance behind me. I can’t bring myself to care about my half-brother right now. Something’s wrong here—with Lily, and it’s more important. “Do something wrong?”
Her brown hair shifts to the side when her head tilts. A smile finally makes its way onto her face, and for a second I feel relief that maybe I misread the situation.
But the grin morphs into something more sarcastic and inauthentic. My stomach drops.
“Are you serious?”
“I-”
“I’m leaving.” Lily sidesteps towards the door, and I instinctively place my hands on her shoulders. I let her go just as quickly but the warmth of her skin lingers on mine.
“Please.” What am I asking for? A cover-up with Locke, or a chance to figure out why she seems so annoyed with me? “Five minutes. I’ll do anything.”
Her hazel eyes bounce around, at her feet, back at her coworker who she must’ve swapped with, to my table at the window. The crease in her brows start to smooth out. “Anything?”
“Yes. Anything.”
She crosses her arms and looks around again. During the long seconds before she speaks, I stare at the crease in her lips.
“Fine. But remember, you said anything.”
“I know.” The spot she chewed on is a darker red than her lip stain.
There’s a pause.
“You don’t.”
Before I can process what she could be implying, she successfully sidesteps me. I straighten my bearings, turn around, and catch up to her just as she flashes a smile at Locke. It’s a vision I hope I never have to see again.
“Hi, I’m Liliana. His project partner.”