Chapter 2
I pressed my forehead against the passenger’s side window and let my eyes drift over the buildings slipping past me.
Drew and I had been driving all night, and thankfully we arrived in Chicago well before the morning rush hour.
It was still dark, but a faint purple light on the horizon hinted at the coming sun.
Even though it was too early to check in, we were making our way through downtown to find our hotel.
Drew wanted a place to park the car and leave our luggage.
I stayed awake during the drive to keep my brother company, and now I was too tired to focus much on anything. If I didn’t get caffeine soon, I would never make it through the day. Just as my eyelids began to flutter closed, a green sign caught my attention. I shot straight up in my seat.
“Drew, stop! It’s a Starbucks!”
He jumped, accidentally jerking the wheel to the left, and the car swerved a foot into the next lane. There wasn’t much traffic to crowd the five o’clock streets, but I could see the alarm on his face.
“Jesus, Stella, you could have gotten us killed,” he said and let out a shaky breath when he successfully pulled our car back into the right lane. “That scared the crap out of me.”
“Sorry,” I said as he found a parking spot on the side of the street. “Coffee’s on me. What do you want?”
“Just a regular cup of joe. None of that creamer crap.”
I wrinkled my nose. “That’s disgusting,” I told him as I unbuckled my seat belt.
“That’s how you’re supposed to drink it,” he told me as he settled back into his seat to wait.
Grinning to myself, I climbed out of the car and headed toward the shop.
When I stepped inside, a bell rang above me and the smell of freshly brewed coffee greeted me.
There was one employee behind the counter, a middle-aged woman with frizzy hair, and she was taking the order of the only other customer in the shop.
As I waited for my turn, I studied the boy in front of me.
He was tall and lean and must have been around my age, but I couldn’t get a good look at his face.
Light-brown, wavy hair poked out from underneath a beanie, and he was wearing a fitted white T-shirt, designer jeans, and a pair of gray Vans: simple but stylish.
I couldn’t help but look him up and down a second time.
Normally I was into guys with big muscles and facial hair, but something about this boy was interesting.
His whole look screamed artsy, and I liked it.
“That will be two ninety-five.” I watched as the boy retrieved a wallet from his pocket, pulled out a five, and handed it over. After giving back his change, the woman said, “I’ll be right back. Gotta grab the soy milk out of the other fridge.”
“That’s chill,” he answered and tucked his money away.
The barista disappeared through an employees-only door, leaving me alone with the boy.
As he waited for her to return, he beat his hands against the counter, re-creating the rhythm to a song.
I cleared my throat to let him know he wasn’t alone, and he turned, finally noticing I was standing behind him.
He offered me a smile. It was one of those full-face smiles accompanied by an adorable set of dimples, and all I could do was stare like an idiot.
Something about him struck me, almost as if I knew him from somewhere, which was ridiculous since we had never met.
I touched my camera out of habit, and his smile faltered.
Neither of us moved for a moment, but then the boy forced another grin onto his face and waited, like he expected me to say something.
Unable to stand his gaze any longer, I glanced up at the huge chalkboard menu hanging above us. Even though I already knew what I was ordering, I deliberately studied each item. They really should have another employee working. He was still watching me, and I tried my best to ignore him.
“So,” he said, finally ending the silence. “That’s a nice camera. I take it you’re into photography?”
I jumped at the sound of his voice. The boy was leaning back against the counter, his arms crossed casually over his chest. “Um, thanks,” I responded. “It’s an early birthday gift. And yeah, I’m into it.”
“What kind?”
“Portraits are my favorite,” I told him, as I fiddled with my lens cap, popping it off and on. “But I’ll take a picture of just about anything.”
“Why portraits?”
“Have you ever heard of Bianca Bridge?” I could feel a smile growing on my face, and I didn’t wait for the boy to answer. “She’s, like, the best photographer ever, and she does these amazing shots of people from all over the world. I’m actually in Chicago to visit her photo gallery.”
“Hmm,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “Never heard of her.” Pushing away from the counter, he took a step toward me. The dog tag around his neck caught a beam of light from above, and it shimmered back and forth. “Mind if I have a look?” he asked and pointed at my camera.
My fingers tightened around it, and I hesitated.
“Umm,” I responded, not knowing what to say.
The Starbucks employee trotted back into the room clutching a carton of soy milk, and when I glanced back at the boy, he lifted an eyebrow at me as if to say, “Well?” Slowly, I nodded my head.
In any other instance I would have said no, but something about him was confident and charming.
Plus, I wanted to see that smile again. I lifted the strap from around my neck, and he moved in to take the camera.
As he did, his arm brushed against mine, making my skin prickle.
“Like this?” he asked and snapped a close-up of me. I found it hard not to grin. He was holding the camera all wrong and clearly had no idea what he was doing.
“No,” I said, reaching over to help. “You probably have to adjust the focus. Here, I’ll show you.
” I put my hand on top of his and demonstrated how to move the lens.
The boy looked up at me for a moment, my hand still over his.
This close to him, I could see the thick lashes that surrounded his dark-blue eyes, and my stomach flipped in circles.
He moved the camera up to his face. “Smile,” he said, but I looked away and let my hair cascade in front of my face. “What? The photographer doesn’t like having her picture taken?” he asked as he snapped another one.
“Not really,” I answered and took back my camera.
Dropping the strap back around my neck, I held it in my hands and let out a huge breath.
“I much prefer looking through the lens,” I told him.
I focused it on his face for a moment before swinging around to my right and capturing the barista at work.
I held the camera up so he could look at the image on the screen.
“It’s best when they don’t know you’re looking at them.
That way you get the real stuff. Real is when it’s the most beautiful. ”
“What if they know you’re looking?” He was closer now, and even though he had spoken in a barely there voice, I heard every word.
Taking a deep breath, I counted to three in my head to work up some courage.
Then I stepped back and focused the lens on him.
He leaned in with an unwavering gaze, but with the camera between us, he was less intimidating.
I only saw a subject. My finger hit the button three times before I pulled away to study the portraits.
They were easily the best pictures I’d taken in a long time.
Finally, I answered him. “Those can be beautiful too.”
His lips quirked up in a smile, but before he could respond, the barista finished his order. “All right, one caffè latte with soy,” the woman said, handing the boy his drink. “Sugar’s around the corner if you need it.”
“Thank you,” he told the woman, but he never glanced in her direction. He kept his eyes on me as he reached over and grabbed his drink. Finally, after three long seconds, he turned and made his way over to the sweeteners and stir sticks.
“Sorry about the wait,” the woman continued. “What can I get for you?” I gazed at her with parted lips. I had completely forgotten why I was even standing in Starbucks. “Hon?” she prompted me.
“Right,” I said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Um, can I have a grande of your regular brew and a tall hazelnut macchiato?”
“Anything else for you today?”
“No thank you.”
She pressed a few buttons on the register. “Okay, that will be eight ninety-eight.”
I pulled my wallet out of my purse and searched for a ten. “I know I have some cash in here somewhere…” I muttered to myself. I didn’t want to have to run back out to the car—that would be totally embarrassing—but all I could find was my plastic, and I was only allowed to use that in emergencies.
“I got it.” The boy slapped a twenty down on the counter and winked. My fingers fumbled as I looked between him and the money, and my credit card slipped out of my hand.
“Crap.” I rushed to pick it up, but he was already there, bending down and plucking it off the floor. He turned it over in his hand as he straightened back up, his eyes glancing down at my name.
“Here you go,” he said, holding it out for me to take.
“Um, thanks.”
“It was nice to meet you, Stella Samuel.” A half grin yanked on the corner of his mouth as he said my name. “Have fun at the gallery today.” Then he turned and exited the coffee shop. I stood in place and watched the door swing closed behind him.
“Here you go, darling. One grande coffee and a tall hazelnut macchiato.” The barista pushed the drinks across the counter to me. “Your friend left his change behind. Do you want it?”
“Keep it,” I told her, not bothering to look back. I grabbed the cups and rushed out the door to ask the boy his name, but when I reached the sidewalk, there was nobody in sight.
“What took you so long?” Drew complained when I finally slid back into my seat.
“Oh, you know. Soy milk, camera,” I rattled off. My mind was on that boy.