Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
ANDREA
My favorite Sweet Seasons café sat just across the Brooklyn Bridge, its panoramic windows offering a dreamy view of the Manhattan skyline. Going there always felt a little like hovering at the edge of a ferry, taking in the world.
When I walked through the doors, its familiar cinnamon scent lured me to a dark leather chair in the corner.
Getting comfortable, I pulled out my book and picked up where I last left off in my textbook.
I was halfway through an equation when a shadow moved over me.
What the… I looked up to see a cute guy in all blue smiling at me.
“Hey.” I took out my earbuds. “Am I in your usual spot or something?”
“Not at all.” He placed a latte on my table. “I’m assuming you’re Andrea and that this belongs to you since your name keeps scrolling across the counter’s screen.”
“Oh, yeah. Thank you.”
“I’m also assuming—” He sat next to me. “That you’re mad at someone named Mr. Cross?”
I blushed. “Why is that?”
“Because you’ve shouted out ‘Fuck Mr. Cross’ or ‘To hell with that man’ at least six times.”
“Sorry…” I said. “I thought I was just saying it in my head.”
“Is he an ex-boyfriend or something?”
“Worse.” I shut my book. “My boss.”
“That’s good news for me.” He smiled, leaning closer. “I can see you’re busy, so I won’t take too much of your time, but there’s something subtle I need to tell you.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and you should go out with me.”
“That’s not subtle at all.”
“No, but it is the truth.” He smiled. “I’m James.”
“Andrea—well, obviously,” I said. “I could take a twenty-minute break for a chat outside, if you want.”
“I would like that.” He stood up and reached for my hand.
Taking it, I moved from the chair.
Before I could step forward, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
“Hold on…” I glanced at the screen and saw three missed calls from Mr. Cross.
No, not today. I slid it under my book and looked at James.
“Lead the way outside, please.”
An Hour Later
“Sorry I took more than twenty minutes.” James ran his fingers through my hair.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I needed a reminder of what ‘life’ is anyway.”
He smiled and leaned forward, pressing a kiss on my right cheek, then my left.
“You should call me when you have more time.” He stepped back and pulled a Post-it and pen from his pocket. “So you won’t feel pressure, and I won’t feel tempted to call you before you’re ready…”
He jotted down his number and folded the paper. Then he slipped it into the front pocket of my jacket.
“It was nice meeting you, Andrea,” he said.
“You, too.”
He looked as if he wanted to kiss me, but he held back and ushered me to the cafe doors.
“I’ll be waiting for your call.”
“It won’t be long.” I smiled and returned to my seat.
I watched him slip behind the wheel of a dark gray sports car before pulling off.
Setting a timer, I made myself read three chapters before ordering another latte.
While I waited, I slipped into the bathroom and splashed my face with water.
“You’re going to be okay and you’re going to pass the test whenever you take it,” I said to myself. “You got this, Andrea. You got this.”
“Do you?” A familiar deep voice startled me from behind, and I saw Mr. Cross in the mirror’s reflection.
With a smirk on his lips, he stared at me in a perfectly pressed white dress shirt and soft gray tie.
My heart immediately skipped a beat, and an unwanted but all-too-familiar tension closed in around us.
“How long were you planning to keep me waiting on you at the office?” he asked.
I spun around, struggling to find the words to say.
How did you even know I was here?
I stared at him as he rubbed his thumb against his key fob, as he managed to make this space look far too small for both of us.
“This is the women’s restroom,” was all I could manage. “The one you’re looking for is behind you.”
“I’m in the right place.” He didn’t move. “This is the parlor room that’s attached to the restrooms via the hallway to my left, Miss Stone. I believe that’s another thing that makes our cafes special, correct?”
“I’m not sure how many times I have to tell you that I’m off on Sundays, but—”
“Who was that guy who kissed you earlier?” he interrupted.
“What?” My breath caught. “Why do you know about that?”
“I don’t, but if he was important enough for you to ignore me all day, I deserve the details,” he said. “Is the relationship something or nothing?”
“You’re not privy to my personal life, Mr. Cross.”
“You’re not supposed to have enough free time for a personal life at all.”
“Did you hear the words you just said?”
“Loud and clear.” He slid his keys into his pocket. “I saw he gave you his number.”
“So you’re stalking me?”
“I was worried about you,” he said. “You weren’t answering and you weren’t at home… Then I remembered you saying this location was your favorite.”
“I’ve never told you that.”
“I asked around.”
“No, you didn’t.” I swallowed. “I’ve never told anyone.”
“So I sent every cafe manager in a ninety-mile radius your picture and asked if you were there.” He smirked. “Same thing.”
“It’s really not…”
“Back to the topic at hand,” he said. “Are you planning to call that guy?”
“Maybe.”
“It’s a yes-or-no question.”
“Well, then yes.” I glared at him. “I’ll save it for a night when my tyrant boss isn’t running me ragged or a night when I’m desperate for some much-needed stress relief. I’ll give him a call and ask him to help me.”
“So it’s nothing…” He leaned close, close enough to kiss my lips—and I swear I was willing to give in, just to see if his mouth tasted as perfect as it did in my traitorous, late-night fantasies.
I shut my eyes, waiting, but his lips never met mine.
Instead, I felt something cold and silky against my right cheek.
My eyes fluttered open as he wiped the other one with his handkerchief.
Before I could ask him what the hell he was doing, he slipped his fingers into my jacket’s front pocket and pulled out James’s blue Post-it note.
He tore it in half. Then in half again.
The pieces fell into the trash like they’d never existed.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “You don’t need someone like that distracting you, and you can do a lot better.”
In disbelief, I glanced at the bin, then back at him.
“I’ll wait until you utter some appreciation.” He leaned in until his mouth hovered just above mine, his breath warm against my lips.
“Appreciation?”
“I didn’t stutter.”
“Mr. Cross…” My blood was boiling. “I honestly didn’t hate you before this moment, but now…”
“Now what, Miss Stone?”
“I fucking loathe you.” I hissed. “And I swear, I will make it my personal mission to see you fail.”
“While still collecting a paycheck?”
“I hate you.” I enunciated every syllable. “You’ve been an asshole since the day we met, and if you weren’t my boss—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.” His lips crashed against mine, and my back hit the wall.
He gripped my hips to hold me steady and I wrapped my arms around his neck as he kissed me harder.
I moaned as he bit down on my bottom lip, as he whispered, “You don’t fucking hate me…”
“Yes. I. do…” I said through ragged breaths.
As if my answer offended him, he pushed me back against the wall with his hips, sliding a hand under my dress.
I gasped as I felt his cock hardening through his pants, his palm brushing against my thigh.
His tongue darted against mine, demanding me to submit. I tried to hold off, to cling to some sense of control, and then I felt him pushing aside my panties, slowly tapping his thumb against my clit.
As if he was counting down to my submission, I realized I must’ve missed the deadline.
He slid two fingers deep inside me, making me moan and open my mouth wider—giving him the angle of my lips he wanted.
His kiss made me forget every thought, every fiber of hatred, everything.
As his fingers slid in and out of me, his mouth demanded more.
“Tell me you want me…” he whispered. “Tell me you wanted me the first day we met…”
I couldn’t answer. I was too consumed by him and a kiss that was rewriting all the ones that came before it.
“Tell me…” He warned again, massaging my swollen clit with his thumb. “Tell me right now.”
Before I could even nod, he tore away, leaving me bereft.
Panting, we both stared at each other under the harsh lights.
He lifted his fingers to his mouth and slowly licked them one by one.
“Doesn’t taste like you hate me at all…” he said. “Am I mistaken?”
I was too on edge to speak.
He straightened his tie as if nothing happened. Then he smoothed the front of my dress.
“Since you ghosted me for most of today,” he said, his voice low, “I’ll see you at three a.m. tomorrow. Clear?”
My lips moved but no words came out.
“Good.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but he walked away.