Chapter 2
I pressed my forehead against the passenger-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 crowding the 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, I was greeted by the smell of freshly brewed coffee and a relaxing jazz instrumental.
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 guy 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.
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 big muscles and facial hair, but this boy made the whole lanky thing work, and I was eager for him to turn around.
“That will be two ninety-five.” I watched as he 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 he 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 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.”
“Any particular style?”
“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 him to answer.
“She’s, like, this incredibly talented documentary photographer, 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 the light from above, and it gleamed. “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 I wanted to see that smile of his 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 his dark-blue eyes were surrounded by thick lashes.
He moved the camera up to his face. “Smile,” he said, but I quickly looked away. “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 turned to capture the barista at work.
“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 a daring look gleamed in his eyes.
Taking a deep breath, 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 caffe latte with soy,” the woman said, holding out 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. I waited for him to say something, but, 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 out my wallet 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 credit card, which I was only allowed to use 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 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.” The way he said my name made my stomach flip. “Have fun at the gallery today.” Then he shot me one last smile, and without a backward glance, exited the coffee shop. I stood in place and watched the door swing closed behind him.
“Here you go. 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. 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.
Drew choked on a sip of coffee. “You spilled soy milk on your new camera?”
“Huh?” I focused my attention back on him and then realized what he was asking. “Oh, no. Never mind, it was nothing.”
My brother watched me for a moment before shaking his head. “Drink that caffeine up. I think you need it.”
***
“That was awesome!” I exclaimed as Drew and I stepped out of Bianca’s gallery.