Chapter 12 #2
The shop is cosy but full of character. Sunlight pours through large windows framed in dark, polished wood, the frosted glass halfway down scattering soft, golden patterns across the floor.
Circular wooden tables are spread throughout, paired with mismatched chairs that somehow feel intentional, welcoming, and not random.
Along one wall, plush booths beckon like little private islands, their cushions soft and worn in the best way.
Bookshelves line one another, stacked high with well-loved novels; spines of every colour and texture promise quiet escapes.
And then, on the walls themselves, pages from books have been framed into art, swirling upward in whimsical patterns, catching the glow from warm hanging lamps, turning words into decoration and poetry into atmosphere.
“Wow,” I say, letting my eyes sweep over everything.
River is already studying the counter, which is small and tidy, with glass shelves showcasing cakes, tarts, and pastries, each one arranged like a miniature masterpiece.
Behind it stands a tall woman, well, she looks taller than me, completely absorbed in a book.
Her dark hair is streaked with bold red and pink strands that frame her heart-shaped face, and the corners of her lips tug into a smirk.
Must be a good book.
Her tanned skin glows under the lights, and she seems as much a part of the shop as the coffee aroma itself.
“Why have you never told me about this place?” I ask, glancing at River, but he's too busy staring at the girl behind the counter with literal heart eyes, mouth slightly open, body rigid like he's frozen in awe.
Well, that explains why we practically sprinted past half a dozen other coffee shops just to get here. Quickest detour ever, apparently.
“Okay, I’m leaving you to drool,” I sigh, tugging my jacket tighter, “and getting myself a drink.” I stride toward the counter, and that's when she looks up.
Instant recognition. Her eyes light up, a wider smirk spreading across her face, full of mischief. She leans on the counter, the book abandoned like it's the least interesting thing in the world now.
“Well, well… never thought I’d see you again.”
I feel my cheeks heating, and she leans forward. “I was about to grab a cupcake for my break,” she continues, wiggling her eyebrows. “But honestly, you're way sweeter.”
Kill me now.
Manchester is huge, and somehow I've managed to bump into the one woman who knows how to use her tongue and fingers.
The only woman I've ever been with.
I shift on the spot, trying to summon some confidence. “As fun as it was… it won't be happening again.”
She just laughs loudly, eyes sparkling with confidence. “Was my tongue not good enough?”
I quickly look around and thank God the shop is empty because she isn't quiet at all, and my brother is still in some sort of trance.
“Your tongue… was fine. It's just, I’m into men.”
She quirks a brow, smirk spreading. “You don't need to be gay to enjoy multiple orgasms, babe. If I remember rightly, I blessed you with a lot. I had to replace my extensions after you yanked my hair that hard.”
I choke on nothing, coughing, heat rushing to my face. She winks, perfectly unbothered.
“Don't worry,” she purrs, leaning back and away from me. “I won't eat you again… unless you ask.”
Never happening again. Not by her anyway.
I rub my hands over my joggers, trying to focus on the cakes behind the counter, but a sharp scoff makes me tilt my head up. She's standing there, arms crossed, expression flat.
“I thought I told you—you're not allowed in here while I’m working.”
River steps up beside me, a sheepish half-smile on his face. I can already feel the tension crackling in the air.
“I take it you two know each other,” I chime in.
She side-eyes me, smirk twitching ever so slightly. “Not as well as you and me, babe,” she says, then gestures to River. “This big oaf, on the other hand, comes in most days, sits here, stares… until I finally kick him out.”
I jab him lightly. “Is that true?”
His face heats instantly, a flush spreading across his cheeks. “No,” he rubs the back of his neck. “How do you two know each other?” he looks between us.
I feel my own cheeks warm, hoping she won't say anything.
It would be utterly mortifying if he were to know.
She leans on the counter, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “I’m well acquainted with her pussy,” she announces casually.
I’m dead.
I freeze, tongue suddenly dry. “Oh my god,” I whisper, mortified, my skin probably turning red.
“I don't like dick, comprende?” she adds smoothly.
River just… stares.
Mouth open. Eyes wide. Soul visibly leaving his body.
“I think you broke him,” I tell her, shaking him slightly.
She flicks her hair back, entirely unbothered. “Sorry if he's your boyfriend—well, not really. You're hot and so my type.”
I snort before I can stop myself. “Not my boyfriend. Brother. And no offence, but I really do like men,” and there's a certain one I can't get out of my head. “Not that I have a problem with you—”
“Oh, I know, babe. I just like stirring the pot and a bit of flirting, don't worry your pretty little head.”
She's outrageous. Loud. Completely unapologetic and somehow comforting.
I can't help but wonder if Elijah is okay. I know he's with Ezra today, helping him out at his bar, but I kind of miss spending time with him.
“You look like something's on your mind.”
“It's complicated,” I say, exhaling. “But I would like a coffee. And maybe to know if you're hiring?”
Her face lights up. “I can settle for best friends then. And yes, we are. I’m picky, though. Most people irritate me, or they think I talk too much, then spit and quit.”
“Spit and quit?”
“They spit on the floor and walk out.” She grabs a cup. “Sometimes I clean it while I curse their family. Sometimes I leave it and see who slips.”
Can’t say I blame her.
I glance at River again. “Yeah. He's definitely broken.”
“Sorry,” he responds, rubbing his chin. “Just… horrified. And mildly heartbroken.”
“And traumatised,” I add.
It's not something I wanted my younger brother to know.
She just beams at him. “Relax, big guy—plenty of fish in the dirty sea. And for what it's worth,” her eyes flick back to me playfully, “you taste amazing. Whoever you're into is a lucky bastard.”
I bite my lip because he really isn't, and it will never happen.
“So,” she says, moving towards the coffee machine. “What’s your poison? Also, congrats, you've got the job. You start tomorrow.”
I squint at her. "Just like that?"
“Just like that.”
Easiest interview ever.
“I will have a coconut latte and a smoothie for him,” I add, nodding at River.
“Chocolate fudge cake with lots of ice cream,” he rushes out.
You wouldn't think he has to stay fit for football.
She stares at him. “Do I look like an ice cream parlour?”
He huffs. She ignores him.
“The name's Quinn. Sounds better if it's moaned, but whatever.”
I take my coffee, trying not to laugh. “I’m Willow, and this is River.”
Quinn pauses, looks him over. “Does your mum hate you?”
I burst out laughing.
“No,” he says defensively. “Why?”
“Oh… no reason,” she replies sweetly. “Lake.”
“That's not my name.”
“Sorry, Pond.”
I shake my head as she flips the sign to closed, spins dramatically, and plants her hands on her hips.
“On the house,” she announces, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward a booth. “Now, tell me about this complicated situation you mentioned. Then I’m introducing you to my very smutty book collection.”
River complains loudly about being forgotten. I let myself be dragged away, laughing, sinking into the booth as Quinn launches into stories about fictional men she’d sleep with if she were straight and her favourite book girlfriends.
For the first time in a while, I feel like myself.