Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
You can't just decide what I need and go buy it
SOPHIE
“So, I heard you saw Wyatt yesterday?” Poppy asks, sitting across from me at our embarrassingly small two-person dining table in our tiny kitchen.
“And how exactly did you hear that?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at her.
A smile curves her lips. “We’ve been texting. Oh my gosh, Sophie, he’s so hot.” She’s practically glowing.
“Yeah, he really is—like overwhelmingly handsome.”
Poppy glances down, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks pink. “You know, if you and Micah weren’t together, I might have been a little worried.”
“Why?”
“You see Wyatt a lot. And you’re gorgeous,” Poppy says simply. “Besides, I’d never hook up with someone you were involved with. Girl code, you know?”
I stare at her, almost laughing. It’s ridiculous—completely backwards.
Poppy is stunning; she’s effortlessly beautiful and it’s impossible to ignore.
She doesn’t pile on makeup or dress to show off, which is a shame because with her figure, she could stop traffic.
She’s easily one of the prettiest people I’ve ever met.
“Poppy, come on. First, Micah and I are not together. And you have nothing to worry about. I’m not interested in Wyatt at all—not that he’d ever look at me that way.” She opens her mouth to protest, but I wave her off. “And I saw the way Wyatt looked at you. You two definitely connected.”
Her face brightens instantly. “We did, right? He’s so sweet. Look.” She pushes her phone toward me, showing their text thread.
Wyatt says good night before he goes to sleep, and it looks like they’ve already had coffee together once or twice.
He’s just gotten out of a relationship, and he’s handsome—too handsome.
I just hope Poppy isn’t his rebound. I don’t know him well enough to say if he’s the type to sleep around like I know Grant is.
But what I do know is that she has a date tonight. “Is your date tonight with Wyatt?”
“No, it’s with Chris—a football guy. He’s so funny and his body—ugh—is perfection.” She leans back, a small smile tugging at her lips. “And he’s amazing in bed. He does this thing with his hands when—”
I throw my hands up. “Poppy! Oh my God.”
She laughs, completely unbothered. “What? It’s fun. And Chris is upfront about not wanting anything serious, which is fine because neither do I right now. I told you, I want to meet different people, figure out what I like. I’m sure Wyatt’s probably doing the same.”
She says it so casually. So confidently, that I’m almost envious.
I stare at her, trying to mask how clueless I feel. Is this normal? Sleeping with different people while casually dating?
My chest tightens unexpectedly.
Does Wyatt do that too? Does Micah? They’re both gorgeous, wealthy, charming—I’m sure they have tons of options.
I look back at Poppy, who’s scrolling through her texts again, smiling like this is all so easy for her.
I wouldn’t know. I’ve never casually dated around. I’ve never really dated at all.
There’s half an hour left of my bookstore shift. It’s been productive—more productive than most days, honestly. I get a lot of studying done while I’m here. And I’m getting paid for it, so that’s a win.
Poppy always makes sure I have snacks—and occasionally a sandwich—tucked into my bag, so I’m not even hungry right now. It’s really been great living with her. I’m really lucky to have found her.
Also, studying with Wyatt helped a lot. He explained some of the trickier Con Law concepts in a way that actually makes sense.
He’s clearly passionate about it—not surprising, considering it probably runs in his blood.
His dad’s a judge on the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court, after all.
Wyatt would make a great lawyer, just like his father was before becoming a judge.
Maybe that’s why all of this feels harder for me.
Because unlike Wyatt, I don’t want this.
Not really. Getting a scholarship to Westcliffe hadn’t been too difficult—I kept good grades in high school without trying too hard.
We’d go through one chapter a week back then.
Now it’s an entire chapter per lecture, and keeping my scholarship feels like a constant uphill climb.
If I had the freedom, I’d love to take some writing courses. But I finished my writing requirements last year, and I can’t afford to waste credits on classes that don’t count toward my major.
I pull out the small notebook I carry everywhere, and flip through the recent pages.
Micah. Micah. Micah. Written on almost every page.
He’s been in my head way too much lately. If anyone ever got their hands on this notebook, they’d think I’m a full-on crazy stalker.
But maybe I should take him up on that date.
I know I’d get attached—of course I would—but maybe I should just suck it up.
Honestly, it wouldn’t even be the worst thing in the world to finally lose my virginity.
And if it were with Micah, I think I might actually feel safe. I don’t think he’d judge me.
The bell above the door rings, and I look up to see Micah. Of course.
I hurriedly shove my notebook under the counter. If he ever read the things I wrote in there, I’d die on the spot.
He’s wearing a Westcliffe shirt again.
“You know you don’t have to wear that, right?” I say, smiling despite myself. “What Ella says about my wardrobe doesn’t bother me.”
“Who’s Ella? I’m wearing this because I have an excellent sense of style.”
My heart skips—like it always does when he says things like that. I know he’s just trying to make me feel at ease, but it works too well. Every little thing he does makes my stomach flutter to the point of pain.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
“What, I can’t come to the campus bookstore and pick up some books?” he teases.
“Okay, then what books are you looking for?” I press, raising a brow.
“Uh, a dictionary?” He flashes a cocky smile.
I roll my eyes as he walks up to the register.
“Did you eat lunch?” he asks.
“Yeah, Poppy made me a sandwich.” I hold up the crumpled wrapper as proof.
“Good.” He leans casually against the counter, but there’s something deliberate in his tone when he says, “Actually, I came here to talk to you about something.”
“I’m listening,” I say, trying to sound unaffected.
“I have an extra car. I don’t use it much since I usually take the BMW. I was wondering if you could, you know, take it off my hands. Drive it to class, the cafe, home.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
“Cars shouldn’t sit unused for too long. It’s bad for them,” he explains, his tone way too casual for what he’s asking. “You’d be doing me a favor, honestly.”
“That’s insane. Micah, I can’t. I already told you I don’t have much driving experience. I’d never forgive myself if I scratched it or—God forbid—crashed it.”
He shakes his head. “It’s fine. It’s not nearly as expensive as my BMW, and that’s what insurance is for anyway.”
I cross my arms. “Even if you say that, I wouldn’t be able to pay you back if something happened.”
“You won’t need to. Please, Sophie.” His voice softens, almost pleading. “It’s just sitting there. You’d really be helping me.”
“Can’t Grant or Wyatt use it?”
“They have their own cars,” he says with an easy shrug. “It’s really not a big deal. Learn to drive with it, get scratches on it if you have to. I’ll take care of it. I’m a Vale, remember?” He winks, with a cocky smile tugging at his mouth.
I stare at him, torn between horror and maybe a little curiosity.
“I don’t know, Micah. I feel like this is a terrible idea,” I murmur.
“It’s not,” he insists, leaning a little closer. “Come on, Soph. For me?”
I sigh, shaking my head. “Okay, fine. I guess I can take it off your hands. For a bit.”
His grin is immediate, bright enough to make my chest tighten. “Thank you, Soph. Promise? You’re a real lifesaver.”
“Sure.”
Honestly, I don’t even know what to think when it comes to him anymore.
“Let me drive you to my place so you can pick it up. When do you get off?” he asks.
“I’m actually done now. Lucy’s got it from here.” I point to Lucy, who’s reorganizing some laptop sleeves in the tech section.
MICAH
I asked Marianne to find an SUV for Sophie—nothing too expensive, because she’d never accept it if it looked pricey, something easy for a new driver to handle, and safe above all else.
She mentioned that Tiger Woods survived a severe crash in a Genesis SUV because of all its safety features.
But she warned it might be too big for Sophie, so we settled on the more compact version.
I had it delivered to the parking lot behind the cafe; I didn’t want Sophie stressing over pulling it out of a tight parking garage her first time driving.
I also told Marianne to make sure it didn’t look too new.
Sophie steps out of my car and toward my—well, her new car.
Her smile spreads instantly, her eyes wide and bright, and I can’t help grinning.
The car isn’t huge, but she looks so small standing next to it.
She's not that short, but she's so slight that I find myself making a mental note to feed her a proper steak sometime.
“Wow, Micah. This car is so pretty! I can’t imagine you driving a white car.” she exclaims, almost bouncing. “It’s my favorite color.”
I make another mental note.
I toss her the keys, and she practically skips to the driver’s side before sliding in. I follow, settling into the passenger seat.
“Micah, this is amazing. Are you sure you trust me to take care of it?” she asks, still looking around the interior like she can’t believe it.
It’s yours, I want to say. But I keep it casual. “Yeah, of course. If anything comes up, just let me know.”
She studies the dashboard, her smile faltering slightly.
“Micah, is this a new car?” she asks, suspicious.
“No,” I lie.
“There’s less than thirty miles on it,” she says, narrowing her eyes at the odometer. “And it smells like a brand new car.”
I give her my best innocent look. “I told you. I don’t use it. And you promised, remember? Thanks again, Soph. You’re really doing me a solid.”