Chapter 4
ALANA
THERE’S A LOT a girl will wait for—the barista getting her latte just right, the traffic light turning green after it’s been on red for three solid minutes.
She’ll wait in line at Target behind the woman with twenty coupons and a cart full of groceries just to bring home that perfect ottoman.
She’ll even wait for her favorite song to come back on when her playlist is set to shuffle.
But one thing she should never wait for is a man who is late to the library on day one of their so-called truce partnership.
I have a part-time job at Café Baguette.
A full-time class schedule with additional credits added on just to make my scholarship stretch that much further.
Add on a one-bedroom apartment I’ve forcefully neglected over the entire course of my academic career but have total responsibility for, and most of my days are already allotted for.
So, the last thing I have extra time for is sitting around waiting for Jake Cooper.
I hit the screen on my phone for what feels like the millionth time—3:28 p.m. He’s nearly a half hour late to what was his meeting time, without even a text.
It’s incredibly rude. Quite possibly ruder than our initial encounter at this point.
I let out a frustrated sigh, turning towards the beaming rays of sunlight filtering through the ancient library’s arched window. Why on earth am I waiting for him?
Maybe it’s because I could actually use his help since this is the hardest business class I’ve had to date, and the last one I need as a performing arts major, who’s only minoring in business.
The previous classes weren’t half bad, but this Stanley guy lays the work on thick.
He clearly doesn’t care who you are or what your major is.
And I’m pretty sure he hates Jake—which is weird.
I wonder why Stanley gives him such a hard time.
He’s clearly going through something; lost something or someone and seemingly himself.
It’s not like you can’t tell. I mean, he wears his detached persona like a badge of honor, all repressed and reclused.
Maybe it’s more like a warning sign telling the whole world to back off.
I should have heeded to said warning, but instead, I thrusted myself toward it, as usual. I would never be sitting here if I had just kept my mouth shut and let Jake get reamed out by Stanley for the four-thousandth time, all sad and frustrated and alone.
My heart quivers in my chest, and I’m reminded just how much I could never leave someone alone in their hurt like that, like he is.
I tap my phone to see another three minutes have passed.
“That’s it, I’m calling it,” I huff.
“Calling what?” A low, almost commanding voice asks from behind me.
I turn to see Jake’s tall, broad frame rounding the corner of the large wooden table I’m seated behind. He settles in across from me. I don’t miss the two coffees in his large hand, or the endearing downward grin on his lips, but he won’t get off that easily.
“You’re late,” I accuse, my expression vibrantly annoyed.
“Am not,” he responds with a furrowed brow.
“Yes, you are. You said three o’clock and it’s well past that.”
“Um, actually, I said three thirty, and it is in fact…” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and lights the screen. His eyes are back on mine in a second. “Three thirty-two.”
His eyes glisten with his victory, the afternoon sun pouring in through Battle Hall’s antique windows making them shimmer in the light .
They’re much greener today. The brown is almost orange around his pupils, the flecks of bronze like tiny stars in his eyes shining brighter.
Staring at them like this immediately makes my stomach sink with a nervousness I have no business feeling.
Like being at the peak of a roller coaster right before the drop, except roller coasters you choose to get on.
I, in this case, have no idea why this is happening.
“Also,” he starts, pushing a tall Styrofoam cup toward me. “I got you a coffee. So, you can’t be mad.”
My belly flutters, and I tongue my cheek to keep from smiling. “Bribery is a federal crime, Cooper.”
“What’re you, a cop?” He grins and brings his cup to his lips.
I take his peace offering. “What if I am?” I challenge. “What if I’m a criminal justice major who’s just taking a business course for her independent elective?”
Jake gives me a questioning glare, and a smile plays on his lips. “Did you just make that up?”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
“You’re not a criminal justice major,” he says knowingly.
“How do you know?”
Jake’s lips twist into a sideways grin. “Well, for one, you don’t give off ‘law-abiding citizen’ vibes.
You have more of a ‘take no shit, bulldoze my way if I have to’ approach, which is more detective than anything, so I guess you could be a criminal justice major.
” He pauses a moment before continuing. “But you’re nice.
Like bleeding heart nice,” he adds. For some reason, it doesn’t seem like an afterthought.
An anxious bubble bursts in my belly. I can’t explain it, but his words leave me feeling vulnerable and exposed. I’m not quite sure what to do with it.
“What’s two?” I ask, because clearly, I want to suffer more in this newfound sensation.
“Huh?”
“You said ‘for one.’ What's two?”
“Oh.” He repositions himself in his wooden chair. He shrugs. “You’re just not.”
“You don’t even know me,” I say, and immediately, I hate how defensive I sound. Jake dismisses it entirely.
“I’m not saying I do. It was just a feeling,” he says lightly, not accusatory at all.
I want to shake off the stunned part of me that’s lost in the truth of his words, but I can’t seem to manage.
“Are you good at reading people or something?”
“Why?” He smirks. “Did I get you right?”
“No,” I lie, which only deepens his smirk.
“I used to be good at it.” His expression falls before his eyes trail away. “Or… I thought I was, I guess. I don’t know. Haven’t met anyone worth reading in a while, so…maybe it’s back.” He takes a sip of his coffee and looks out the large window.
A mix of emotion envelops me, making me uneasy. Confusion and sadness fill me, swimming with a flattered little thrill. It sparks a curiosity I probably shouldn’t follow.
“What’s your story, Jake?”
His eyes meet mine again, void of the playfulness they held. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what’s your story? Who are you? Why are you here?”
He pauses for a moment, his eyes burning holes into mine. “Those are pretty loaded questions for a guy you just met.” He sits back into his chair and spins his cup in his hands.
“Well, like you said, I’m a no-nonsense kind of girl. Any good partnership thrives off getting to know one another—”
“It’s a temporary partnership,” he clarifies.
“Still a partnership,” I confirm.
A challenging silence falls between us, and I watch as he tries to decide whether he should answer me or not.
“Fine.” He releases a breath. “I’m here to get a business degree in hopes of working at some high-level investment bank after.
I was supposed to graduate in May. I was working through a paid internship here in Austin and had one lined up at Stratford Financial, but I got…
distracted, so things didn’t work out. Now I’m here trying to fix it. ”
I let his words sit between us before I fill the space with more. I can tell he’s let down by his own choices. Maybe even more than that. I don’t want to put a damper on his day, but I can’t help the aching curiosity that has me wanting to know everything about him.
“Well, this may not seem fitting considering it didn’t work out and all, but congratulations.
That’s quite an internship to land.” He nods silently, his lips pursed as his tongue grazes his teeth.
When he doesn’t break his silence, I continue.
“I hear Stratford pays well for their programs. And almost always hire their interns before they finish it.”
“Yup,” he breathes, but he doesn’t add more.
I know this is my cue. I should open my books now and move on. Change the subject and get started on what we came here to do…but I just can’t help myself.
“What distracted you so bad that you gave all that up?”
His eyes remain on his cup, absently searching it for answers. Then he exhales before he finally says, “A girl.”
I swallow down the icy jealousy that licks my ego and remind myself it has no place being here. “A girl, huh?” is all I say.
He doesn’t respond—yet another billboard sign to shut the hell up and move on already. But like the Nosy Nelly I can’t stop myself from being today, I ask another prying question.
“Where’s the girl now?”
His stern gaze meets mine, and my heart skips a beat in my chest. “Like I said,” he says flatly. “Things didn’t work out.”
This time, I’m the one who nods silently.
“What about you?” He asks. “What’s your story?”
“Me?” I begin to sort through the filing cabinet in my mind—the one filled with the things I’m supposed to say, but I come up helplessly blank. I stare at him.
“Ah, I see how it is. Ask, but don’t tell.” He smirks, and my chest flutters the slightest bit at the sight of it.
“Yes. I mean, no,” I stumble, feeling warmth touch my cheeks. “Um—”
“I’m just kidding,” he chuckles, and I don’t miss the anxious wave in my belly. “Don’t get all nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.” Lie. I totally am, and I have no idea why.
I straighten in my seat, aiming to seem more confident than off-kilter like I strangely am.
“I earned a scholarship to UT my junior year of high school. It’s supposed to cover four years of classes, books and all that, but I’m finishing in three, so it’s covered most of my other expenses, too.
It’s worked out so far. I mean, I still work, but barely, which is good because I don’t really have the time with the extra classes. ”
“At Café Baguette,” is his only response.
“Yeah,” I breathe.
Another flash of nervousness runs through me at the fact that he’s seen me before. And remembers.
“I’m a performing arts major,” I continue after clearing my throat. “I’m hoping to open a hybrid style dance studio or something. Maybe. I don't know. But, anyway, that’s how I ended up minoring in business.”
Jake cocks his head to the side. “You say it like it’s not possible.”
I shrug, trying my best to come off indifferent. “It’s more of a pipe dream than a set goal, really.”
“Why’s that?” he asks, eyes pinned on mine. Surprisingly, I find the truth creeping its way to my lips. But unsurprisingly, it dies on my tongue. I’d never have the courage to tell him all my truths.
“This class is actually really important to me, and I’m a little intimidated by it, so I really appreciate the help,” I say instead. “Especially since you’ve taken it before.”
And then I realize how insensitive that sounds.
“I mean, sorry,” I say, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean like… I know you didn’t... Sorry.”
“It’s okay, I get what you mean. My loss is your gain,” he says halfheartedly.
My neck heats. I can physically feel the shade of pink my cheeks are turning. “No, that’s not—”
“Relax,” he chuckles again. “It’s not a problem.”
I want to sink into myself and forget this entire conversation ever happened.
“It’s really impressive you’re finishing school so quickly. I’m sure that wasn’t easy,” he adds. “I’m happy I can help.”
“Really?” I ask, truly appreciating how not offended he is right now.
“Sure.” He smiles, and relief comes over me, warming my chest.
I know I barely know this man, and what I’ve recently seen of him has been broody and intense, but if I could pick one word to describe the light in his eyes right now, the only one that would do it justice would be wholesome.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I think if he weren’t carrying that weight around with him, that’s exactly what he’d be all the time.
The corner of my mouth lifts at the thought. I finally grab my coffee and take a sip. My tastebuds shriek in delight, surprised by the flavor. “Cinnamon vanilla latte?”
“Mm-hmm,” he hums. His satisfied grin meets my questioning gaze. “Smelled the obnoxiousness of it from across the aisle for four whole weeks. You seemed very sugar and spice, anyway.” He winks. “Figured I had half a shot.”
And once again, I’m left speechless.
I want to be bothered by the odd fluttering spell my belly has been put under. I want to be annoyed that he got my drink nearly perfect on his very first try. Okay, fine—he got it spot on, but that’s not the point.
The point is I want to be bothered by something right now, anything that will put me off by him, but instead, all I feel is an overwhelming excitement I know I shouldn’t give in to.
If there’s one thing I can’t afford, it’s distractions, and this exchange of ours has all the signs of being just that.
If not, worse.