Chapter 3 #2
He flicked his gaze down briefly, to the front of my coat—where the small silver Parkhurst Prep pin caught the light. When his eyes lifted again, they were colder.
“Trust me,” he said. “I know enough.”
That did it. The embarrassment burned away, replaced by something hot and indignant. “You think because I go to a private school, I don’t care about anyone but myself? Because that’s a pretty big assumption to make after exactly one accident.”
He looked at me for a long moment. Then he shrugged, like it wasn’t worth the effort to argue.
“I think,” he said, “that I don’t need to know you to know how this goes.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” I repeated.
“And thank heaven for that.”
He turned away before I could say anything else, reaching for two cups behind the counter. The machine hissed loudly, filling the space where my response should’ve been.
I stood there, stunned, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
Ainsley tugged me away from the register so the next people in line could order.
She mumbled something about the guy being a jerk and to just ignore him, but I barely heard her words as I watched him make our drinks, feeling like my skin was on fire.
I’d apologized. Twice. I hadn’t made excuses or laughed it off or pretended it didn’t matter. I’d stood there and owned it, which was what you were supposed to do when you messed up. That was the rule. Say sorry. Mean it. Move on.
He moved behind the counter with quick, efficient motions, like nothing we’d said mattered at all.
Like I hadn’t just stood there and tried to make things right.
And that part burned worse than the embarrassment.
I could handle being clumsy or awkward or even annoying. I couldn’t handle being dismissed.
I was still stewing over it when he set our drinks down on the counter, movements clipped. I was just reaching for my cup when his voice made me pause. “Careful. They’re hot.”
Any other time, it would have just been a kind warning. From him, it was just daunting.
“I know,” I snapped.
He raised a brow. “Don’t spill it.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Like you weren’t planning on it earlier?”
I let out a deep sigh, trying to hold my anger in.
“Maybe,” I said, “you’re just mad because the coffee wasn’t that good.”
He snorted before he could stop himself. “Sure.”
“It could’ve been worse,” I added, because apparently I’d lost all sense of self-preservation. “At least the floor didn’t complain.”
His expression shifted, going from angry to almost amused. Almost.
He leaned forward, forearms bracing against the counter, closing the space just enough that I could smell the coffee on his breath—dark, bitter, and unfairly distracting. His voice dropped when he spoke, like the words were meant for me alone.
“There you go again,” he said, his voice quiet but deep, “saying things you don’t mean.”
Heat crept up my neck, traitorous and sudden. My embarrassment from earlier was fading away, being replaced by something I hadn’t expected to feel tonight—an understanding of why other girls were flocking here to see this boy.
But I couldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing his effect on me, so I just lifted my chin and stared right back at him. I could just imagine what he was thinking of me. Some spoiled private school girl who’d never worked a day in her life. Too mouthy. Too sheltered. Too used to getting her way.
“It was the best coffee you’ve ever had,” he went on, eyes steady on mine, “and you know it.”
The worst part was that he was completely right. But I wasn’t about to go and admit that, so I just narrowed my eyes at him and said, “No, I can promise you that I meant that too.”
I turned on my heel and walked away, heart thudding far too loudly for someone who’d supposedly just won. I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to. I could feel his eyes on me anyway, heavy as a hand between my shoulder blades.
“What just happened?” Ainsley asked as we stepped away. I just laughed and shook my head.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly.
We were almost at the couch Clementine and Reese had claimed, but I felt all flushed and jittery after the conversation I’d just had. I needed to splash some cold water on my face or something.
“Hey,” I said, passing my cup into Ainsley’s hands before she could protest. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I scanned the café, expecting a hallway or at least a clearly marked door, but all I saw was the narrow staircase tucked beside the counter, half-hidden by a pillar. Bathrooms upstairs made sense. Extra seating, too. The place was packed, after all.
The noise from downstairs faded with each step, the music turning into a soft vibration through the walls.
The only sound up here was the soft click of the heels of my black boots hitting the steps.
The top of the staircase opened to a small landing.
On one side there were hooks covered in coats and a mat of boots along the floor.
I guess this was where they kept the coats from the coat check?
It seemed a little odd to have it so far away from where we handed them over, but I guess if this was the easier spot, it worked.
The other two walls of the landing each had a door. Neither of them were marked as men’s or women’s, so I just pushed open the one to my right, figuring it was a single-stall washroom.
I was wrong.