Chapter 19
nineteen
It was a good thing I liked some noise when I studied, because The Corner Cup was busier than ever after school the next day.
Every chair and couch had been taken by students and the only seat available had been at the counter, squished up against the wall, but I was so desperate to escape my house after walking in on Sebastian and Nora making out on the living room couch that even that spot seemed heavenly, and I snatched it up without a second thought.
I pulled on my headphones to make it clear that I wasn’t interested in making small talk, but didn’t play any music, happy to just listen to the ambience of the coffee shop as I worked.
People chatting, the espresso machine going, Cole stacking cups in the corner right by me for at least ten minutes straight…
I tapped my Apple Pencil against the edge of my iPad—the new one my dad had given me, the old one tucked away in my desk now—and watched Cole as he carefully put some dark green mugs in their spot on the counter.
I was no expert on working at a coffee shop, but I had a feeling there was other stuff he should probably be prioritizing over this.
Especially since he’d gone from putting the mugs on the shelf to just turning them so they were all facing the same direction.
Then turning them again so they were the other way.
I stifled a laugh as I pulled my headphones off my head and let them hang around my neck. I propped my elbow on the counter, resting my hand in my chin.
“Whatcha up to?” I asked.
“Fixing the mugs,” he said matter-of-factly. He took a step back, admiring the line of mugs, then stepped forward and started twisting them again like he was fixing an art display.
“You’ve been fixing those cups for like twenty minutes straight.” I tilted my head, my mouth twisting up in a small smile. “You trying to stay near me or something?”
He cuts his gaze to me and a warmth spreads in my chest. Since Saturday night, the looks he gave me have started to feel warmer, more welcoming, more teasing. And I realized I really liked the way it felt instead of battling with him.
Cole finally abandons the mugs and stands in front of me. He rests an elbow on the counter and leans on it casually. “I would be a pretty bad stalker if I didn’t stay near you, Princess.” He winked at me, then pushed off the counter to shift the milk frother a quarter of an inch.
“Thank goodness you were here to fix that,” I said drily.
“This place would fall apart without me, Imogen.”
“Right.” I tapped my pencil against the edge of the iPad again, and Cole’s eyes flicked to it. He smirked, just barely, and then, before I could react, he snagged my Apple Pencil off the side of the iPad.
“Hey!” I lunged for it over the counter.
He was already stepping back, taller than me by a good head, holding it just out of reach. “What’s this?” he teased, spinning it between his fingers. “Yours?”
“Give it back!” I snapped, half-laughing, half-frustrated, stretching as far as I could without toppling onto his side of the counter. “I need it!”
Cole casually tossed the pencil up and caught it, taunting me with it. “Need it… or want it?” His grin was infuriating.
I grabbed at his wrist, narrowly missing the pencil as he leaned just out of reach. “Both!” I gasped, lunging again, barely grazing his wrist as he leaned just out of reach.
With quick, effortless steps, he moved back, still holding the pencil high above his head like I might actually reach it if I tried. I flopped back onto my stool and glared at him. Cole let out a laugh, then lifted the little section of countertop up to create a walkway.
“C’mon, keep up.”
I stared after him for a beat, trying to figure out if he was teasing or not.
He was walking backwards, amused eyes locked on me.
He lifted the pencil again and waved it at me.
I cursed under my breath, hopped off the stool, and followed, weaving between employees carrying drinks and pastries.
My heart hammered, partly from sprinting, partly because he was laughing right in front of me.
He ducked under the counter, spinning out of my grasp like it was nothing.
I scrambled after him, hand stretching out, fingertips grazing his shirt sleeve. “Cole! Stop!”
He stopped just long enough to grin, then darted toward the sink, spinning the pencil on his finger. “You really are persistent,” he said, voice low, teasing. “I like that.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop smiling, breath catching as I lunged again. This time, he leaned down, blocking me with his longer frame. “Not so fast.”
I jabbed at the pencil, finally snagging it—but he grabbed my wrist playfully at the same time, holding it between his hands.
My arm brushed against his chest, and I froze.
He didn’t move, just looked at me with those dark eyes, the kitchen suddenly quieter except for the hum of the espresso machine and our ragged breathing.
I tucked the pencil safely in my bag, cheeks burning, and glanced up at him. He was leaning casually against the counter, looking way too calm for someone who’d just spent the last two minutes tormenting me.
Our hands brushed, and the contact sent a jolt straight to my chest. I yanked lightly, but it still took him a minute to let go, like he wasn’t sure he really wanted to. “Thank you,” I said softly.
Cole’s fingers lingered for half a second too long before he finally let go. “You’re welcome,” he replied, voice just as quiet. Something unreadable flickered across his face before he straightened, clearing his throat and stepping back like he remembered where he was.
“Cole!”
We both jumped at the sharp voice cutting through the kitchen. His aunt stood near the register, arms crossed, eyebrows raised so high it was practically in her hairline.
“What exactly is going on back there?” she asked.
Cole shifted smoothly into work mode, resting his hands on the counter like he hadn’t just been tormenting me. “Customer service.”
I snorted before I could stop myself. His aunt’s gaze slid to me. Then to the Apple Pencil clutched in my hand. Then back to Cole. “Customer service involves stealing people’s stuff now?”
He shrugged. “Quality control.”
She sighed, shaking her head. “Get back to work. And honey, behind the counter is employees only.”
I flushed. “Sorry.”
“I kidnapped her,” Cole said.
His aunt hid a smile despite herself. “Out. Both of you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. His aunt nodded and continued on her way. Once she was out of earshot, Cole leaned closer, so close that I could feel the faint warmth of him. “Come on. I’ll show you something.”
I blinked. “Show me… what?”
He gave me a grin that made my stomach twist. “A secret.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the main floor. “But you have to be quiet. My aunt’s got eyes like a hawk.”
I hesitated, glancing toward the counter where his aunt was busy serving customers. “Cole… I don’t know if I should—”
He smirked and grabbed my hand before I could protest. “Trust me. Nobody will see us. Come on.”
Before I could argue further, he guided me behind the counter, ducking low so we wouldn’t be visible over the espresso machine.
He moved with a confidence that made it seem like he’d done this a hundred times, even though sneaking someone into the kitchen seemed like the sort of thing you only did once.
“Stay close,” he whispered, nudging me toward the tiny doorway that led into the kitchen. I swallowed, my pulse hammering in my chest. The kitchen smelled like rich coffee and warm pastries, a heady mix that made my head spin.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I murmured, half-excited, half-panicked. “It’s… employees only.”
He chuckled, low and teasing. “Exactly. That’s what makes it fun.”
Once we were inside, he shut the door softly and leaned against the counter, watching me take in the small space.
Stainless steel countertops gleamed, cups stacked neatly, and the espresso machine hissed and steamed in the background.
I felt like I’d wandered into a secret world, one that wasn’t meant for customers—let alone me.
Suddenly Cole was standing in front of me, a smirk playing at his lips as he laid a black apron over my neck.
I looked down at it, at The Corner Cup logo stitched on the corner, then back up at him.
Confusion must have been blatantly written across my face because he just laughed. “There. Now you can be back here.”
“I don’t think wearing an apron makes me an employee.”
His eyes glittered with mischief. “Alright then.” He stepped back and led the way to the espresso machine.
“Okay, so first, you start with the espresso,” he said, grabbing the portafilter and filling it with freshly ground beans.
His hands moved quickly but with deliberate care, scooping the perfect amount, then leveling it off.
He held it out to me. “Here—watch closely. You want it tight, but not too tight. Otherwise, it’ll taste bitter. ”
I leaned in, fascinated, even though every instinct screamed that I shouldn’t be in the kitchen.
His body was just behind mine, and I could feel the warmth radiating off him, a constant, electric presence brushing against my back.
“Wow… you make it look so easy,” I said, my voice quieter than I meant.
He shrugged, glancing at me over his shoulder, and I caught that flash of amusement in his dark eyes. “Years of practice,” he said lightly, but his gaze lingered just a second too long for it to be casual. “Next, steam the milk.”
He handed me the frothing pitcher, and I gripped it like it was a delicate treasure, careful not to spill.
He stepped back again, trusting me to froth the milk as he grabbed a mug and pumped syrup in it.
The milk hissed as I placed it under the steam wand.
I jumped slightly at the first burst of heat, and he chuckled low behind me. “Careful, it’s hot.”
“You make it look so… effortless,” I admitted nervously, watching the froth swirl and bubble.
“You won’t mess it up,” he said, stepping even closer. I could feel his chest brushing my back now, his arm nearly grazing mine as he leaned in. “Just feel it with your hand. Listen to the sound.”
I followed his instructions, letting my fingers rest against the pitcher. He moved around me, adjusting my grip ever so slightly, guiding my wrist with just a touch that sent a jolt up my arm. My heart was racing—partly from the closeness, partly because every small movement felt electric.
“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice low, just behind my ear.
My stomach fluttered, and I had to remind myself to breathe.
Then he leaned a fraction closer, guiding the milk in a slow, steady pour over the espresso.
His hands brushed mine, fingers lingering a heartbeat longer than necessary.
I froze for a moment, aware of the heat of him so close, the faint scent of coffee and something else—him.
Finally, he stepped back just enough to place the cup in front of me, espresso layered neatly beneath the creamy milk and whatever syrup he had put into the cup for me. “Voilà. Your very own… top-secret creation,” he said, grinning like he’d conjured magic.
I lifted the cup carefully, taking a slow, deliberate sip. The warmth spread through me, rich and smooth, just sweet enough. My heart was pounding, not from the caffeine, but from standing here, close to him, sharing this forbidden moment.
I stared at the drink, then up at him, cheeks flaming. “This… this is amazing. How did you even think of this?”
He tilted his head, watching me, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Experimentation,” he said lightly. “And a bit of luck. But mostly…” His gaze caught mine, intense and teasing. “…I like doing things for people who appreciate it.”
He leaned against the counter across from me, still watching me like I was the most interesting thing he’d seen all day.
I tried to focus on the drink, but my eyes kept drifting back to him, and I realized this little secret, this quiet closeness, was far more intoxicating than any coffee could ever be.