Page 42 of That's Too Pucking Bad

I hesitate, the weight of his stare pressing into me, and finally, I nod. “Fine, but just coffee… as friends.”

His grin spreads, warm and satisfied. “Goodnight, Remy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With one last lingering look, he watches me as I step out into the rain.

The coffee shop is tucked away like some well-kept secret, wedged between a bookstore and a little bakery. From the outside, it looks unassuming—just a simple wooden sign with “Mocha & Mischief” scrawled in a loopy font. But inside, it’s warm, cozy, with old armchairs and the faintest scent of cinnamon hanging in the air. The walls are covered in book pages, plastered there like a collage, some quotes scribbled on them in neat black marker. It’s weirdly charming, like stepping into someone’s quirky living room.

I tug on the sleeve of my oversized sweater, fiddling with the loose threads at the cuffs, trying to stay warm. My fingers are fidgeting as I push my glasses up and glance around. Zane asked me to meet him here, which feels random—thirty minutes out from my place by cab, in a coffee shop I’ve never heard of before. Typical Zane move, pulling me halfway across town without a word why.

I’m wearing leggings and my favorite old sneakers that look like they’ve been through hell. The sweater I threw on has a big, cartoonish drawing of two characters from a romance series, looking all lovey-dovey on the front. It’s goofy, and maybe a little embarrassing, but whatever—it’s warm.

“Hey there,” a voice interrupts my sweater-picking, and I look up to see the barista smiling at me. He’s got blond curls and a piercing in his nose, a grin that’s more welcoming than flirty, which is actually refreshing. His name tag reads “Aaron.”

“Hi,” I say, returning his smile. “Can I just get a, uh… latte, I guess? Extra foam.”

“Coming right up.” He glances down at my sweater, grin widening. “No way. You’re aStorms of Passionfan?”

“Uh, guilty,” I laugh, feeling the slightest bit of warmth rush to my cheeks. “You actually know that series?”

“Are you kidding? Tessa and Brant? I live for that angst. ‘No one hurts me like you do, and yet…’” He breaks off, doing a melodramatic swoon, which cracks me up.

“Oh my god, that line,” I say, groaning. “It’s so dramatic it’s almost painful, but I love it.”

He laughs, and it’s nice. Easy. I start to feel more at home here when the door swings open, and my whole body goes tense. I turn to see Zane stepping in, his gaze flicking around the place until it lands on me. He’s in a black leather jacket, jeans, and a dark shirt that hugs him in all the right places. There’s a smile on his face—an easy, crooked one that dies the second he spots Aaron.

Zane strides over, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the barista still laughing with me. Without a word, he hooks an arm around my waist and pulls me in, leaning down to press his lips against mine in a kiss that’s way too much for a public place. I blink, surprised, but… not exactly hating it.

“Hi,” I murmur when he pulls back, my heart doing a weird skip.

“Hey.” He’s still got that arm around me, like he’s staking a claim, and his eyes are locked onto Aaron, who’s just kind of awkwardly standing there, looking between us. Zane’s mouth twitches. “You were saying?”

Aaron clears his throat, a little taken aback. “Uh… latte. Extra foam, right?”

“That’d be perfect,” I say, my voice a little breathless. Zane just keeps staring at him, lips pressed into a smug little smile. Aaron finally turns back to the counter, muttering something about the drink.

“What the hell was that?” I mutter, shoving him lightly once Aaron’s out of earshot. “Are you trying to mark your territory or something?”

He just shrugs, totally unbothered. “Is it a problem?”

“Yes, it is,” I hiss, trying not to make a scene. “I’m not yours, you know.”

He leans down, his mouth right by my ear, and whispers, “I don’t like other guys thinking you’re available, Remy. You’re mine.”

“Actually I’m not. I am being friendly with you because you keep insisting to see me, and you seem to conveniently forget that I have a boyfriend.” I cross my arms, but it’s like I can still feel his arm around me, even though he’s let go. “I’m not some… possession, Zane.”

He smirks, completely unfazed. “Sure you’re not. But you’re not exactly putting up a fight right now, are you?”

I roll my eyes, even as warmth creeps into my stomach. “You’re out of control.”

“Maybe,” he says, sliding into the chair next to mine. “But I’m right.”

Aaron comes back, setting down my latte with a shaky smile. Zane gives him a dismissive nod, and Aaron quickly disappears behind the counter, probably praying for his shift to end.

“Was that really necessary?” I whisper, sipping my latte as Zane leans back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Yep.” He reaches over, steals my cup, and takes a sip before I can even react.

I shake my head. “I will never meet you for coffee ever again.”

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