Page 162 of Scattered Glitter

He chuckles, looking a little sheepish. “I was joking.”

“I wasn’t,” I reply smoothly. “I’m able to buy you a four-dollar coffee, Nico.”

His eyes seem to light up when I say his shortened name. “Thank you, then.”

“So, how do you like it?”

His eyes flit between mine, and he licks his lips, answering, “Black, please.”

“Really? Didn’t think you were one ofthosepeople.”

I step up to the counter to place his order. I add my own, something indulgent and loaded with sugar, as it should be, and pay, returning the barista’s friendly smile as she hands over our drinks.

Passing Nicholas his coffee, I watch closely as he takes a careful sip. “Thanks,” he offers, holding my gaze, that casual warmthin his expression. “What kind of people were you talking about?”

“People with no taste.” I shrug with a smirk. “I had to watch to see if you truly enjoyed that.”

He huffs out a laugh. “So, what’s yours then?” he asks, gesturing to the drink in my hand.

I lift my cup with a grin. “Perfection.” I extend it toward him. “Wanna try? It’s not that hot.”

He leans in and takes a sip, then pulls back with a grimace. “That’s… pretty much diabetes in a cup.”

“It’s the only way to drink coffee,” I counter, taking a pointed, long sip, savoring the sweetness.

“So.” He raises a brow. “You’re into sweets?”

“Why would you think that?” I ask, feigning innocence.

“Well, first of all, you smell like fucking jellybeans.”

“Pity you’re not into sweets, then,” I reply casually, noting the glint in his eye.

“I never said that.” He steps a little closer, his gaze meeting mine. “I’m very much into sweets…”

Heat creeps up my cheeks, and I catch myself wondering why he’s actually getting to me.

What the hell, Nova?

Nicholas takes a slow sip of his coffee, eyes thoughtful as he looks over the park and then back at me. “Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know? My deepest traumas or my favorite color? You gotta be more specific.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I want to know everything, eventually.” He says it so genuinely that my heart skips a beat. “For now, let’s start with this. Would you rather start life as someone else or start your life over again?”

Easiest question ever.

“Start my life all over again,” I reply without hesitation.

If I could erase that one mistake, rewind the clock, they could still be here.

“What about you?” I ask, planting myself back in the present, curious about what someone like Nicholas Harrington would say.

He doesn’t even blink. “Start as someone else.”

“Who would that be?”

His gaze drops, and he smiles to himself, almost as if he’s admitting a secret. “Someone nobody knows. With a little flower shop. Just me, some scissors, rows of lilies and roses… a place to make something real.”

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