Page 78 of You've Got a Place Here, Too
“Stalking? Says the boy who starts liking my favorite show after he sees me watching it.” I keep my tone playful and light.
“One, that’s normal friendship. Two, you’re the one who knows my work schedule to a T.” Malcolm bites his lip, holding back a chuckle.
“I do not,” I say dramatically. He works Tuesday through Thursday from three to eight, with a midday Sunday shift every other week. But of course, I learned my favorite barista’s schedule because I won’t spend my dining dollars on subpar coffee, especially when Malcolm serves his with a side of good conversation and a dash of touches.
I lean forward, lifting my eyebrows, and a smirk twitches at the corner of my mouth. “Well, make a move then.”
“Piper Wylie.” Malcolm leans forward, his lip rolling in, and our faces are within inches of each other. “Will you go on a date with me?”
I don’t hesitate to respond. “I would love to. Do you have a time and place in mind or…”
Malcolm stands up and offers his hand. “Now.”
“Now?”
“We can have a mini date right now that’ll make you forget about that bozo.”
“What bozo?” I act oblivious.
He smiles. “I’m glad my romantic charm is working already.”
“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself. You still gotta prove your dating skills.”
“Bet.” He gently pulls me to the back of the coffee bar. His fingers tap the countertop beside the register. “I have a couple of closing duties, and once I finish those, I have something to show you. So you sit here and relax.”
I climb onto the counter as he grabs his phone. He taps away at the keyboard until his phone connects to the café’s speakers.
“See You Again,” by Tyler, The Creator and Kali Uchis, consumes the space. “First my favorite show, and now my favorite song?” I ask, even though I know he learned this years ago at a party. Him remembering makes me giddy inside, and it takes everything to contain myself.
Malcolm winks, swiftly cleaning up and organizing the coffee bar while rushing in and out of the kitchen. I mumble the lyrics and rock my body to the beat.
“You know you wanna sing your heart out.” Malcolm pauses his cup stacking and peers at me, waiting. “So you might as well.”
“Please.” I laugh. “I’m just humming along.”
“So now you wanna act shy?” He nods, abandoning the cups and picking a spatula from the utensil container. The second chorus hits, and he holds the spatula to his mouth like a microphone. Lyrics pour from his lips, and he really gets into the song as if it were his own.
He pulls me to my feet, and when Kali’s part comes on, he tilts the spatula to me. I give in and sing along, nearly drowning out the actual audio.
Laughter ripples from our chests, although we’re trying to beserious and actually emulate the singers. We hit the end of the song where Tyler’s chantingokay, okay, okay,and Kali’s sayingla, la, la,and switch whose part we’re singing. With each word, the air is packed with more intoxicating energy between us.
The beat disappears into the intro of a new song. We don’t pay it any mind. Instead, our fingers tangle together, and slowly, he’s closing the space between us.
“I’m feeling bold again.” His eyes dip to my lips. “Should I act on the feeling?”
“I don’t see why not.”
The room goes still.
Malcolm tucks one of my honey-blond twists behind my ear before hooking his finger under my chin. His other hand grips my waist, his hand melting into my curves. He pulls me into him, leaving no room between our bodies. His soft lips brush against mine, teasing. I lean in, and our worlds collide like when the image of a kaleidoscope comes together, bursting with color.
He tilts my chin up, allowing him to deepen the kiss. I place my hand on his chest and quickly grab his shirt, needing something to anchor me. He doesn’t allow for a second of coming up for air, devouring me whole.
An abrupt, thundering knock on the front door interrupts us. I immediately jump back and turn around, scared that his boss is outside. Malcolm turns to see who it is, yelling, “We’re closed!”
I peek over his shoulder to see River standing outside. She holds up her phone. “I got your SOS text!”
“Too little, too late,” I shout so she can hear me. “I’m fine now.”
