Page 30 of Hooking Up
"But it's not a date?"
"Call it what you want."
The guy in front of us finishes his order. We move forward. Walker orders the fancy black iced coffee. I order the fancy sweetened one.
Mmm. Sugar and caffeine. Truly, the source of all happiness in the world. Especially when other vices are off limits.
My tongue slides over my lips. My thoughts get sharper. More focused. It's the same as it was. I know. It sounds ridiculous, but it's the same to my brain.
Mmm. Fix. Almost. Here. Need. It. Now.
My toes tap together.
My fingers tap the counter.
Now.
I. Need. It. Now.
I force my fingers to steady.
I can handle waiting for coffee.
Really.
I press my hands into my sides as we move to the pick-up counter. This is a small shop. Hardwood floors. White walls. Three shiny white tables with uncomfortable looking trendy chairs.
And coffee.
All the sweet, sweet caffeine and sugar I need.
I force myself to look at Walker. Conversation is a good distraction. And thisisa date. I need to carry my half of it. "Where are you from?"
"Beverly Hills."
I don't believe him. I stare into those eyes, trying to figure him out. He's telling the truth. I think.
"Told you."
"But you're…"
"You're stereotyping me?"
"No. Then I'd be saying you must really have issues with your parents to rebel from your life of privilege."
"Ah."
"You seriously have to stop with the ah."
"Are you going to escalate the threat to coffee on my head?"
"That's a waste of coffee."
"That gives me leeway." His eyes light up as he smiles.
It really is a nice smile.
I admit it. I stare. I stare until the barista is calling my order. Then I pounce on my sweet, sweet caffeine.
