Page 24 of Love Me Like It's Real
“Huh?”
“Because you’re acting like a stupid teen so I presume you went back in time and your teenage self is possessing your body right now because only a spotty adolescent would saydeez nutslike it’s the best damn joke ever,” I say and he all but snarls at me.
“Woah there bud. Someone needs a chill pill,” Wells says.
“No. I need coffee.Especiallyif I’m going to have to deal with all of this.”
“Oh baby you need a whole lot more than coffee to deal with all of this.”
I snort again.
Gosh, I missed him. Because of our jobs I don’t get to see him very often. I’m always travelling around offering people my services and he’s always knee-deep in hops. Or people. The time he’s not spending developing and brewing new craft beers, he spends in bars around town (and who are we kidding? Around Vermont too) pushing his product and his dick.
Jason calls him the sexier, worse version of me, a title I unequivocally reject, but he’s not wrong.
I used to get a lot more ass back in the day. I thought my job would offer me a steady stream of men to sleep around with—for jealousy purposes of course—but, I don’t know. These days I’m not as keen to dip my pen in the company ink, if you may. Something about lying, cheating bastards not doing it for me, I suppose.
“Fine. Coffee sounds good.”
I make a beeline for Sparky’s as usual when we pass by Special Blend, Old Mac’s place. It looks different than it used to. A lot more alive. The coffee bar looks vibrant and full of sweet treats. The back bar now displays a spanking new and shiny espresso machine and the tables and chairs look like they were built this century rather than the last.
It looks, for all intents and purposes, cozy. If not for one thing.
The spattering of hearts on every surface, the red roses on every table, and the twinkling red lights on every wall.
Okay those were several things. All as vomit-inducing as a warm beer and soggy chips.
“Uhm…” Wells says.
“I know.”
“Sparky’s sounds good.”
But as I’m about to agree and turn, I catch sight of pink curls swallowed by coats and bags and I stop in my tracks.
I haven’t seen him since that day at the gym when he turned down my offer to shake those maracas together. It had been a punch in the gut, but only for a millisecond before I composed myself and went on with my day, determinedly taking him out of my mind.
I’ve been very successful so far. Heck, I’ve even forgotten what he looks like. And yet when I see those signature curls it’s as if…as if…as if I’ve been fooling myself, because his image comes back to me full force as if he were standing right in front of me. His smile, his grin, his eyeroll. His butt. The way he bounces on my cock.
Oh wait. That last one was a fantasy.
And still, it feels just as real as anything.
“Come on. This is closer and everyone is raving about it. Even Mom.”
Wells raises an eyebrow and studies me for a moment.
“Mrs. H drinks here? Wow. That’s as high a compliment as anything. But I’ll still pass. I might throw up if I have to sit at a rose table.”
I chuckle.
“I know, dude. But…it’s the first of February now. Wherever we go will be the same. So we might as well try the new Old Mac’s place.”
I don’t know why I’m so dead set on defending my choice. If anything, going to Sparky’s is the better choice. Better the enemy you know. But I can’t help it. It’s as if my body is taking me into Special Blend without my consent.
Oh, who am I kidding. It’s got my full, unequivocal consent. I want to see him again. As long as I don’t say it out loud it doesn’t hurt anybody.
Wells sighs but follows me inside but softens when his gaze lands on the barista, Caspian. He leans over the bar and places our order in the most sensual way possible. Not that the other guy seems moved by my relentless friend.
