Page 2 of Shy Girl
Serafina:That’s better. You’ll drool over him less. He’s suuuuuper hawt in the uniform.
In that, she certainly wasn’t wrong, but it was time to change the subject. Watching Jayson on a date with another woman was hard enough. Analyzing only led to the same question we had every time: why not me?
Dagny:Are you still madly in love with Benjamin?
Serafina:SO madly.
Dagny:Your life is a fairytale.
Serafina:So is yours. You’re just still in the scrubbing floors phase of your Cinderella story. Will you send me a pic of Hernandez and this girl? I need to size her up.
Dagny:That is SO creepy. No.
Serafina:Fiiiiiine. Next Friday, I’ll just drop in and we can text each other the way she rates. You know, like he always rates his food? It will be hysterical.
Dagny:Done!
Serafina:How is school going?
Dagny:Almost done with this semester. On track to graduate in December. It's so—
“Hot boyfriend?”
The unexpected voice startled me out of a reply and I fumbled to avoid dropping my phone. With my luck, the whole screen would shatter. Thankfully, I caught it a second before disaster struck in a not-so-graceful fumble that sent a lock of hair into my eyes. Because, of course.
Why not make it impossible for him to see me as anything but an awkward barista? Like I was still fifteen years old, gawping at him from where I hid in the library.
I looked up into a familiar pair of dark eyes. Jayson Hernandez stood there in a button up white shirt with the front untucked, a pair of jeans that fit him a little too perfectly, and the same work boots I saw most weeks. Such a casual outfit belied his natural intensity. When his angular face wasn't caught in a thoughtful expression, it looked like he half-smiled most of the day. Plus, his shorter hair was slightly curled at the ends, and I wanted to run my fingers through the adorable locks.
He blinked, which brought me back to reality.
I’d die of mortification if he saw an entire text message thread about him on my phone, so I clicked my phone off and shoved it in my back pocket.
“N-no.” I forced a smile. “N-n-not exactly.”
He grinned and set an empty coffee mug on the counter between us. Of the hundreds of mugs on the wall that customers could choose from to drink their coffee in, he’d chosen the one with the Mexican flag. His date had chosen a water bottle, and she tucked it into her purse before surreptitiously fixing her hair in the window reflection.
So what did they talk about over water and coffee? They’d been here almost an hour. No signs of awkwardness between them. Not even indifference or attraction. Just . . . a friendly, neutral air.
Curiouser.
“Thanks again, Dagny.” He held up a thumb. “Five stars. Perfect coffee, as always.”
I nodded instead of speaking, less out of shock at his proximity—which sometimes happened when I could smell him—and more out of a trained habit not to speak unless I absolutely had to.
He turned to leave with another quick wave and the girl followed.
Once they faded into the darkening parking lot, I let out a gut-deep breath, bent in half, and pressed my forehead to the cool metal of the counter. The chilly feeling against my skin had an oddly grounding response, like a ripple through my body.
Nowas the only reply I could come up with?
C’mon, Dagny,I silently chided.You can do better.
Actually, I probably couldn’t. Squeaking any sound out was a win most days. A thousand other words ran through my mind now that he wasn’t melting me with his eyes, but I dismissed them.Nowas innocuous, acknowledging, and friendly. He’d clearly asked the girl here on a date. The last thing I needed to do was step in and try to flirt. That alwaysled to a disaster.
How did people flirt anyway?
Besides, my crush on Hernandez had lasted long enough. Years, in fact. It began in high school, when I existed in the shadows and he lived in the limelight. Hernandez had been a senior my freshman year of high school. He lettered in baseball, had a reputation as a kind but disinterested jock, and held a place high on the Honor roll.
