Page 89 of We Met Like This
“Beautiful,” I said.
He reracked his dumbbells and turned to face me. “I’m pretty picky about my coffee.”
“Based on the one time I saw you drink it, I think I know your order. But in case I’m wrong, I have a backup option in the car.”
“You can tell someone’s order just by looking at it.”
“It’s one of my superpowers.”
He narrowed his eyes and reached for the iced coffee I held. He took a sip.
“Am I right?”
His eyebrows popped up in surprise. “Yes.”
“Really?”
“No.”
I laughed. “I have one more chance. When you’re done here, though. Keep working out.” I sat on the nearest bench as if I was ready for the show.
“I can be done.”
“No, no, finish. I really didn’t mean to make you stop. I was just too excited.”
“To bring me coffee?”
“No, I got my first query today.” I assumed he remembered what the wordquerymeant from helping me with the website.
“Someone wants you to be their agent?”
I nodded, feeling a little choked up all of a sudden.
He took two big steps forward and used his hand that wasn’t holding the coffee he didn’t want to pull me up off the bench and into a tight one-armed hug. “Congratulations,” he said against my temple.
He was slightly sweaty and warm, which sent a shot of energy straight through me, leaving me buzzing. “It probably won’t result in anything,” I said, clinging to his shoulders. How could I miss someone so much that I’d only seen in person a handful of times? “It takes a hundred queries to get a few promising ones.”
“It’s a step worth celebrating.”
I nodded. That’s why I was here. He was the first person I wanted to tell. “I was so scared nobody was going to email me.”
“I had no doubts,” he said. Someone dropping a weight bar behind him rang out.
My cheeks felt warm and my heart fluttery. “I got a query, Oliver.”
“You did.”
I used his shoulders to push away from him, look him in the eyes, and yell, “I got a query!”
He smiled big. “You did,” he responded in an inside voice.
“I’m going to get you your real coffee from my car.” I took the one from his hand and dropped it in a trash can to our right. “Prepare to be impressed.”
“I would’ve drank that,” he said.
“The designer of my perfect website deserves his real coffee order.”
I headed for the exit. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him pick up a duffel bag and towel near the weight rack and jog after me.
