Page 10 of Tides of Discovery
I snorted. “I wasn’t that bad.”
“Cooper.” Jack fixed me with a look. “You once went three days without leaving the coffee shop except to go to class. You were practically becoming one with the espresso machine.”
“I was saving for my tuition,” I protested. “And someone had to cover all those shifts when everyone was out with the flu.”
“And now you own The Coffee Cove.” Jack’s voice held genuine pride. “Seriously, Coop. What you’ve done with the place…it’s impressive as hell.”
Warmth spread through my chest at his words, smooth and rich like a perfect pour-over. “Thanks. Some days, I still can’t believe it’s mine.”
“Well, believe it.” Jack raised his beer in a toast. “To the best damn coffee shop in California.”
I clinked my bottle against his. “And to having at least one good thing from college stick around.”
Jack’s crooked grin faltered slightly, so quickly I might have imagined it. But then it was back, as bright as ever, warming me from within. “Damn right.”
I reached for another slice of pizza. “Remember when we tried to do this long-distance? That first online gaming session where you spent twenty minutes just trying to explain how to equip a warlock?”
Jack chuckled, but there was a softness in his expression. “You kept trying to click and drag it like it was a PowerPoint presentation.”
“Technology has never been my strong suit. I’m just glad we found a way to make it work.” I took a sip of my beer. “Thosesessions were sometimes the only thing getting me through the week.”
“Me, too,” Jack said quietly as he studied the controller in his hands. “More than you probably realize.”
The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard, but before I could respond, he launched into a story about one of his contractors that had me laughing so hard my sides hurt. And just like that, the moment passed.
We played for another hour, demolished the pizza, and made our way through the beers. By the time we called it a night, a pleasant buzz had settled over me, dulling the anxiety about the upcoming dinner to a manageable hum.
“Thanks for this.” I stood to leave and gestured vaguely at the room. “I needed it.”
Jack walked me to the door. “Anytime. Seriously, Coop. Anytime you need to escape your head for a while, I’m here.”
I nodded, suddenly aware of how close we were standing in the small entryway. Jack’s apartment was warm, and a hint of his body wash—something spicy—mingled with the scents of pizza and beer. For a heartbeat, something shifted in the air between us, and confusion knit my brow.
Jack’s eyes dropped briefly to my mouth before they snapped back up to meet my gaze. An unreadable emotion crossed his face. Had I not known better, I might have thought…but no. That was ridiculous. If Jack had harbored any attraction toward me, surely he would have made a move long ago—our shared history was littered with opportunities that could have easily slipped into something more, yet remained in the safety of friendship.
The spell broke. I stepped back and cleared my throat. “Same time next week?”
“You bet.” Jack leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “Bring your A-game. I’m not going easy on you next time.”
I laughed. “You say that every week.”
“And every week, I take pity on you.” His grin was teasing, but there was something soft around his eyes. “Goodnight, Cooper.”
“Night, Jack.”
As I walked back to my apartment, the cold night air cleared my head. Jack’s friendship was one of the constants in my life—reliable as my morning alarm, comforting as the first sip of coffee on a cold day. Having him back in my life had made Seacliff Cove feel more like home than it had in all the years since I’d returned here after college.
Our connection had withstood the test of both time and distance—through career changes, relationships that came and went, and the slow process of building our separate lives. In a world where everything seemed to change with merciless speed, Jack remained my one unwavering constant.
Some friendships were like specialized coffee beans: rare, valuable, and worth savoring. What Jack and I had was exactly that. And as I unlocked my apartment door, I felt a surge of gratitude that of all the places in the world he could have chosen to move, he’d picked the small coastal town where I lived.
The thoughts of the hacker and facing my parents next week still churned in my stomach, but knowing Jack was just around the corner somehow made them seem more manageable.
I got ready for bed and set my alarm for four in the morning. The coffee shop wouldn’t open itself, and the delivery from the bakery would arrive early. As I drifted toward sleep, my mind replayed moments from the evening: Jack’s laughter, the easy back-and-forth of our conversation, the brief strange moment at his door.
That look in his eyes when I’d mentioned our online gaming sessions—like he was holding something back. It reminded me of the way he’d sometimes go quiet during our calls over theyears, a softness in his voice that I could never quite decipher. But those instants always passed so quickly, I’d never thought much of them. Was I misinterpreting Jack’s feelings?
No, they were the responses of a best friend.
