Page 22 of Cream & Sugar
“Pfft,” Freddie scoffs. “No problem. Let’s get steamy.”
I’m quickly learning Freddie is just like this. Flirty, that is. Or maybe this isn’t flirting? Perhaps this is just how young people talk these days. Even thinking that makes me feel ancient, but anyone under thirty seems young when you’re on the wrong side of it. The point is, there’s a more than decent chance I’m misinterpreting his vibe. I don’t even know for sure he’s into guys! It’s so hard to tell these days. Some of the things I witnessed in the rugby locker room back in the day were bordering on pornographic, and those guys all had girlfriends. Although, I guess, who’s to say they were all straight?
Not that it matters, because I’m definitely not interested.
As I teach Freddie how to make his first mocha, my stomach twists. It’s a feeling I’m used to—the seeds of overwhelm taking root deep inside me and spreading. Normally it feels bad, like every organ in my body has its own panicked heartbeat, but there’s something different this time. It’s more like the fluttering of a thousand butterflies trapped in my belly.
“So, Shaun,” Freddie clunks the portafilter into the coffee machine and pushes the button for a double shot, “are you new in town?”
The machine whirrs and golden espresso begins to trickle into the mug.
“I grew up here,” I explain while Freddie pours a jug of fresh milk. “But I moved to Glasgow for uni and ended up staying. I only came back to set up this place.”
“All by yourself?” Freddie asks casually as he spoons hot chocolate powder into the coffee. “No… partner?”
My toes curl in my shoes.
“Just me,” I say, trying not to sound like the saddest man in West Marbank. “And my cat,” I add for effect.
“You have a cat!” Freddie exclaims as he steams the milk to within an inch of its life. “Awesome. What’s it called?”
“Jester,” I say, wincing as the milk wand starts to scream. Thankfully, Freddie removes it and, ignoring the slow pour method I showed him, proceeds to dollop the frothy milk on top of the espresso like an upturned cement mixer.
“So no partner, eh? That’s a surprise.”
“How come?” I ask.
Freddie shoots me a coy glance. “I mean, have youseenyou? You’re a total hunk.”
I’m blindsided by the compliment. I try to swallow, but my mouth has gone dry. Freddie plonks his attempt at a mocha in front of me.
“Ta-daa!”
It’s not terrible, but I can tell just by looking that the milk is burnt. As I take the mug, our hands brush and I gasp. Freddie’s touch sends a bolt of heat ricocheting through my veins. It’s so intense I almost drop the mug. His fingers linger on mine for a split-second and we lock eyes. For a moment, I’m hypnotised by those beautiful blues. Why isn’t he taking his hand away? More to the point, why aren’t I?
To my alarm, I feel a stirring in my crotch and I leap back from him, almost spilling the mocha.
“Ahem, sorry,” I stammer, not sure what I’m apologising for. “Let’s give this a try.”
As I bring it to my lips, Freddie leans against the counter, crossing one leg over the other, the tight black denim showing off thelithe curve of his thighs. The collar of his shirt flutters loosely, exposing a curved, graceful collarbone and the smooth skin of his chest. Up close, I see his tattoo is a delicate string of musical notes. His long neck is speckled with blonde stubble that grows denser around his jawline, accentuating the diamond-cut shape of it. A strand of blonde hair tickles his nose, and he brushes it behind his ear where it floats around an assortment of silver piercings.
He grins, nibbling on his lower lip. He’s looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to try his mocha.
I take a sip.
“What do you think?” Freddie asks.
“Yum,” I reply, though the taste has barely registered. “Room for improvement, but a good first attempt.”
Freddie flashes me that dazzling smile.
“I aim to please.”
He winks at me and my heart skips a beat. So much for ignoring whatever this is. It’s like trying to ignore a fire alarm.
As the café gets busy again, all I can think of is Freddie’s compliment.Have youseenyou? You’re a total hunk!I didn’t imagine that, did I? Freddie, the Adonis that he is, thinks I’m a hunk? Me? Gosh… I haven’t been called anything like that in a long time. I just assumed my glory days were behind me, hence why Lara was quick to move on to someone better. Though I’m ashamed to admit it, and those kinds of comments definitely aren’t apt for the workplace, it felt good. Really good.
The butterflies in my stomach multiply.
