Page 21 of Bookish Boys Don't Date Social Girls
“Have you read it yet?” I point to the magazine when he glances my way.
“Some. There’s a great story in there about an orphan that I really enjoyed. Gave me a new perspective on the things they face when they switch foster homes.”
My heart breaks a little just from his sympathetic expression. “I’ll check it out.”
I’m wracking my brain for a conversation that doesn’t involve reading when my phone dings. It’s a text from Ava.
Ava: 911! Are you around?
Me: Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?
Ava: I was lifting a bag of dog food and split my pants. [crying emoji]
Me: What can I do?
I look up at Brent. “Make that to go. Ava has a wardrobe malfunction I need to help her with.”
“Uh oh. Is she okay?”
“Yeah.”
Ava: Can you swing by my house? There are a pair of jeans on my bed that I almost wore today, but tossed aside for my favorite pair [angry face emoji]
Me: Is your house unlocked? Do I knock?
“What’s wrong?” Brent asks.
I realize the sides of my mouth are turned down dramatically. “Oh, I’m just unsure of her instructions. I’ve asked for clarification. It’s fine.” Though, by the way my heart races, maybe it isn’t. The last time I was at Ava’s house, I was, maybe, six or seven years old. I know things at her house aren’t horrible like they used to be, but I still never go there.
Ava: You can knock. Grandma should be home. Let her know I sent you. She won’t go upstairs, so you’ll have to run up there.
Me: On it.
Ava: Thank you soooooooo much![multiple heart eyes emojis]
Brent’s ringing up my magazine and coffee. The mocha is in a to-go cup on the counter in front of me, complete with latte art.
“Oh my gosh, look at you go. You made a stack of hearts for me.” I don’t tell him that I’ve always thought this particular latte art resembles a male’s anatomy. I bite my lip when I see the stack of hearts curves to make it look even more so like…well, that.
“A tulip. I’m just learning. I swear I’m not trying to send any subliminal messages. It’s a tough design to make. I should have stuck with a single heart. I’ve got that one down. To think, I was worried about what message that would send.”
I laugh, relieved to know he sees the same thing I do.
“If you weren’t in a hurry, I would never have given that toyou.”
“As much as I would love to see this each time I take a sip, maybe a lid is in order so I don’t get mocha all over Sunny.”
“A lid.” He hits his forehead. “I could have spared myself the embarrassment if only I’d thought of that first. Who’s Sunny? A new boyfriend?”
I narrow my gaze on him. He’s avoiding eye contact as he secures a lid to my cup. Is he worried I have a boyfriend? He’s impossible to read. It’s so aggravating. “Sunny is my car.”
“Oh, that makes sense. Yellow, like the sun.”
A little thrill courses through me that he knows what car I drive. I insert my credit card into the card reader and add a tip when it prompts me.
“Want a receipt?” he asks.
“No thanks.”
