“Lab had no reason to be that long,” I mutter, stretching my stiff neck.
“It was only an hour,” Jared says nonchalantly as we head out. “I need coffee.”
Minutes later, we end up at University Hall, where you’ll find all of CCU sheltering in between classes, sneaking in quick breaks, and fueling up for the day. The place buzzes with energy, the air filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of students chatting or typing away on laptops. We head for the back of the line at Study Brew, where everyone seems to flock to.
Jared scans the menu, even though I’m pretty sure he’s already decided. “What about you?” he asks, glancing my way.
“Caramel latte,” I say, keeping my answer straightforward. The line creeps forward, leaving us with more time to talk.
“Is that your go-to order?” he asks, raising an eyebrow like he’s about to analyze my drink choice. “Don’t you want to try something different?
“Not really, it’s just the only thing I really like here,” I say with a shrug as we inch closer to the cashier. “What about you?”
“Matcha latte with cold foam on top,” he replies, as if it’s the most obvious choice in the world.
“You weren’t joking earlier.”
“Is that hard to believe?” His lips twitch into a smirk, daring me to say something.
“A little,” I admit. “It’s so… earthy. I assumed you were a straight-up black coffee guy. No frills.”
He chuckles, the sound rich like the coffee he apparently doesn’t drink. “I like to keep you guessing.”
“Guessing or confused?” I quip back, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Is there a difference?” he asks, his smile widening as we step up to the counter.
I roll my eyes but can’t help the smile pulling upwards. “I suppose I should be flattered by your acquired taste in beverages.”
“Or you could just admit you’re surprised I have layers,” he shoots back, not missing a beat. “You know, like an onion.”
“Oh great, now you’re comparing yourself to a vegetable,” I tease as we place our orders.
“An onion’s a compliment, trust me. Versatile, essential, adds flavor to everything.” he looks a little too pleased with himself.
“And makes people cry,” I counter.
He laughs as we step aside to wait for our drinks. “Only if you cut too deep.”
I glance at him, curious. “So, what’s the matcha for, then? Keeping your layers in check?”
“Nah,” he leans casually against the counter. “It’s for energy. Need to keep up my stamina for all the confidence-boosting lessons I’m about to give.”
“Confidence-boosting lessons?” I repeat.
“Yeah,” he affirms, turning serious for a moment. “You’re going to be unstoppable by the time I’m done with you.”
We pick up our drinks and head to a secluded table near the back. The café is busy, but this corner feels a little more private, tucked away from the noise.
“Do we have to start those lessons today?” I probe, taking a sip of my caramel latte.
He leans back in his chair, his blue eyes on me. “We have to start someday, and that day”—he knocks on the table—“is today.”
I gape at him, blinking in disbelief, waiting for him to saysike,but he doesn’t. I raise an eyebrow. “Jared,” I complain, my tone sharp with warning.
“I’m serious,” he says with a smile, then his expression loses some of its edge. “I can tell you’re too hard on yourself.”
I take a beat, thinking it over. “Okay, where do we start?”
