She did, and when she stepped aside to let me into the café, I came to a realization. Sometimes we build things up in our mind, and when we see them for ourselves, it’s a letdown.
“How does this place even stay open?” I asked, turning my nose up slightly at the cracked vinyl seats, with not one paying customer in sight. The cook was tossing pizza dough like they do in the videos, nearly touching the ceiling.
The lady sniffed, annoyed. “Why does it matter to you?”
“Because I’m curious.” And curious I was, because I lacked the understanding for why they wouldn’t let me in for months, when there was no one else in here. Isn’t some business better than none?
I learned along the way that Angie and her son didn’t care if they ever got customers. They did it to keep the memory of her husband and his father alive. A former professor at the university who tragically passed away.
He loved riddles, and every morning he left them on the refrigerator for his wife and son to figure out. They bought thesmall café, remodeled it, and are making payments on it every month with his life insurance money.
I’ve wanted time and time again to convince Angie to let me pay it off for her, I wouldn’t bat an eye at the missing amount. But she refuses. So instead, I come in here and spend hours working on riddles and showing her my latest projects over fresh food. And when I leave, I slide enough money in the drop box to pay for their rent. It’s not as much as I want to do, but she lets me get away with it.
But now I have a dilemma, because he’s here. He’s found my secret spot and even cracked the riddle to be let in. I glance at Angie, and she’s smiling as she walks toward the booth that Hunter is occupying. The booth I’ve been sitting in and have claimed as my own.
“Move over, Collins,” I say, coming to a stop at the edge of the table. Brown eyes lift to meet mine, and my world shifts on its axis.
“I’m sorry?” he says, tilting his head slightly to the side with a confused look on his face. That should not be as attractive as it is. I will not be thinking of the cute head tilt. I will not.
“Either scoot over or sit beside Angie. That’s my seat.” Angie swats me on the upper arm with the back of her hand.
“Adam! Be nice, or I’ll make the next riddle so hard you won’t come back for a month,” she hisses, and I turn to stare at her in shock. She wouldn’t, but the gleam in her eyes tells me that yes, she absolutely would.
“Fine,” I mumble. I go to sit beside her, but Hunter quickly shifts.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize this was your spot. I need to head back to my dorm anyway.” He goes to stand up, and I panic. I can’t let him go, not now. Probably not ever with the way I feel possessive over him. It’s not normal, but damned if I can stop it.
I sit down beside him, almost on his lap, and he moves out of my way and farther back into the booth.
“I’m just giving you a hard time, Collins, lighten up.” Collins, I can call him Collins, and that’s not weird, right? I know it’s typically a jock thing, but I need to keep a degree of separation between us because at the rate I’m going, I’m on a downhill spiral to disaster.
“Oh, okay.” He awkwardly chuckles but smiles at me anyway, the pink in his cheeks dull in the dim lighting. I need to sweet-talk Angie into investing in better lighting in here.
“What were you two talking about?” I ask, propping my elbows on the table and resting my head in my hands.
“None of your business,” Angie says, at the same time Hunter says, “Just school stuff.”
“Oh, problems with your first week?” My interest is piqued because from the sounds last night, he isn’t having any problems in the bedroom. A jealous feeling bubbles up inside me, and I have to push it down. He’s not mine. He can’t ever be mine. I don’t want him to be mine.
I’mstraight.Just… intrigued by him.
“No, nothing too bad. Adjusting has been a challenge, but it’ll be fine in no time.”
“What classes are you taking?” I turn my head to look at him and see his eyes narrow in concentration. A slight dimple forms in his cheek when he bites his lip, and I have to hold back a groan because what the fuck is that?
“English, Calc One, Physical Science, American History, and Intro to Drawing.”
“Why are you in Calc One?” I ask in shock. That’s a class I have to take next semester because I put it off this semester. It sounded absolutely awful.
Hunter shrugs. “Math isn’t bad, numbers always stay the same.” That’s true, but then they start throwing random numbers and symbols into it and it turns into a clusterfuck.
“Well, when I take it next semester, I’m going to borrow your notes.” Why? Why?Whydid I say that? I wish I could go back in time and snatch those words right out of the air and put them back into my mouth.
“Oh, I can do that! I’m in Richards’ class, and he’s supposed to be the best.” He is supposed to be the best, and I’m impressed by Hunter taking college seriously enough to want to be with the best professors, even when they aren’t the easiest.
“And if you need help with English, I had Whittacker, but I think all the curriculum is the same.”
“I would like that, thanks.” His pink cheeks are my focus, and I want to cover them, not sharing the pretty pink color with anyone else. Not even Angie.
