I elbow him, my jaw dropping in shock. “I can’t believe you said that!”
Nate can’t contain his laughter, one hand steering the car while the other hides his smile. It’s adorable. I only wish he’d move it so I can see his dimples.
“You aren’t wrong,” I admit reluctantly, with a playful roll of my eyes.
“I know, I’m not wrong.” He glances away from the road and back to me, dimples on full display. “But you’re changing.”
“Good or bad?” I ask.
“Good,” he confirms.
And this time, when I look into his eyes, it feels like time stops. The noise, the commotion—they all fade intonothingness until there’s justhim. Deep like a forest. Luminous like algae drifting beneath the water. Mossy.Alive. I feel the most alive when I’m with Nate Archer.
I once told him I didn’t have a favorite color, but I’m starting to think otherwise. Green—like the color of his eyes.
I shift my gaze to the side, coughing away the thoughts that overtook my mind. The water bottle sitting in the cup holder calls my name, and I chug the contents faster than I thought was possible.
Is it only me, or is it suddenly hot in here?
“Can I turn the AC on?” I ask, crushing the plastic flat before dropping it into my lap.
Nate looks over at me in concern. “It’s the end of October.”
“Is that supposed to mean something?” The question slips out, threaded with confusion.
“The heat is on.”
“Oh…”
“Yeah…” His concern lingers. “But we can stop at the nearest gas station if you’d like. Get some fresh air. Go to the washroom or something. You drank a lot of water, and we’ve got a long way to go.”
“Sure,” I rush to say.
He takes the next exit off the highway, and in no time, we’ve made it.
The smell of coffee lingers in the convenience store, but as always, it can never compare to the aromas at Brews&Bookmarks. Not to mention, it smells stale—just a little too old, and mixed with the pungent smell of gasoline. Either way, I grab two cups—one with milk and sugar, and the other black.
It isn’t hard to guess which one belongs to whom.
“Here you go.” I hand Nate his cup when he stops right in front of me. He presses his lips to the spout, quickly coughing following his first sip. “Too hot? I ask.
“No, it’s just so damn awful.” He winces as he pulls back, opening the lid to see the light brown liquid.
I take a sip of mine and have a similar reaction.
“Super stale,” I conclude, and way too bitter for my liking. I leave out that part. We may have made up since that day, but I refuse to succumb to the supposedly witty comment he made.
“It’s not even about that. It’s too sweet and diluted with cream.”
I tilt my head to the side in genuine confusion. “What do you mean? There’s only one cream and one sugar in that.”
I take another sip from my cup, wanting to confirm it’s not the awfulness of gas station coffee when he says, “I take my coffee black.”
The liquid flies out of my mouth in shock. “What?”
Nate’s eyes dart from side to side. “What?”
“I thought you drank your coffee with milk and sugar!”
