So far, he was considering a focus on different coffee-brewing methods. He was an aficionado himself, but most cafes only had basic options like espresso-based drinks (such as lattes or cappuccinos) or regularly brewed black coffee. The Baby Dragon was the same, but they had a wide drinks menu with a variety of drinks from chai to matcha to tea to refreshers. So a coffee focus in the bookshop would not infringe on the cafe’s business.
He stole a glance toward Emmeline, who had beenworking in diligent silence. Her hair was twisted and held in place with a massive clip, her bangs falling in front of her face. She had been quiet all week, and it was not at all what he had expected when he’d proposed they should only come to the bookshop at the same time.
He had thought being together would create more opportunities, like the situation last week, when she’d ended up in his lap. Was he to blame? The memory was one that had tortured him, but he couldn’t stop revisiting it, just like all his other memories of her. He was becoming a real masochist.
But she kept to herself, and he found he didn’t mind that too much, either. He liked being in her presence, watching her.
There were so many new details to catalogue: her hair had always been long, but it was longer now, cut in a way that somehow always gave a sense of movement; where she used to keep her nails painted the same blood-red as her lipstick, now they were bare; she always had at least two drinks nearby; and a hundred other tiny details.
“What?” Emmeline asked, voice sharp as a razor as she glanced over at him. They were both sharing the desk, sitting on the opposite end from the computer in chairs.
He blinked. “What?”
“Don’t act dumb,” she said, sitting back in her chair. “You keep looking over at me. I’ve been noticing all week.”
“And you thinkIhave an inflated ego?” he snorted, trying to act cool even though she was absolutely right; he had been watching her all week.
She released a short breath from her nostrils. “I can’tbelieve you’re here at all,” she muttered, returning her attention to her laptop.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, intrigued.
“Your business.” The words were clipped. “I can’t believe you copied my idea.”
Shock poured through him, and he froze. Did she really not remember?
“You’re kidding,” he said, dumbfounded.
“No, I’m not,” she replied. “You should have come up with your own idea instead of taking mine.”
His disbelief was promptly replaced with anger. It wasn’t the accusation that upset him, but the fact that she genuinely didn’t remember how they had come up with the animal-roasted coffee idea at the same time.
It was the morning after they’d slept together.
She never thought about that time together, did she? Clearly not. She didn’t remember it at all, when he had memorized every moment, replayed it again and again like a broken record.
That night, the way it had felt to be around her all evening was unlike anything he’d experienced in his life. Kissing her for the first time had been like unlocking a new language that had always existed deep inside of him but he’d never understood before.
They continued to get up to no good until the bookshop slowly emptied out and Minh told them it was time for closing. Luke had been disappointed at the thought of the night being over. As they headed out into the cold, he had planned to ask her out for dinner the next day, when she’d surprised him by asking if he wanted to come back to her place, her family home, though no one was in.
Of course he’d said yes. They went back to hers, and he had been jittery like he was a teenager on a first date. She was acting so confident, but he could tell she was nervous, too. He caught the way her hands slightly trembled, just the slightest chink in her armor, and he’d held her hand.
The night they slept together was probably the best night of his life.
The next morning, he’d roused early to find the sun slanting into her room through the blinds, which hadn’t been fully closed. He glanced over at Emmeline and saw that her brows were scrunched. Sunlight was shining across her eyes.
Luke lifted a hand, shielding her face from the light, and her expression relaxed. After a few minutes, his arm got sore, but she was sleeping so peacefully, he couldn’t bear to let his hand drop. He finally shifted until he was on his side, his shoulders blocking the sun, and he’d watched her until he’d fallen asleep again.
In the morning, he woke up to her alarm going off. She released a growl, slapping the alarm off aggressively.
He looked over as she groaned, clearly unhappy to be risen. Her expression was like that of an angry kitten. She rubbed her eyes, smudging her makeup further.
Then, she seemed to remember he was there, and she turned her face to his. Her dark eyes widened.
She looked like she wanted to say something but was nervous. Before she could, he asked, “Coffee?”
Surprise lit her face, and she said, “Yes.”
Luke sat up, then realized he didn’t know where the kitchen was. She’d smiled, gaze dropping to his bare chest.
