Lennox rings him up, her eyes darting between us like she's watching a tennis match. Sebastian pays, probably leaves a ridiculous tip knowing him and steps aside to wait.
I make his coffee first. Plain black, no sugar. Simple. Controlled. Probably how he takes everything in life.
Then I start on my latte. The espresso machine chooses this moment to malfunction, sputtering and hissing. Of course.
"Problem?" Sebastian asks.
"It's temperamental. Give me a second."
I fiddle with the pressure valve. The machine makes a sound like a dying whale, then cooperates. I pull the shot, steam the milk, pour.
When I hand him his coffee, our fingers brush. That same electric feeling from yesterday.
I pull back quickly.
"Thanks," he says.
"You're welcome. Enjoy your overpriced coffee."
"I will. See you tomorrow?"
Tomorrow. Right. The cooking class.
"Two o'clock. Don't be late."
"I wouldn't dream of it." He takes his coffee and heads for the door, then pauses. Turns back. "And Isla? You might want to change your shirt. The coffee stain looks like?—"
"I know what it looks like. Thank you for that observation."
He almost smiles. Actually, I almost smile. Then he's gone, leaving me standing behind the counter with a latte I don't have time to drink and Lennox staring at me with way too much interest.
"That," she says slowly, "was interesting."
"That was nothing."
"He came here specifically to see you."
"He came here for coffee."
"There are three coffee places on this campus, and this is the only one where you work. He knows your schedule now, by the way. Six to ten every morning."
Shit. She's right. Why did I tell him that?
"It doesn't matter."
"Isla." Lennox leans across the counter. "I'm not trying to be annoying. But I saw how he looked at you and how you looked at him. And I just…I want you to be careful."
"Everyone keeps saying that."
"Because everyone can see what you're trying not to see," She tells me.
"Which is?"
"That maybe this isn't as fake as you're pretending it is." She says and before I can respond, another customer arrives, and we're pulled back into the rush. But Lennox's words stick with me through the rest of my shift.
Maybe this isn't as fake as you're pretending it is.
No. It is fake. It has to be fake. Because the alternative, that something real might be developing between me and Sebastian Thornhill is impossible.
