1
Olivia
FIFTEEN YEARS AGO
The barista calls out, “I have a medium vanilla, caramel, no foam, extra whip latte for”—I reach for the drink—“Isaac.” I pull my hand back, deflating faster than a stabbed mylar birthday balloon.
It’s the first day of the semester, and if my drink isn’t ready in the next few minutes, I risk missing out on my favorite seat in the front of the class. You’d think years after assigned seating in elementary, middle, and high school, people wouldn’t be so protective over where they sit in class. Trying to claim it the second day will start a semester-long war with someone—a stress I have no desire to deal with. Confrontation isn’t exactly my strong suit.
In hindsight, I shouldn’t have stopped for coffee in the first place, but I’ve been looking forward to my weekly treat since I popped in last Tuesday. I just hope mine is done soon, or I may have to bail without it.
A man with dark-rimmed glasses and floppy black hair approaches the counter to retrieve his caramel goodness. My breath catches as I take him in. With his flannel and neatlygroomed beard, he’s giving strong nineties grunge vibes—absolutely my type. Something about him is familiar. I shrug it off as seeing him around campus or here in the coffee shop while studying. We may have even had a class or two together, but since I always sit in the front to avoid any and all distractions, I’d never be able to narrow it down.
“Sorry,” I wince, praying to any deity who will listen that I don’t have actual drool slipping down my chin from ogling him. “Same order.”
“That’s all right.” His warm smile meets his eyes, making my belly flip. “I’m sure yours will be finished soon.” He pauses for a second, then slides it along the faux-granite counter toward me. “If you’re in a hurry, you can have mine.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly?—”
“I insist.”
“Are you sure?”
His smile widens. “Absolutely.”
“Thank you so much. I’m actually late for class; I really appreciate it.” It’s only a half-lie. While I’m not technically late, I’m grateful that I’ll be one of the first people to class. There’s nothing worse than being behind someone during a lecture who’s on their phone the whole time.Front row, here we come!“Truly, thank you! My drink is under ‘Olivia’ when they hand it out.”
“Well, Olivia, hope you make it to class on time.” A little dimple pops on his right cheek, and I can’t help mirroring his smile.
I can’t remember the last time a man gave me butterflies like this. A blush creeps up my neck as I lift my cup in a cheers.“You’re my knight in shining armor.” I rush out of the cafe, glancing over my shoulder once at the handsome stranger. His dark blue eyes are still on me, and as I quickly face forward, I smack right into the glass door.
As if today couldn’t get any worse, my selfless coffee twin rushes over. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, thanks.” I rub my nose. “I was a little distracted, I guess. Definitely in need of coffee. Thank you again for letting me steal yours.”
Never more embarrassed in my entire life, this time when I scurry off, I control my hormones and don’t do another double-take. It’s for the best. With my shitty luck, he’ll probably have a girlfriend—or boyfriend. Guys who look like him don’t go out with girls like me. At least that’s been my experience using dating apps. With my schedule this term, it isn’t as if I have time for beautiful distractions like Isaac.
I make my way to Terrance Hall and scan the door numbers until I find 115. I’m the third one here and grab my favorite spot in the front, breathing a sigh of relief as I drop my bag to my left. While I sip my coffee I commandeered from a stranger, I startle as someone asks, “Is this seat taken?”
I glance up, and my eyes blow wide; of course it’s the hot guy from the coffee shop. “Oh, no. I’m available—I mean,it’savailable.”
Isaac removes his crossbody bag and sits to my right. “I thought you said you were going to be late,” he muses, adjusting his glasses. “Class doesn’t start for another ten minutes.”
I wince, then rush out, “Oh, you know the saying: if you’re early, you’re on time, and if you’re on time, you’re late. I just like to stake my claim on the first day.”
“Same. I’m Isaac, by the way.”
“I would hope so.” I tap my cup where his name is scribbled in black marker. “Or is this someone else's?"
“It’s yours now.”
I quickly direct my attention to the front of the class. “Thanks again for letting me steal your drink.”
“Well, maybe you’ll let me buy you your own some day, so you don’t have to steal mine,” he teases, and the damn butterflies are back.
My eyes snap to his, which is a glorious mistake. Why the hell does he have to be so attractive? And, damn those glasses are hot. Is he going to sit next to me the entire semester? I hope not. How the hell am I supposed to focus when he’s less than a few feet from me? I need a buffer. Right fucking now.
“I, uh… you don’t need to do that.”
