The first time is always weird. It’s loaded with so much curiosity and buildup that it makes everything feel bigger than it is. But if we keep hooking up, that’ll take the novelty out of this. It’ll prove that this thing between us is just chemistry and terrible judgment and a mutual inabilityto keep our hands off each other. It’ll take the pressure off, so we can finally think clearly and see that this is nothing more than a friends with benefits situation.
I exhale slowly, feeling some of the knots in my stomach loosen.
Yeah.That’s what we’ll do. Next time, there will be no prolonged eye contact. No letting the moment linger so long that it grows feelings where there shouldn’t be any. We’ll have sex and act like normal adults about it.
I can control this. IknowI can. I just need to treat it for what it is instead of letting my imagination run wild and turn a little post-sex intensity into something it’s not.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand and open my text thread with Echo.
My thumb hovers over the keyboard as guilt gnaws at me. I should probably apologize for what happened. Or at the very least, acknowledge it. But the second I think about sending anything remotely sincere, my entire body recoils.
No,that would feed into the exact problem I’m trying to avoid.
I send him a different message. One that should make this feel simple again.
See you tomorrow?
His reply comes through immediately.
Of course
I set my phone back on the nightstand and pull the sheet up higher, ignoring the fact that my bed feels a little too empty without him in it.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Echo
Brianthe barista is flirting again.
I watch him from across the coffee shop, leaning over the counter with that goofy smile he probably thinks is charming. The woman he’s currently hassling isn’t Dahlia, but with the way he’s trying to sweet-talk her, it might as well be. I’ve read enough of her texts with Fallon to know that this type of behavior is normal for him.
He’s done it to both of them on more than a few occasions, and every time it’s the same. Flirt with them aggressively at the register, then once their drinks are done, he holds them for ransom while he pesters them for their contact info. The girls never gave in to him, but the fact that he did it to them at all grates on my nerves. His job is to make them their fucking drinks, not to make them uncomfortable.
I step up to the counter and when Brian the barista sees me, his smile doesn’t drop exactly, but it does recalibrate.
“Good morning, sir. What can I get you?”
I came here for two reasons.
The first is the drinks. Dahlia and Fallon have been texting about them since seven this morning. I guess it’s some seasonal drink launch today. One that they’ve been tracking like a national holiday. They were planning to pick up the drinks an hour from now. I decided to save them the trip.
The second reason is standing right in front of me with a dirty green apron on and a black marker clenched in his hand. Asshole has no idea what’s coming for him.
“Two large iced chais with extra pumpkin cold foam.”
He asks if there’s anything else, and when I shake my head, he gives me my total. I pull out my wallet, unhurriedly, and pause.
“Actually, there is something else.” I say, leveling my gaze at him as I lean in a little closer. “You wouldn’t happen to know if any of your coworkers have gotten a little aggressive with some of the female customers recently?”
His eyes widen, then shift back and forth uncomfortably.
“My wife mentioned something about it a few weeks back.” I continue, ignoring how good it feels to call her that. “She said whoever it was made her pretty uncomfortable.” I tilt my head slightly.
Brian the barista has gone very still.
“She didn't give me a name though.”
“I don’t— I mean, not that I know of, sir.” He says, eyeing me warily. His voice manages to come out even, but I can see the muscles working in his throat.
