“Tall,” I said, used to Starbucks lingo. “I mean, small.”
“Great!” The barista input my order into the iPad-resembling register. “That’ll be eight oh five.”
Sadly, I didn’t even blink. Everything was so expensive these days.
“Put it on my tab,” someone said before I could dig out my wallet, and I whipped around to see Marco Álvarez standing behind me. One corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile, like we shared some kind of secret. “I’ll have a medium chai,” he added. “Iced, and we’ll also take two chocolate chip muffins.” He dropped his voice to a whisper while tapping his debit card against the register PIN pad. “They aren’t thebestpastries in town, but they’re good enough.”
Speechless, I couldn’t find my words until he’d guided me over to the pickup area, a gentle hand on my back until I not-so-subtly elbowed him. “What are you doing here?” I finally asked.
“I like to study here,” Marco answered, and it was then I realized that I was looking at a Marco I hadn’t met before. I was used to him walking our school hallways in track pants and soccer hoodies or his soccer uniform. His Ember & Ash attire, even. But no, today, right in front of me, he wore an army-green jacket and white Converse high-tops with what Iknewwere Lululemon pants. Austin had the same pair.
They looked nice on Marco.
You know, objectively speaking.
“And since when do you wear glasses?” I asked, my brow wrinkling at his rounded tortoiseshell frames.
“Technically since fourth grade,” he said, annoyingly amused. “But I only wore them at home; contacts were much better for soccer.” He stepped forward to grab our order. I hadn’t even noticed his name had been called.
“Ah,” I said.
“It’s true.” His lips twisted into a smile, and he handed me my million-dollar coffee. It was in a takeout cup, and our pastries were in the same brown paper bag. “Anyway.” He took out one of the muffins. “What are you doing in town?”
“Oh, well, I’m…” I started, but drifted off, somehow noticing Crescent Moon’s bell ring amid all the chaos. A cute Black guy walked through, wearing a blazer with a white button-downand a loosened striped tie. A private school uniform if there ever was one.
That had to be Davis.
“I have to go,” I abruptly told Marco. “I’m meeting someone.”
He raised an intrigued brow. “Okay,” he said and handed me the pastry bag. “It was good seeing you, Mads.”
Instead of grabbing a table and waiting around for Reese’s cousin to track me down, I went straight up and greeted him like he’d just gotten out of a limo at the famous Bachelor Mansion.
“Davis?”
From the flash of light in his eyes, I could tell he recognized me. “Hey, Madeline!”
“Mads,” I said back. “It’s just Mads.”
Crap.I wanted to backtrack.I couldn’t have said hello first?
“It’s nice to meet you,” I added quickly, smiling.
“It’s nice to meet you, too.” He smiled back, and then it was clear that neither of us knew what to do next. A hug seemed like too much, and we couldn’t shake hands because I was double-fisting it with my latte in one and my muffin in the other.
Also, was shaking hands even a thing anymore?
“I’m sorry I already ordered,” I blurted. “I, um, wasn’t sure…”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Davis said. He was cute, looking more like Reese’s younger brother than her cousin. Tall and lean with what Austin and I called the “Peaky Blindershaircut.” Shaved on the sides and longer on top. His ears adorably stuck out a little. “How about you find us a spot,” he suggested, “while I go grab a drink?”
I managed to snag two cushy armchairs the second two people vacated them, and Davis joined me several minutes later with what looked like a swirled caramel Frappuccino. “School was really draining today,” he said when he caught my amused look. “I’m treating myself.”
“Where do you go to school?” I asked. “Reese wouldn’t tell me anything beyond your first name.”
Davis chuckled. “That sounds like her.” He took a sip of his drink. “I go to Hun. It’s right down the road.”
“I know Hun,” I said. “They tried to recruit me for field hockey.”
