I lift my head only enough to see her face. She looks like she’s been waiting her whole life for this opportunity. I want to punch her, but I know she can hit back.
“He has a game this weekend,” I mumble through my fingers.
She snaps her laptop closed. “Well, what the hell are we doing here then? We’ve got to get home. I have boxes full of new swag we can sort through. Between that and my closet, we’ll get you set for a while.”
She stands, and I remain seated. I want to pull all my hair out.
She sits again. “Ryder.” Her voice is tender, and sympathy fills her gaze.
I want to look away.
“I understand this is painful. All of it.”
I know she knows.
“It really will be ok. We’ll make sure you still feel like you. I promise.”
I stare at her. If there’s anyone I trust with this, it’s Lyla. She’s got mad skills in this department.
I nod unenthusiastically.
Her smile returns, and she grabs my hand. “Come on. This is gonna be so great.”
“Great, my ass. You just need to make sure my holster fits.”
She laughs. “Hurry up. We need all the time, before the girls get out of school.”
“Time? For me to survive, it’ll take a miracle.”
______
Cole pulls open the door to a small coffee shop, holding it for me.
My eyes coast up and down the street. “You have to go first, just like you stay between me and the buildings.”
He remains still for only a moment before stepping through the door, but I catch the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
What the hell is so funny?
I follow him to the counter, surveying the space. A young man with black hair and piercings, wearing headphones, is typing on a laptop in the back corner. An older man with glasses perched on his nose, looking like he should be smoking a pipe, sits against the exposed brick wall, reading. Three teenage girls are seated at a table by the window, each with a large iced coffee.They take turns glancing in our direction before returning to their phones. The remaining handful of tables are empty.
Cole orders a matcha latte, then turns to me. “Order whatever you’d like.”
I survey the street again beyond the large windows, feeling the barista’s eyes on me. “Thanks. I’ll get my own.”
His shoulders fall a little, but I notice it. He turns toward me, his back to the barista. “Don’t be weird.”
Three pairs of young eyes bore into my back. Cole’s gaze moves over my head, confirming it.
He leans a little closer. “I may not be able to hold the door for you, but since you’re here for me, I’m going to buy your coffee or whatever it is you’d like.”
His blue, blue eyes hold mine, waiting. This man and his chivalry.
I inhale and exhale slowly and steadily. “This isn’t a date. It’s my job to be here. I’ll buy my own coffee.”
We are setting boundaries in our newfound working relationship, and I want to keep things crystal clear.
His head cocks to the side, eyes locked on mine. I scan the tables.
