Page 99 of The Moment I Knew

He tapped the register screen thoughtfully. “All right. I’ve been workshopping something.”

I tucked my face away to hide my smirk. He had not actually been working on something—whenever this situation happened, he came up with the most disgusting drink he could think of on the spot just to see whether the girls would take it. His Aunt Amelia hated the game, saying they would never return if they thought all The Corner Cup’s drinks were that disgusting, but Katie and I found it hilarious.

“Quad-shot espresso,” he began. “Half oat milk. Half lemonade. Two pumps hazelnut. One peppermint. Whipped cream. Chili flakes.”

Katie made a choking sound that she disguised as a cough.

“Chili flakes?” one of the girls asked.

“For the kick,” Cole said, completely straight-faced.

I dropped my gaze to my cup so they wouldn’t see me grinning.

The girl hesitated for half a second—just enough to show she had survival instincts—and then smiled. “Yeah. Okay.”

Her friends stared at her.

“Are you sure?” one whispered.

“It sounds… fun,” she said, like she was convincing herself.

Cole rang it up without blinking. “Name?”

“Whitney.”

They shuffled to the side to wait. Close enough to my spot at the counter that I didn’t even have to try to overhear.

“That sounds disgusting,” one of them whispered.

“Yeah, but he suggested it,” Whitney whispered back. “This is my in.”

“You really think he’s single?” her friend asked, her gaze flicking to Cole. “I mean, look at him. Plus, they say he’s like super dangerous. That he went to juvie.”

“Which just means he’ll be protective,” Whitney said. And then they all giggled.

I’d suggested to Cole that he could try to combat the rumors in town if they bothered him, but he told me it was a lost cause. Everyone here had already made up their minds about him and he didn’t want to spend his last year and a half of high school trying to convince everyone of what they should believe. He’d kissed me gently and said all the people who mattered already knew the truth.

Behind the counter, Cole moved with easy efficiency — pulling shots, steaming milk, measuring lemonade like he was building something precise instead of catastrophic. When he sprinkled chili flakes over the whipped cream, he did it with the focus of a surgeon.

He glanced toward me briefly. Just a flick of his eyes. I raised my brows. He almost smiled.

“Whitney,” he called, sliding the cup across the counter. She looked mildly disgusted as it slid across, but to her credit, she bravely picked it up and took a sip, barely even making a disgusted face.

“Uh… Wow. That’s…”

“Layered?” Katie offered.

“Yeah!” Whitney agreed immediately. “Layered.”

Katie disappeared into the back room immediately. I swore I could hear her laughing in the back room, but the girls didn’t seem to notice.

The girls lasted another five minutes before fleeing, Whitney clutching the cup like it was a test she couldn’t fail. The bell chimed behind them.

Cole wiped down the counter, said something under his breath to Katie that made her snort, then made two quick drinks.

He carried one over to me and set it down carefully.

“No chili flakes,” he promised.