No, I will not let those thoughts enter my mind right now.I’ll be here and be present and be sweaty.Super sweaty.Gross sweaty.The air feels like you could cut it with a knife, thanks to the sky-high humidity.The air conditioning of the cutest coffee shop ever provides immediate relief.
It smells divine in here.If I weren’t in public, I’d yell to the ceiling and ask my sister if this is what heaven smells like.Coffee beans, vanilla, and cinnamon drift through the air.Two swings hang on ropes on one side of the shop.They remind me of the swings Gramps made for Richie and me.
I order an iced mocha and a cinnamon roll and then go sit on the swings to wait.I’m gently rocking back and forth, back and forth, remembering the hours spent in the weeping willow tree in the backyard.Richie and I would have contests to see who could go the highest.Though heights have never been my favorite thing—Richie was obviously the daredevil—I could pump a swing like no one’s business.
I close my eyes and can practically feel the wind rushing over my face and through my hair as I soar into the sky.
"Rachel?Is that you?What are you doing here?"
The voice startles me out of my reverie, and I jump, which causes me to nearly fall off the swing.
"No, seriously, are you stalking me?"TJ Doyle asks, looking down at me.Between my sitting position on the swing and his tall stature, it’s quite intimidating, at least from this vantage point.Also, it’s not super comfortable to stare up at him, yet I can’t stare straight ahead because that’s not socially acceptable to have your gaze on someone’s crotch either.
"Rachel!Order ready for Rachel!"the barista yells.Thank God.
I manage to stand, my legs rubbery from the shock of his accusation.Well, actually, from the shock of being called out in public at all.He only takes the tiniest of steps backward to allow me to get up.There’s about a millimeter of space between us.I can feel the heat wafting off his body.Jesus.
Also, standing up doesn’t do much to improve the height difference.He’s got to be over six feet tall, while I clock in around 5′2″.
"Nope, I was here first.I think you’re stalking me," I somehow manage to say.With that, I put my fingertips on his chest—dear Lord, is he made of granite?—and push him back slightly.
No one—not even this Adonis—stands between me and my food.
I head to the counter and pick up my order.The cinnamon roll is still warm with a thick buttercream frosting oozing down the side.I’m salivating.I immediately take a bite, letting out a small reflexive groan of pleasure when the confectionary masterpiece hits my taste buds.
This may be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.
It’s so good, I shove a little more into my mouth than is polite.On one hand, I want to savor the perfection, while on the other, I want to inhale it whole.If I could mainline it, I would.
"Good?"TJ Doyle asks, a wicked amusement dancing through his blue eyes.
"Mmmm hmmm," I manage, my mouth too full to answer.I set my iced mocha down on a table, point to the cinnamon roll still in my hands, and then give a thumbs-up.
"I’ll take that under consideration."
"Tyler!Order ready for Tyler!"It’s his turn to pick up his stuff.
I sit down and take a sip of my coffee.My head is clearing from the shock.What is TJ Doyle doing here, in my coffee shop?Okay, I’ve only lived in the neighborhood for like ten minutes, but it’s still mine.I was here first.I hereby brand this seat at this table in this shopMine.
Now that that’s settled between me and my inner monologue, I try to distract myself by pulling out Richie’s list and reading it over.Maybe there’s another item I can cross off just as easily as meeting TJ Doyle.Maybe—
I don’t get to finish the thought because the paper is snatched out of my hands.
"What’s this?"TJ says as he flips the list over.In one effortless move, he’s placed his smoothie down on the table, straddled the chair, and begins to read.
I have no idea how anyone moves that fast and that smoothly.Is it some kind of witchcraft?Is his perfection actually CGI, and I’m now living in some sort of virtual-reality Matrix-type universe?
"Give that back to me," I say, reaching for my sister’s list.I snatch it out of his hands and hug it to my chest, feeling the paper wrinkle against my body.
"I saw my name on there."He lifts his cup and takes a long pull on the straw, never breaking eye contact.That makes something deep within my stomach flutter.Probably from eating the cinnamon roll too fast.
Then, he breaks his intense stare by picking up his phone and snapping a selfie with his beverage, the logo on the cup prominently displayed.He sets his drink down and begins furiously typing.
Suddenly, I’m sweating in places I didn’t know I sweated.I blink rapidly, apparently losing all control of my facial muscles."No, you didn’t."
"Yes, I did," he says, still typing on his phone."I may uphold every single stereotype there is for the dumb jock, but I can at least recognize my name in print."Finally, he turns his gaze to mine.
Man, his eyes are blue.Deep pools to get lost in, like in every clichéd romance book.I wince reflexively at his words."You’re not dumb."I don’t know why I say this.Maybe he is.I don’t know him at all.I just hate to hear someone talk so poorly about themselves.
