“Why would I want to put all that baggage on someone? I wish I didn’t have it myself. And it’s not like every guy I date dumps me for not being an emotional oversharer. I’d say most guys appreciate that about me. Some things just don’t work out.”
She scoffs at this. “Love, there’s a difference between not working out and you ending things before you can get hurt.”
“That’s not what I do.”
Again, she raises her hands. “Okay, okay. I wasn’t trying to get your hackles up. I just don’t want you to be alone forever. You deserve to be happy.”
I’m about to push her on her sudden interest when I notice that Jaz is no longer looking at me. She’s looking past me, which is strange. Jaz is one of those people who gives you a hundred percent of her attention. It’s part of what makes her a great barista and why I keep suggesting they convert Harbour Grounds to a bar at night—she’d make a great bartender.
She lets out a low whistle, just loud enough for me to hear, and I giggle as understanding dawns on me.
“Damn… Don’t look now, but you can forget everything I just said because I think your future husband just walked in.” Her eyes have gone all soft and gooey, like the center of a cinnamon roll. “Yum-my!”
Typical Jaz to casually transition from debating my love life to finding my future husband. She’s probably trying to keep me from being mad at her. Not that I could ever stay mad at her for long, no matter what she drops on me at nine a.m. while I’m jet-lagged and caffeine-deprived. It’s working though, because I’m intrigued. Her face says enough about how hot the guy behind me must be.
I turn slowly on my stool, taking a sip of my drink as I go. You know, so it doesn’t seem as obvious that the only reason I’m turning around is to ogle an innocent customer. But when I make it all the way around, I inhale sharply, cold foam and coffee clogging my lungs. The coughing and spluttering cover some of my reaction, but nothing can drown out the recognition.
Oh god. That sharp jawline. The stubbled face and dimples. The messy hair. Messy hair I wanted to run my hands through less than twenty-four hours ago.
I spin back to the counter and try to pull coffee-free air through my lips. He’s just a mirage. He’s not real. I wipe at my hoodie with a napkin, glad the navy blue will mask the stains of my embarrassment. All the while, Jaz is looking at me like I’ve grown a second head. Her evergreen eyes are round. She’s also speechless, which is not something I’ve ever witnessed in my best friend.
“Bloody hell, what was that, Joss?”
Now she finds her words. She’s also using them way too loudly and includingmy name. I act on instinct, leaning across the bar and slapping my hand across her mouth to stop her talking. If it’s possible, her eyes grow even wider.
“Shhhh. Don’t draw his attention. Don’t look at him. Look at me,” I whisper-shout, as if it will somehow undo this nightmare. But it doesn’t, and as I lower my hand, she glances back to me with aWhat the fucklook. This is not going well.
“I might already know him.” The words are clipped and kind of garbled. I’m honestly amazed Jaz can even understand me at this point. She makes akeep goinggesture with her hand, a wide and far too interested smile spreading across her face. “He was on my flight in from LA yesterday. It’s a long story.”
“Oh my god!” Now she’s the one whisper-shouting, and she follows up her quiet proclamation with a flick to my nose, making my eyes jump to hers in shock.
“Ow! That hurt.”
“Did you do the nasty with him in the bathroom?” She waggles her dark eyebrows at me. “Can we call him Mr. Mile High Club?”
She’s taking way too much pleasure in this, making me wish a crack would open in the ground and swallow me whole.
“First of all…” I flick her nose in return, earning me a little yelp. “Second of all, no I did notdo the nastywith him, do you think I want to get fired? No! I just—we just… ugh, it’s hard to explain when he’s—”
I don’t get to complete my sentence as I hear a deep voice rumble from behind me. “Right here.”
Oh my god. I let my head fall to the counter, all hope of avoiding exactly this flying out the window. Did he hear all of that? No. No.No.
“Kill me now,” I mutter, but the deep chuckle behind me tells me he definitely heard me. I lift my head and catch sight of Jaz’s face. She’s gone muteagain. That’s twice in 5 minutes, an all-time record. Turning, I hold my breath and take him in.
Wes Anderson.
CHAPTER FIVE
Wes
Ican’t keep the gleeful smile off my face as the beautiful—and incredibly flustered—Joss rotates in her seat to meet my gaze. The bright pink in her cheeks is even more appealing than it was yesterday, and I love that I put it there. Again.
I woke up thinking about this girl, probably because my dreams all ended with us in the same spot we were at on the plane yesterday. I rarely dream of anything these days besides the crash, so I’ll take visions of her over that every night. I can’t believe my luck that of all the coffee shops in all of Sydney, this is the one she chose today. Or maybe it’s her regular spot, seeing as she was comfortable enough to flick the barista’s nose a second ago.
“Good morning,Joss.” I use her name so she’ll know, without a doubt, that I remember exactly who she is. I feel like a kid in a candy store.
It’s almost like my inability to stop thinking about her since we parted ways made her materialize here, less than a block away from my apartment. I take note of those enchanting grey eyes as they check me out from head to toe, and my smile only widens. I have to drag my eyes away from her to reach across the counter and extend my hand to her friend.
