Maybe he died. Christ that’s dark, Cleo. Could you be any more dramatic?
Maybe he’s just busy and you’re overreacting just a teensy bit?
Frustration, sadness, and anger pressed heavy on her shoulders as she left the rink with a dejected Molly to hit the coffee shop next door. Most of her anger was directed at herself. What had she expected? To talk to the stranger on the phone forever?
Maybe?
Did she think he would never date or find anyone else?
I mean, I’d kinda hoped he wouldn’t.
They hadn’t set down any expectations of exclusivity. She snorted aloud, drawing a raised eyebrow from Molly that she dismissed with a shake of her head. They’d never even met, they’d only been trading texts for a few weeks, and she had no right to be upset that he hadn’t replied to her messages.
Except she was. And she was mad about the fact she was upset.
The Sugar Bean opened late every evening and served the best hot chocolate she’d ever tasted. Tonight was a hot chocolate kind of night – fully loaded with cream and marshmallows – she couldn’t feel her toes but was desperate to remove the hockey team branding from her body before anyone else saw her.
She shivered, unsure why it bothered her so much. It was just a sweater. It wasn’t as if her grades would tank from one night out at a hockey game, and it wasn’t as though the fabric of the team sweater would suck out her intelligence. Plenty of smart people watched sports, Molly being a prime example. So why did the collar feel as though it was closing around her throat?
“Wanna talk about it?” Molly picked up the two drinks from the end of the counter and followed Cleo to a small two-seater table tucked in the corner.
Cleo slid into the seat facing the entrance and accepted the brimming mug of hot chocolate from her friend. “Talk about what?”
“Oh honey, we both know this…” She waved a hand in front of Cleo’s face. “Isn’t because the Pirates lost. What gives? Why so sad, Flower? Trouble in phone-boy-land?”
Her breath stopped in her chest. “We’re not... I don’t even know him, Mol. Can you not? Please?”
Molly’s eyes widened. She plucked a marshmallow from her drink and popped it in her mouth. “Yeah, okay. So you’re not at all having any feelings about this boy at all, right?”
Cleo wasn’t going there. “Oh hey, I was meaning to thank you for callingAAAfor me. The guy who came out to fix my car was super nice. I dunno how you got him to come out so fast, every number I called couldn’t fit me in.”
“Nice try. Deflecting from your feels by thanking me for something you know I didn’t do.”
Cleo’s head snapped up from her mug, confusion creeping up her spine. “What? You didn’t? Then who the hell fixed my car? He wouldn’t take any money and I figured it would go through insurance. I hadn’t gotten around to asking my folks about how it all works since I’ve never needed to get my car fixed before. If you didn’t do it, then who did?”
Molly shrugged her shoulders. “Not it. Also not an issue since the car is fixed and it didn’t cost you anything. Take the win, girlfriend. Now, back to the Phone Boy…”
The tinkling of the bell above the door bought her a moment to think about the answer. Lincoln, Will, and two guys she assumed were also on the team, walked into the coffee house.
A blast of cold air passed through the café, taking her higher brain function with it. Was she drooling? Why were they wearing suits? Why was her mouth drier than the desert? Why couldn’t she peel her eyes away from the… shoulders? Good lord, had he always had those shoulders? That was one fine group of men standing at the counter.
Lincoln stood, dragging the pad of his thumb across his bottom lip as he stared up at the menu.
Cleo chewed the inside of her cheek as she trailed her eyes across his chest, and all the way to the floor. She swallowed hard, and squeezed her thighs together.When did it get so warm in here?
She squeaked as a giggling Molly pinched her thigh.
“You’re getting drool on the table, Cho-Cho. Damn. People will think you’ve never seen a post-game hockey player before.”
Mute. Cleo couldn’t form words and she hated herself for it. She’d always judged the women in books and movies who lost the capacity to speak at the sight of a delicious man, and yet here she was, barely able to remember her own name and drowning in her own drool.
Stop staring.
She plunged her teeth into her lip and turned her attention back to her hot chocolate, which, despite being hot enough to scald her tongue, didn’t come close to the burning she was feeling in other parts of her body.
Stop it.
“He has that effect on a lot of women.” Molly’s murmured hush was loud enough for only Cleo to hear.
