“I do,” I say slowly, pushing my plastic coffee cup away from me. She watches the movement, and she shakes her head disbelievingly.
“Well, you’re about to find out,” she singsongs when something behind me catches her eye.
“What?”
“Mm-” she starts but she doesn’t need to finish before I see him.
With lethal timing, just as we’re talking about him, Miles is here, looking devastating. To his credit, he is looking for a lot less dishevelled than he has the last few times I’ve seen him. Maybe he's even showered. He’s dressed plainly in dark jeans and a white top, his curly brown hair falling down his neck. Fuck. Why can’t I tear my eyes away from him? I need to keep myself in check.
“Hey, Wren,” he says with a wicked grin.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” I ask, bored.
Kennedy shoots me a disappointed look as if I’m a naughty kindergartener. He plucks a seat from an empty table nearby and takes a seat to my right, his long legs coming dangerously close to mine. He looks so out of place. Not only are we at a table for two, but his tallness and roughness doesn’t seem to fit into this dainty café.
“Are you not going to introduce me to your friend?” he asks, gesturing to Kennedy. She gives a sheepish smile, practically blushing.
“I hardly know you. There’s no point introducing you to someone you’ll hopefully not see again,” I say. I don’t know why that whenever I’m around him I feel the need to be more bratty than usual. I kind of like the way he challenges me.
“Oh, but you’re dying to get to know me, right?” Miles whines, leaning towards me. God, why does the noise make my stomach swarm with butterflies? Hearing a man groan is one thing but hearing them whine or plead is another. Unfortunately, my weakness.
“Must have slipped my mind,” I say with ease. Kennedy is unimpressed, practically pouting like a child as she crosses her arms across her chest.
“Why do you have to make this so hard, Wrenny?” Kennedy sighs. Before I can retort to her use of my worst nickname, Miles jumps in.
“Yeah. Why do you have to make this so hard,Wrenny?” he repeats in a mocking tone. He turns to Kennedy. “God, I love that nickname. Thank you– Sorry what’s your name, again?”
Kennedy’s face lights up as she extends her hand dramatically. “Kennedy Wynter. Like the season but with a 'Y.' Nice to officially meet you.” Miles takes her hand and shakes it before turning to me.
“Officially, huh? You talking about me already, Wren?” Miles asks cheerfully. I roll my eyes and when he catches it, he smirks.
“You’re infuriating,” I say, holding my hands up to him and then closing them into fists with a sigh, dropping them on the table.
We stare at each other, talking with our eyes. His face puzzled but amused, searching my face for something as the crease between his eyebrow deepens.What are you doing?I’m trying to say.I don’t know, he would say,But you're staring at me.You looked at me first,I’d retort until we’re in an intense staring contest. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out and he clamps it shut.
“I’m sensing some tension here. I’ll see you later, Wren. I need to get back before I get fired,” Kennedy says, sliding out of her seat and picking up her coffee. She comes over to my side of the small table and whispers ‘Play nice’ before flashing a smile to Miles and leaves.
“I’m always nice,” I mutter as Miles takes over Kennedy’s seat, crossing his arms on his chest, spreading his legs out further so he’s manspreading. If I didn’t find him so agitating, I would find what he’s doing right now to be incredibly attractive. I fiddle with my straw of my nearly empty coffee cup.
“Soo,” I drag out, not sure what to say now we’re alone. The side of his mouth twitches but he doesn’t let it turn into a full smile. It was easy to talk at the party because I could run to Scarlett and Ken and I could skate away at the rink but here, it’s like wehaveto speak. I say the dumbest thing that can come to mind. “What’cha doing here?”
“Just doing what everyone else is doing; getting coffee."
“Oh, so your first non-alcoholic drink of the day?” I say, keeping my tone light. He laughs quietly and for some reason I want him to do it again.
“What?! Coffee doesn’t have alcohol? My day has been ruined!” Miles exclaims melodramatically. I like that he’s quick. He’s able to keep up with my sarcasm which isn’t something that I get a lot. Always keeping me on my toes. I hate that it also makes me smile like an idiot.
Whatishe doing? What’s his game plan? Why now? We’ve never really spoken before this point. Sure, we passed in the hallways between the rinks and in the gym a few times but never anything more than a glance. When I saw him at the party, coughing his lungs up over the sink, this was not how I saw it going. I thought I would save this huge guy from dying and continue begging Kennedy and Scarlett to take me home.
“Is it bad that I enjoy talking to you more than most of my friends? You’re, like, hella brutal, but that somehow makes me enjoy it more,” he admits, grinning hard as if this is the most fun, he’s had in a long time. His rashness catches me off guard.
“I think you’re hyper fixating on me to avoid fixing your problems,” I respond truthfully. Because that’s what this is right? He’s going through a tough time, and I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. And now, whenever we’re around each other we feel the need to talk. It’s natural. And honestly, I think I’m doing it too.
He shrugs, looking out of the window. “I guess so.”
His voice sounds so far away. He’s quiet for a while, staring out of the window at the autumn trees in the courtyard, deep in thought. Just out of reach. For a minute I think I’ve upset him or said the wrong thing in the wrong way. Great. This is not awkward at all. It isn’t long before he speaks again.
“Why haven’t you texted me yet?” he asks, peeling his gaze from the window to my face. The way his mind changes and subject shifts almost gives me whiplash.
