Something must’ve spooked her because she’s moving directly in front of my much larger frame using me as a shield, and it’s got me questioning why she’s skittish, or even more so, what’s making her nervous. Swiftly looking behind me acting like I’m adjusting my backpack, I strain my neck, but I don’t see anything suspicious.
Unless I’m the reason she’s nervous?
I can’t really blame her if that’s the case. I did speak to her shitty, and although I apologized, I understand if she hasn’t fully accepted the apology. Nobody—especially a girl—deserves to be spoken to like that, and I’ve been mentally cursing myself since that day.
The first impression she has on me is that I’m a dick who talks to people like shit, which is far from the truth.
“I uh, I was just about to head into Leon’s for a coffee,” I gesture toward the on-campus cafe situated just a foot or so away from us. “Did you wanna join me?”
Maybe buying her a coffee—or whatever she drinks—as another apology will clear the awkward air between us. She’s going to be around me and the rest of the team until the semester ends, and I don’t want any awkward tension in the air that has others questioning what happened between us.
“Yes!” She practically shouts, grabbing a hold of my arm and dragging me along the sidewalk, but somehow keeping directly in front of me, cautious not to let someone see her, but who? And why.
Once the door opens to Leon’s, the warm air greets us, and I visibly relax. It’s only the middle of October, but Riverside is starting to become colder as the days go on, and it’s only going to continue getting colder, which is something I’m not looking forward to.
“Uh, can we sit in this booth over here?” Lilly asks, gesturing toward a booth that’s secluded toward the back with a large potted plant obstructing its view, which also happens to be my go-to booth whenever I come here alone.
My original plan was to grab the drinks and go home, but bumping into Lilly changed all of that. I’m sure the boys won’t mind that I’m taking my time. I’ll order their drinks before I leave and tell them that something came up, which isn’t a far stretch from the truth.
“Sure, I’ll grab the drinks,” I nod. “What do you want?”
“A mocha, please,” she smiles, pulling her bag from her shoulder and opening it. “I’ll give you the cash,” she says, fumbling around in her bag. “Just give me a sec.”
“It’s fine,” I wave her off. “My treat, as an apology for being shitty toward you.”
She freezes, her handstill buried in her bag. “You want to buy me a drink?” A puzzled expression crosses her face as her brows furrow. “As an apology?”
“Yes.” I nod, meeting her gaze.
She looks taken back, and a look glazes over her eyes, which makes my heart sink. She looks genuinely appreciative, like she cannot believe I’m offering to buy her something—even if it’s just a cup of coffee.
“Are you sure you don’t want the money?” She brings her wallet out, her hands fumbling with it.
“Positive,” I smile at her. “Go sit down and I’ll bring the drinks over when they’re done.”
“Are you sure?” She asks once again.
Why wouldn’t I be sure?
“Yes.”
“Only if you’re positi—”
Cutting her off, I grab a hold of her wallet and place it back into her bag before shoving it into her hands. My own hands land on her arms, electricity shooting up them, but I wave off the sudden feeling that I’ve never experienced before as a one-time thing.
“Look, Lilly,” I start, glancing into her eyes. “It’s four dollars, if that,” I gesture with my head toward the large board above the counter where all the drinks are named and priced. “It’s nothing, okay?”
Her eyes search mine, but then she reluctantly nods her head. “Okay, fine,” she lets out a breath. “I guess I’ll go sit down then.”
“Good girl.” I respond, and not only do my eyes widen, but hers do too.
I could feel her body erupt in goosebumps and it has me quickly letting go of her arms like the mere touch of her skin burned me. Clearing my throat, I make a weak response about getting the drinks before spinning on my heels and walking toward the counter, praying she sits down instead of hightailing out of here.
Good girl?
What the fuck, Greyson?
Why did I just call her that in a café filled with not only students, but Professors too. Scrap that, what possessed me to even say it in the first place? It’s the first time in my life I’ve ever called anyone that. It slipped out, and I hate to admit this, but it felt natural, too natural. And I’m not sure how I feel about that.
