Page 36 of Library or Lattes?

“Well, I don’t know that much about it, so all I can do is tell you what I do know …?”

“Well, what you know is about eighty percent more than me, so I’m all ears.”

His eyes flicked to mine and his mouth twitched like he was going to smile. Then he cleared his throat and started talking about the UK Parliament.

I took notes and asked questions, focusing on every single word he had to say, because this was the important stuff. This was what mattered. Not football games and movie nights.

London. The exam. My future.

5 Lattes

WHEN I WALKED INTO THE Little Acorn after school, I pretended to be fixing one of the dried maple leaf decorations on the wall. Otherwise, I would just be staring at James, flustered behind the counter. At his messy hair, like he’d just gotten out of bed, and at the intensity in his brown eyes as they darted around the coffee shop. Eyes that fell on me, making everything stop.

I was by the door and he was behind the counter in his white T-shirt, muscular arms tensing under the tray he was holding. We just stared at each other for the first time since our—incredible—make-out session. I could feel the heat rise in my face, so I took off my scarf and my coat quickly.

“Good day at school, Red?” he asked as I joined him near the coffee machine, my heart fluttering at being this close to him again.

“Distracting. I kept thinking about our fundraising and then totally lost my way in algebra.”

“Think of it this way, Red, the more math you do, the more accounts you can do here, so I don’t have to,” James said playfully.

I glanced over at the table where we’d kissed, now occupied by a couple of tourists. I replayed it in my head—not for the first time today. It hadn’t just been Harvest Festival plans filling up my brain. The feeling of his soft lips, the surge of desire, the firmness of his hands on me. I bit my lip, then looked up to see James’s eyes drop to my mouth, just for a second. Then he looked away and reached over the counter to pick up a donut.

“Accounts are not my fave,” I said. “But I do think we should make a ton of the maple pecan donuts for the event. They keep selling out, so people clearly like them.”

He lifted the donut to his mouth and took a huge bite.

“James!” I scolded. “Those aren’t for us.”

“What?” he said, with a full mouth and a smile. “They’re really good.”

“Well, I know they’re good. That’s why they keep selling out. Unless you’re just eating them all.” I put my hands on my hips and tapped my foot.

“You look cute when you’re mad,” he said.

Now he was out-and-out flirting. I tried and failed not to smile, and started to gather things for the festival as those waves of desire rolled in my stomach.

Movie night at Lennie’s was transformed into art school, where Lennie was the teacher, and the pupil (me) … was just watching. Yeah, I could write a HAPPY FALL Y‘ALL sign for the coffee shop, but when we needed an intricate backdrop with major fall spirit, Lennie was the obvious choice.

Lennie’s house was a shoes-off house, and her mom kept a little basket of slippers beside the door. I loved it here, because it always smelled of something delicious cooking. It was usually some kind of rice or noodle dish, because if your grandma (or poh poh, as Lennie called her) was from actual China and lived in your house, then why on earth would you want to eat boring American food? Although Lennie did tell me once that hot dogs with ketchup and mustard were her poh poh’s guilty pleasure. The rice cooker was a permanent feature on the kitchen counter, and more often than not, Lennie’s poh poh would be speaking Mandarin on the phone to someone. Tonight, it was just me and Lennie. For now, anyway. Her whole family was out at her sister’s piano recital.

Lennie sat on her bedroom floor, legs crossed. “So, tell me about the kissing!” she said.

“It was really hot …” I said, and I could feel it again. The butterflies. “Like it felt really desperate or something, and then when it ended, it definitely felt unfinished.”

Lennie looked up with a cocked eyebrow. “So what now? Are you guys going to work together, sleep together …”

“Lennie!” I said, and ran my hand along the spines of her overflowing bookshelves. She had a whole row dedicated to banned books and displayed them facing out. “Out and proud like me,” she always said.

“I’m not going to sleep with him …” I said, as if the thought absolutely hadn’t crossed my mind. But it had, a lot. Every day. And there was that time the other night, when we were locking up the coffee shop and he leaned around me to lock the door. His whole body covered mine, like some kind of protection. I closed my eyes and replayed the scene before turning around to face my best friend.

“Well, why not?” She added another dried leaf to her masterpiece.

“Hold on. What about you and Sara? Are you going to sleep together?” I asked.

“How dare you suggest something so intimate. Quite frankly, Willa, that is none of your business,” Lennie said, and kept on decorating. I laughed and threw a cushion at her head.

“We might have kissed last week, though …” Lennie said quietly.