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I nod, still fluttered as a hen in its cage.
"Don't stress too much, it's not as bad as it seems. Look at it this way, you could be giving blow jobs to smelly truck drivers for twenty bucks."
Thirteen
Another Monday where class is a bust.
I’m having a hard time focusing this morning due to the lack of sleep. I tossed and turned all night with tons of questions weighing on my mind, different theories, and of course, the shame.
My mind continues to be a maze with three entrances and no exits, my stomach a knotted mess cramping together as I sit in a freezing lecture hall. Riddled with intense guilt, I almost pull my phone out to message Natalie to tell her I’m not going, but something inside of me holds me back.
As soon as class lets out, I grab my books and briskly walk to the first coffee shop I can find. I'm going to need something a little stronger to make it through the rest of the day. I stand in line inhaling the dark aroma and already feel a little better. There's something about the smell of brewed coffee that just makes me feel good and instantly calms my nerves.
The doors behind me are open with customers streaming in and out, the street air cooling down the little vintage shop. This is what I love about living in the city. There's something new to experience every single day.
"I'll have a triple shot with your medium roast, no sugar, half and half, please." I'm out of one job and called into sick to another, this could be my last decadent cup of java for a while.
"A woman after my own heart," a man says from behind me as I reach into my purse for my wallet.
I turn around and look up into a pair of dark chocolate eyes. He's about my height, with lashes as thick as soot and a jawline that could sharpen knives. I'm feeling a little shy and pull my books tighter to my chest.
"Desperate times calls for desperate measures." I smile at him. "It's Monday, and I'm on a mission to take over the world."
"I'll have what she's having," he says to the barista, and pulls a hundred from his money clip then reaches around me to drop it on the counter.
"Oh, no. Here, let me give you money," I say and fumble with my purse. A book slips from my grasp and drops to the floor. I'm not a clumsy kind of girl, so my action just embarrasses me. I watch as he reaches down to pick it up, and his green scrubs catch my eye. I'd been too busy staring into his eyes to notice anything else.
"The coffee is on me," he says like it's the end of the discussion. "Getting a gorgeous girl a cup of coffee is the least I can do."
I smile in appreciation.
"And because"—he leans back to look at my textbooks—"you're studying at Fordham."
"You guessed that by a three-second look at my books?"
The twinkle in his eyes causes a flutter in my stomach. If I wasn't in such a rush to head to my next class, I might try to strike up a conversation with him.
"No, it's just the closest school nearby, and because most college students live on ramen noodles and coffee."
That isn't a far stretch of the truth.
"I usually get coffee cold
, but I need a good swift kick to my ass today. I actually love it with sweetened condensed milk and cream of coconut—shaken, not stirred—but not a lot of places carry that."
He studies me. "That's an interesting concoction."
"It's rich and creamy and has a pleasant aftertaste."
Heat blossoms under my cheeks. I don't know why I said all that.
He places his left hand into his pocket and says, "How about I take you to your favorite coffee shop tonight and you can introduce me to this drink of yours?"
Blunt. Forward. I love it, yet it catches me off guard. I almost take him up on the offer when I remember I have an interview tonight at a whorehouse. I'm pretty sure no respectable man would ever allow his girlfriend to sell herself. Not that we would immediately start dating or anything, of course.
The man reaches around me and grabs the coffee off the counter then hands it to me. Our fingers brush and I feel a little rouse in my body. God, I hope I don't act like this with clients. He reaches for the other cup and takes a sip, his eyes boring into mine over the rim like he's getting a read on me. It's a little thrilling.
"I can already see you're going to decline. How about we meet back here tomorrow?"
