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I arrived right when they opened their doors this morning, right after I saw the gray clouds outside my window. Armed with a comfortable hoodie and two of my favorite books, I was hoping to make the most of my only class-free day.
“Here you are, Charlotte.” The owner placed a fresh caramel latte on my table. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Wait a minute,” I said.
“Yes?”
“This is like the second week in a row that you haven’t asked me to pay for my coffee. Why?”
"I would tell you, but I swore to keep it a secret." She smiled.
“Well, can I guess and then you wink if my prediction is correct? It’s Grayson, isn’t it?”
“You can let me know when you need a refill.” She laughed and walked away from me.
I pulled out my phone and tapped on the calculator, staring at the last number I saved. If the café was going by the number of lattes I’d ordered since Grayson started “secretly” covering them for me, his total so far was one hundred and twenty-five dollars. I forced myself to calculate the amount Saturday night when my cheap-ass date was complaining about me wanting something from the concession stand at the movies.
It was bad enough that he made me pay my way because he "wasn't expecting to buy two tickets,” but he suggested that we walk to the supermarket and risk missing the first twenty minutes of the film. The reason? So he could save two dollars on the candy and get “way better drinks.”
I wasn’t even surprised when he asked for gas money at the end of the night. I was stunned that he had the audacity to ask me on a second date, though.
At this point, I was retiring my foolish college romance dreams and sticking to Nadira’s previous prescription of guy friends only. Every guy I dated disappointed me more than the last, and the one guy who was trying the hardest was completely out of the question.
No matter how many hours me and Nadira stayed up late to weigh the pros and cons of me becoming closer to Grayson—even as a friend, I couldn’t get past the media scrutiny and on-campus attention he received. If he was at a party, everyone knew he was there. If he changed his Facebook status, it instantly garnered thousands of likes. And the second it “looked” like he was with a girl—even if it was an alleged “post-game fuck” or consensual one night stand, the slut-shaming rumor mill received fresh wind. I was far too private for that, and although he was landing the starring role in all my latest fantasies, I was hoping he would eventually stop pursuing me.
“Are you talking to yourself?” The deep sound of his voice startled me, making me turn around.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “It’s not Tuesday.”
“Best friends should be able to see each other whenever they want.”
“Nadira is my best friend. You’re someone I tolerate.”
He laughed and took a seat, motioning for the barista.
“Good afternoon, Grayson.” She blushed as she walked over. “What can I get you?”
“A regular coffee and a box of glazed donuts. Me and my best friend are going to be here for a while.”
She muttered “Lucky bitch” under her breath before rushing off to get his requests.
“I’m in the middle of reading a very important book,” I said. “You’re interrupting.”
He lifted the book from my hands and flipped it over. “You’ve read Harry Potter already. Eight times, if I remember right."
“Everyone knows the ninth re-read of Harry Potter is the most important one.”
“I’m sure.” He smiled and waited until the barista finished setting down his donuts and coffee. “How was your date this weekend?”
"It was amazing." I picked up a donut. "It was the most romantic date I've ever been on in my life. He was a true gentleman all the way and I'll never forget it."
“Hmmm.” He sipped his coffee “Where exactly did he take you?”
“To the movies.”
“That’s romantic?”
"That's just the start. He also took me for a long walk on the waterfront and treated me to a five-star dinner in Station Square. We talked so long that the owner had to put us out at the end.”
“Which restaurant at Station Square?”
“Buca di Beppo.”
"Oh?" A smirk formed on his lips. "Is that so?"
"Yes."
“Well, that would’ve been impossible since our team moved our party there at the last minute, and we had the dining room from nine until three. So, unless your romantic date picked up your food to go or you went somewhere else, you’re lying to make me even more jealous than I already am.”
“You’re jealous?”
“That’s not the point,” he said. “Tell me the truth.”
“Okay, fine.” I let out a breath. “He made me buy my own ticket and concessions, and at the end, he asked for gas money. He also asked me on a second date.”
