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“There’s no reason to get defensive,” he chuckled, rubbing his jaw.
I glanced at him quickly, before my eyes flickered back to my cup of coffee, studying it intently.
I stared out the window, across the road at the strip mall, like it was the most interesting thing I had ever seen.
I shuffled my cup of coffee back and forth, scooting it along the tabletop, but then, it went flying from my fingers and tipped over. The contents spilled out on the counter and straight onto Trace’s jeans.
He jumped from his stool to avoid more of the hot liquid. My cheeks flamed. This would only happen to me.
“I’m so sorry,” I exclaimed, setting the cup upright, and grabbing a wad of napkins to dry the mess I had made. Trace would have to take care of his pants because I wasn’t going near that.
“It’s okay,” he assured me, wiping his jeans.
I bit down on my lip to hold back tears. I was the most embarrassing person on the planet.
I threw away the soiled napkins and frowned at the stain covering his jeans.
“Hey,” he grabbed my chin. “It’s no big deal. They’re only jeans. Look at them,” he pointed at the material, “they’re already covered in grease stains. What’s a little coffee?”
“Stop trying to make me feel better,” I mumbled, stepping away from his touch.
He let his hand fall to his side. By now, the people gathered in Starbucks were watching us.
He shook his head, a small smile gracing his lips as if he was holding back laughter, and threw away his empty coffee cup.
“I have to get back to work,” he slid his sunglasses on. “And
change my pants,” he chuckled. “I’ll see you Friday.”
“Friday,” I nodded, as my stomach twisted, amazed that he still wanted to see me after I spilled coffee on his jeans.
He smiled as he left, waving at me through the glass, as he got into his car.
I watched him drive away, and took a deep breath, feeling like I could breathe now that he was gone.
The way he made me feel scared me to death.
No one had ever made me feel the way Trace did.
A single look or touch from him sent my insides roaring.
I didn’t know him, but it felt like I did.
He was one of those people that was easy to trust…even if I did turn into a blubbering idiot around him.
My fingers sought my list in my jeans pocket. I touched the paper, biting on my lip.
I pulled it out of my pocket and threw my coffee away.
I unfolded the paper and stared at my Live List.
I made my list to try new things and be adventurous…so maybe, it was time I took that leap and told someone…told Trace.
The worst that could happen, would be, he’d laugh in my face.
But my gut told me that he wouldn’t do that.
The question was…was I ready?
