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“Yeah, of course,” I answer, and I’m met with a delighted squeal.
“Good, Amelia and her friend, Sofia, are working for me that night, so give them a ride in, will you?”
I pause. “Why are they working?”
“Money, of course,” she answers as if it’s obvious, and I guess it is. But I’m jealous my mom will get to hang with Sofia.
Looking back into the coffee shop, I feel my heart knock in my chest as I drink in Sofia while she writes vigorously on her notepad. I so desperately want to know everything about her, it takes my breath away. Or she takes it. Either way, I find myself gasping. Trying to sound the least bit interested, I say, “Oh, true.”
“Have you asked her out yet?”
I choke on my own spit. Coughing, I say, “Huh?”
“Sofia. Have you asked her out?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ryan, I saw how you were looking at her. You’re smitten. It’s sweet.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No. Amelia told you.”
“That too,” she says, and I groan. “I don’t think for one second Sofia isn’t interested in you. You’re adorable.”
Great, am I that pathetic that my mom has to tell me I’m adorable? “Well, thanks, Mom,” I say, thinking of the many ways I can torture my sister. Using her phone as a puck is a clear winner so far. “I don’t know.”
“So we aren’t going to talk about this?”
“Nope.”
“Fine, be like that. I’ll wait for an update from Amelia.”
I groan. “I don’t like you two right now.”
“Aw, but we love you.”
I shake my head. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, love you.”
“Bye, honey,” she says cheerfully.
Hanging up, I tuck my phone into my pocket before running my hands down the front of my jeans. I bring my ball cap down a bit, just enough to avoid pushing my glasses down. I inhale hard and try to get my heart in check. It doesn’t work, though. I’m starting to accept that this is how it is when I think about or get around Sofia.
Heading inside, I go straight for where Amelia and Sofia are sitting at a round table in the corner. Amelia is wearing a little dress that, in my opinion, is too short. But I’m not looking at her. I’m completely taken by Sofia, as is the whole room. Guys keep glancing over to where Amelia is laughing as Sofia runs her fingers down her face. I don’t know if it’s my sister or Sofia who is drawing the guys’ attention, but for me, it’s the latter.
She’s stunning.
Amelia sees me first, and she makes a face. “Ew, what are you doing here?”
“It’s the only coffee shop on campus now that Get Coffee closed,” I say, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “Plus, I have a bone to pick with you.”
“A bone to pick with me?” she asks, her brows furrowing. I’m trying my hardest to glare at her and not drool all over Sofia. It’s a tough task, for sure. “I have one to pick with you!”
“Bring it.”
“Should I leave?” Sofia asks, but Amelia’s hand comes down on hers.
“You’re fine,” she asserts before setting me with an aggravated look. “How dare you tell Willy I’m off-limits?”
“You are,” I say simply, leaning on my hands, but I don’t miss the grin that pulls at Sofia’s lips. Being this close, man, I want to touch her. She has a dusting of freckles along her nose and cheeks that I want to trace with my fingers.
Or my tongue.
But my sister, ever so dramatic, lets out a whoosh of breath before throwing her hands up. “I am not! I am a free agent!”
“A free agent? Are you insane? No, you’re not. I saw Drew all over your Instagram. Stop fronting.”
She doesn’t like that, and she widens her eyes. “Not my fault I’m hot. Drew and I are done.”
“Whatever. I thought you liked Moon anyway.”
“I do, but you won’t let me get an in with him.”
“Being a free agent, you can get your own in.”
She glares. “You know I’m shy.”
When Sofia snorts, I shake my head at Amelia. “You are in no way shy.”
“Whatever. Stop telling people I’m off-limits.”
I lean on my hand. “Stop telling your friend bad shit about me.”
Sofia’s eyes widen, and Amelia glares at me but with confusion in her eyes. “Huh? Who are you talking about?”
“Sofia. You told her I don’t do relationships.”
Sofia starts to get up. “I’m gonna go get a—”
“Stay,” Amelia demands as I say, “You’re fine.”
Exasperatedly, Amelia says, “You don’t do relationships.”
