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And stuck out my tongue at her, for good measure.
Who said twenty-five-year-olds had to act dignified?
Not me.
~ ~ ~
In what may or may not have been the very best decision of my life (the jury was still out), at eight forty-five the next morning Matthew Harper came strolling into the lobby of the building, carrying what very suspiciously looked like a to-go container and two coffee cups. I raised my eyebrows at him as I stood in the middle of the room, clipboard in hand and ready to usher my 50-some-odd residents onto the bus we had rented.
“Hey.” Matthew smiled at me as he approached. I handed the clipboard to one of my RAs and gave him my full attention.
“Hi. You’re early.”
“Well, someone said I couldn’t be late, so…” he winked. And then he held out the container and the coffee cup. “I brought you breakfast. I figured you probably didn’t have time to eat.”
“You’d be right.” I laughed. I took the box from him and then smiled as I looked inside. It was one of the cinnamon rolls from the cafeteria, covered in icing. “Thank you.”
“You’re always eating sweets, so I figured you’d like it,” he mumbled. “And one caramel mocha.” He placed the cup in my hands.
I raised an eyebrow. How had he known my coffee order?
“I pay attention,” he said, defensively.
“Come on then, you,” I said with a grin as I held the warm cup up to my face to take a sip. “Let’s get on the bus.”
After careful maneuvering, only one girl forgetting her phone in her room, and only missing three students (which could probably be attributed to oversleeping, too much homework, or deciding not to come at the last minute), we were finally on the road.
Hazel and I normally sat in the very front when we took our residents on little outings like this, but the seats next to us usually housed our bags. Today, the seat next to mine was very full—of one very tall blonde man, who was currently watching me as I drank my coffee.
“What?” I asked, looking up at him. Most of the girls on the bus were either talking to their seatmates or listening to music—including Hazel across from us—so I didn’t have to worry too much about someone listening to what we were talking about.
“Nothing. I just like the way you did your hair today.” Matthew smiled, and then he reached over and tugged on a strand of hair in my ponytail.
“Oh. Thank you,” I said. I had done a little half-up, half-down hairdo, partially because I knew we’d be outside most of the day and I wanted to keep it out of my eyes, but also because I wanted to do something cute since I knew I’d be seeing him. And if I had also done my makeup and worn something a little nicer than what I normally would have worn to something like this, well, that was between me and myself.
“You know,” I mused, “it almost seems unfair.”
“What?”
“That you know my coffee order, but I don’t know yours.” I frowned. He just chuckled. “What. Don’t tell me—you just drink boring old black coffee?”
Matthew laughed. “Sorry to disappoint, Noelle.”
“Oh, come on. Not even milk? Or sugar?” I looked at him in disbelief, shaking my head. “Of course not, because you don’t like sweets, so why would you put sugar in your coffee?” I mumbled aloud.
He chuckled, taking another sip of his drink.
I narrowed my eyes. “I just don’t get what you have against cake.”
“Noelle, did I ever say I was against cake?” I shook my head. Matthew had that smirk on his face again, like he was enjoying this. “I do like cake. I just don’t eat it regularly.”
“Oh.”
“But I like watching you eat sweets.” He mumbled under his breath, “I think it’s cute.” Just quiet enough that I almost couldn’t hear him—but I did.
“What’s that?” I beamed. Why did his compliment, calling me cute, send a rush down my body?
“Nothing,” he grumbled, turning his head towards the front of the bus.
