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I love both of the books very much, but I don’t think I can read about an attractive grumpy man right now. Poppy sets my tea and croissant down in front of me and I murmur a thank you. I push the book to the side and pull out my phone to scroll through Pinterest. I’m studying a recipe for a chocolate chip coffee cake when movement on the other side of the table draws my attention.
Adrian sits across from me. I blink, quite sure I’m going to wake up back in my bed after a night of fitful sleep, but no. There he sits, as real as ever in an inky black cable knit sweater, with his fingers interlaced on the table like we’re about to discuss stocks. I say nothing, partly because I’m mad at him and partly because I have no idea whattosay.
My eyes meet his and I wish I could say it was easy to hold his gaze, but it’s not. His eyes have always been captivating, truly magnetic in nature, but today the glacial depths hold an intensity that makes my breath catch. If I keep staring I’ll end up breaking and saying something first, trying to let him off the hook. So I avert my eyes, turning my attention to my untouched croissant.
“I’m sorry,” Adrian says, his voice low and gruff. “I shouldn’t have said anything about the dating app. I just care about your safety, Juliette.”
“I know, side effects of your job and all,” I retort, trying not to sound too bitter.
“No–well, yes it is.” He sighs and I look up in time to catch the tortured look on his face before he can smooth it out. “I’m not used to this sort of thing.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t have friends outside of my family. I’m not sure how to go about this and because of that I’ve hurt you in the process.”
My heart aches for him. Friendship is a big step for Adrian, based on how it visibly pains him to say the wordfriend. All of my frustrations dissolve like sugar in hot tea. The fact that he sat down at this booth is probably huge for him. He could have ignored me instead, severing our relationship. So, even if I’m attracted to him, becoming his friend might be what he needs more right now. I’ll just have to tamp down my feelings.
“I’ll teach you,” I blurt out without thinking and his mouth quirks up in the right corner.
“You’ll teach me how to be friends with you?” The humor in his voice lightens the mood.
“Yes,” I say in a resolute tone and sit up straighter. “The first lesson is don’t butt into your friend’s dating life.”
He snorts and I smile.
“Based on my sister’s friendships, I feel like that’s not actually what friends do.”
I laugh, thinking of all the times Caroline has meddled in my love life, even from a distance.
“Well, it’s a rule forourfriendship,” I tell him, shooting him what I hope is a hard look. Judging by the subtle smile he’s wearing, it didn’t work.
“Any other lessons for today, Miss Juliette?” The teasing lilt of his voice catches me off guard and I want to throw this newfound friendship out the window. Then fist my hands in his sweater and pull his mouth down to mine.
I clear my throat and push the wayward thought out the window instead. This is not the time for fantasies. Tonight, when I’m falling asleep, however…
“I’ll have to prepare a lesson plan and get back to you,” I joke, then meet his eyes again. “Thank you for apologizing. And for protecting me last night. I know you said you would have done it for anyone in my position, but I still appreciate it.”
Some unreadable emotion flickers across his expression, but it doesn’t stay long enough for me to dissect it.
“Do you want to move to our booth?”
My heart picks up speed at the thought of anything beingours.
“Don’t you meanmybooth?” I ask in a teasing voice.
“I sat down first, so it’s technically mine. I was just being nice.”
“I didn’t take you for a guy who did things just to be nice,” I sass and his lips quirk up in a half-smile.
“Just move,” he says, and I laugh.
We both slide out of the booth and Adrian grabs my book off the table while I pick up the rest of my belongings.
“You finished Gatsby?” he asks, and a bubbly feeling fills my chest at his noticing what I was reading.
“I did,” I say as we slide into my favorite booth. “I’ve read it a bunch of times, but I always find something I didn’t notice before. I planned on going to college for English Literature, actually, but I didn’t end up able to go to college at all.”
It’s only after I finish speaking that I realize I just admitted I didn’t go to college. I rarely tell people, because it brings up a barrage of questions that I hate answering. It’s not exactlysmall talkto share how I left my parents’ house at eighteen in the dead of night with a pickle jar of cash and had to start working right away to survive.
