She nods, accepts his credit card, turns her attention to our drinks.
I fill my bottle at the spigot, take a seat at a booth in the back, will the cold water to lower my temperature.
Of course, it doesn't.
He slides into the seat across from me. Watches as the blonde barista fixes drinks. "You're cute jealous."
"I'm not jealous."
"Really?" He raises a brow what bullshit.
"It's just rude of her flirting in front of me. We're together, on a Saturday morning, all sweaty after a workout. It's a girlfriend/boyfriend activity."
"Isn't it more likely we're workout partners?"
The coffee grinder interrupts us. It steals the quiet from the shop.
Most people think quiet is rare in New York City. To a certain extent, that's true. But every neighborhood is quiet sometimes.
And the Financial District is empty all weekend.
My apartment, with its thick walls and its guarded entrance, is quiet all day, every day.
It's not the normal college experience, but I can't complain about having all that space to myself. Even if it comes with strings.
The grind ceases. The barista glances at us. Blushes.
"Still watching her?" he asks.
"No. I just find it curious she assumes we're not together."
"That's not it."
"It's not?"
He nods. "I'm that irresistible." He smiles and the rest of the world disappears. It's only Cam and his effortless charisma.
"Oh my god! That's so obnoxious!"
"Women like obnoxious." He looks to the counter as the barista drops off our drinks. "And I like you jealous."
"I'm not—"
"And denying it too." He smiles. "It's adorable."
God, he really is obnoxious.
And I really do like it.
He smiles, victorious, grabs the drinks, returns with an even more obnoxious smile.
My stomach flutters. He's so handsome. I want to touch him and kiss him and fuck him.
Ahem.
He pours his coffee, holds up his tiny ceramic cup. "To your envy."
"Do you toast at every opportunity?"
"I do."
"It's a lot more fun when you toast to Ty thinking with his cock."
"He's not here."
That's true. "I'm not jealous."
"Okay, to you lying to yourself."
"To me kicking your ass."
"You barely won."
"Barely winning is still winning." I hold up my mug.
He taps his against mine, then he brings it to his lips, groans over his dark roast.
Mmm, that's a beautiful groan. I need it louder and lower and a hell of a lot more.
I try to focus on my drink. Sure, a spiced mocha lacks the sophistication of a plain French press, but it's sugar, spice, chocolate, and coffee. If that isn't heaven, what is?
I take a long sip. Let out a low, deep moan.
He notices. He even watches carefully, but he doesn't say anything. Just sips his black coffee. Like he's so cool and deep and adult ordering a black coffee.
The barista interrupts with our toasts.
Cam motions I've got it, moves to the counter, smiles at the blonde.
She flirts openly. Places her hand on his bare forearm. Giggles at something he says.
Blushes.
Ugh.
Gross.
Then she looks at me the way she was looking at Cam, like she's deciding if she wants to fuck me.
She looks back to Cam. Nods tentatively. Grabs a receipt paper and a pen and writes her number.
Huh?
He returns to the table.
"What was that?" I ask.
"I explained the situation."
"What situation is that?"
"It was rude of her flirting in front of you if she wasn't willing to join the two of us."
"What?"
"You don't think?"
Wait, did he—
No.
He wouldn't.
No, he would. Of course he would.
My eyes meet his. I raise a brow.
He nods of course.
"You invited her to a threesome?"
"No. It was her idea," he says.
"And you accepted."
"I told her we could all get a drink. Talk about it later," he says.
Oh my god.
"You don't think?" He looks to the barista.
This time, she looks at me, blushes.
"She's not your type?"
"No."
"You don't like blondes?"
"That's it. The hair color. Not that I don't like women."
"I don't want to assume," he says.
"How progressive of you."
He laughs, enjoying this. Enjoying my blush and my nerves. "That's too bad. I would have liked to watch the two of you." He sips his black coffee, completely nonchalant.
"Would Ty approve?"
"He asked me to keep you entertained."
"That would be entertaining," I say.
"Exactly." He struggles to hold a poker face. Breaks with a laugh.
"He would kill you."
"Probably. But only if he found out."
I take my toast. Break it in half. "He'd find out."
"Who would tell him?"
"I don't know. But he always finds out."
"Would you tell him?"
"No. But if he asked, I'm not sure I'd be able to hide it." I take a bite. Savor the salty almond butter, the sweet, soft banana, the perfectly toasted bread. Mmm. What's better than carbs and coffee?
"You really want your brother-in-law to know your sex life?"
"No. But apparently it's of interest to him." I motion to Cam. "Since he sent you to babysit me."
"He's worried about you."
"About me… fucking some guy? He does realize I'm a college student."
"About you feeling left out," Cam says. "With the wedding keeping your sister busy."
Oh.
"Marriage changes things."
Yeah. Not going there. I'd rather talk about him fucking blondie.
How would he do it? Would he bend her over the counter, drag her to the bathroom, lay her on this table?
What if it was us, and she was watching, and we were—
"I told him it's ridiculous," he says. "But I couldn't turn down the chance to spend two weeks with the most difficult woman in New York."
"The city or the state?"
"The entire US, I think."
"Thanks."
He dives into his toast. "This is insanely sweet."
"What did you expect me to order?"
He laughs fair enough.
"So… you're just hanging out with me?" I ask. "Not trying to cock block me."
"I don't play wingman," he says.
"That's it? Not that Ty wouldn't allow it?"
"I don't care what Ty would allow." He tries to sell it, but he doesn't really get there.
"Really? So we can go back to my place? You can get me off in the shower."
His pupils dilate. "No, Sienna. I can't."
"Because Ty would kill you?"