“You guys spoil me too much.” She sat back against her chair and crossed her arms. “You’re going to have to let me go soon, Gabe. Both you and Wolf,” she said, using Wes’s nickname. “I can’t live in your protective bubble forever.” She yawned and accidently hit her hand on the wall beside her.
“Aw, little Lamb,” I teased, using Wes’s nickname for her. “Get a boo-boo?”
“Shut it.”
“I’ll just go get your coffee.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You do that, Turtle.”
If she was a dude, I would have flipped her off. Instead, I laughed and walked away.
I’d been making fun of her and Wes’s nicknames for each other — Lamb and Wolf — and in return had been gifted with one of my own, on account of my idiot cousin, Lisa, deciding to tell them the story about how I’d had a pet turtle when I was little and had cried when it died.
But come on! That turtle was bad ass! I had a freaking funeral for the little guy — I full on wept.
Not a proud moment.
“The usual?” I called back.
She folded her hands in front of her like she was praying and shouted, “Please!”
With a smile I turned around and went to stand in line — trying to look casual, easy-going, normal. Ha! Funny how I used to actually practice being normal.
I’d looked in the mirror and had to tell myself to visibly relax my lips, shoulders, muscles. I had to own the look because things had been crazy for so long — and apparently I had a certain way of walking that made people recognize me. Who knew, right? At any rate, I was a bad ass ninja master of disguise, and it wasn’t just my life that depended on it, but hers as well.
Maybe it was my graduation — but ever since the start of this last semester I’d felt edgy — irritated, as if I was some sorry ass sitting outside waiting for a storm cloud. I had no reason to feel that way — I just did, and honestly? It freaked me out a bit. I hoped it was just a side effect of not sleeping around with every single girl on campus. Maybe that was what not having sex did to guys… made them paranoid and jumpy as hell.
“What can I get you?” The barista asked, her demeanor cool, aloof.
I leaned forward and smiled brightly. “That depends, what are you offering?”
“Damn.” She snapped her fingers. “You confused? The sex shop is just down the street.” With a wink, she leaned forward and whispered, “We serve coffee here.”
“How…” I licked my lips slowly, falling easily back into old habits. “…embarrassing.” My heart started to race as I greedily scanned her tight little body, just barely hidden by the green apron. It was my game — the only thing I had going for me. The only thing that numbed me to my past — to everything. Don’t feel sorry for me. I loved every damn minute of it — because it was one more minute I wasn’t thinking about the past.
The past, the past, the past. Ah, there it was, the reason I kept it in my pants now. My promise to Wes, and worse — my promise to myself. She wouldn’t want me to be this way — I was torn between feeling guilty about how I acted and also feeling relieved that at least there was still something that choked the sadness away from my existence.
“It happens,” she replied breathlessly, her eyes widening as she took in my body. I was used to it. I lived for it. I survived on it.
And then, she flipped her hair.
A whiff of perfume hit me square in the face, shaking off any sort of lust I had going for me.
Shit. It was the same perfume.
Shaking, I jerked back forcing a weak laugh. “Anyways, um, can we just have two large caramel lattes? Triple shot and put extra whipped cream on one of them.”
“Oh.” The girl’s face went completely red as she typed in the order and shook her head. “Is that all?”
Her voice was pitifully hopeful.
But I’d already made up my mind.
Or maybe it was my body that was made up first, then my mind. Either way, I felt like puking, like running outside and not stopping until I was either in the music room or on my Harley.
“Yup.” I handed her my credit card, my fingers tensing around the sharp edges of the plastic. “That’s all.”
She swiped, handed it back, muttered ass**le under her breath, and I walked around to wait for the cups and make sure she didn’t spit in anything before our coffee made it into my hands.
Within minutes I had our coffee and was already sitting back at the table.
“So…” Kiersten took a slow sip. “How’s life?”
I rolled my eyes. “Can we not do this?”
“Do what?” She shrugged innocently.
“The whole you ask me how I’m doing over and over again and just pray I’ll crack or worse yet, start crying and spouting out all my dirty—” I leaned in. “Little.” I leaned in a bit more “Secrets.”
“Your sex eyes don’t work on me,” Kiersten said, her voice sounding bored as hell.
I shrugged helplessly and took a long sip of coffee. “Worth a shot.”
“Worth getting shot?” Kiersten corrected. “Because that’s what would happen. Wes would shoot you.”
“Wes hates violence,” I defended.
“No, he doesn’t hate it.” Kiersten laughed and looked to the door. “Oh my gosh… is that her?”
“Her who?” Kiersten knew I didn’t do names — I rarely recognized the girls I slept with unless they walked up to me with their shirts lifted over their heads. Okay fine, so it wasn’t that bad, but pretty damn close. I swear it was easier to tell people apart that way.