Page 10 of Yours, Unexpectedly

Damn. “He wants to get coffee tomorrow morning.”

Luci squeals again. Riz sighs. “I guess you’re getting coffee with Anders fucking Olsson tomorrow morning.”

“Hey, Baby Bardot. Whatcha reading?” I plop down on the couch next to Bex and watch a look of horror cross her face as she clutches her kindle to her chest.

“N-nothing,” she stammers.

My head bobs in a nod. “I loved that one.”

I can feel her hesitate, even though I’m not looking directly at her, and then she says, “It’s fan-fiction, actually.”

I pause. “Sexy fan-fiction?”

“NO. No. Um, I have to go.” She jumps up and does just that.

My mind has been mayhem for the last twelve hours, but she walks into the coffee shop and it immediately calms.

I may or may not have texted Bex several times last night.

In a row.

In a very not chill way.

I tried to play it off.

I think I played it off?

Default mode for me tends to be flirty. It puts people at ease, which puts me at ease. But I have always loved flirting with Bex. She gets all flustered, which does wonders for my ego. Her skin is too olive toned to outright blush, but sometimes I get the hint of pink before she buries her face in her curls and it makes my chest ache.

I take a second to watch her—in the most non-creepy way possible—as she walks in, checks her phone, and then begins to scan the shop looking for me. She has that ever present furrow between her brow, like she’s always worried about something. Which I suppose is valid, considering the way seeing her again has stirred up my feelings.

She should be worried.

Because I cannot fathom a world in which I see her multiple times a week and manage to keep my hands to myself, regardless of Gabe’s very explicit warning.

It’s not that I don’t value Gabe’s friendship. He’s become the closest thing I have to a brother. I could argue that he saved my life when he brought me back here.

It’s just that his sister also happens to make me feel entirely too many things. Most of them good. Very good. Too good.

I keep watching her as she looks around, finally making eye contact and heading my way. The thing about Bex is that she’s only gotten more attractive in the years I’ve known her. We first met when she was a shy sixteen year old, reading a book in an oversized chair by her parents’ fireplace. I had come home with Gabe for their traditional Bardot Sunday dinner early in our junior year, and I can remember having such a deep desire to just go sit down next to her, pull her down into my lap, and run my fingers through her chocolate curls as she continued to read. I am four years older, though, so I immediately tried to squash any thoughts of Rebecca Bardot.

It was a futile effort.

She was gorgeous then, but she’s breathtaking now. At twenty two, she has a much more confident demeanor. Her curvy body matches the curves of her curls, and I could spend hours watching her simply move through her day. The freckles across her nose ebb and flow throughout the year, and her olive skin tone never roasts in the sun like the alabaster shade of mine does.

I realize my gaze has perhaps grown too heated when she sits across from me and gives me the cutest damn quizzical look.

“Hi.” I can see the determined set of her shoulders. She’s put on her mask, so I’ll put on mine too. For now.

“Hey, Baby Bardot. Fancy seeing you here.” I slide her coffee cup toward her.

“Is it? Didn’t seem like I had much of a choice after you assaulted me with text messages.” God, she’s so fucking sassy sometimes.

“Well, Gabe found out last night that you’re in my class so I figured we should talk about it.”

A look of resignation passes over her. “Of course Gabriel is involved in this. I mean, I did assume the texts were tequila fueled since it was Margarita Monday.”

I’m confused for a half a second before I realize that she doesn’t know that I’m sober. I’m surprised Gabe never told her but that makes me respect him that much more. And that little tidbit will make what I’m going to do infinitely harder. Because it’s taken a lot of therapy for me to realize I shouldn’t be afraid of what I want. And I want Bex Bardot.

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