Page 21 of Just Joshing
I pulled my phone out, glancing at my reminders. "I have a few free hours. You?"
"I'm meant to be writing a script." He placed a hand on my back, guiding me out the door. The warmth of his hand settled in, sending pleasant shivers up my spine. "Let's get a coffee."
"You just want a snack," I laughed.
"Guilty." We paused in the reception area. "So, coffee?"
I hesitated. Josh and I didn't do this. There'd always been another person beside us – Sam, Peter, our parents. We didn't have a standalone relationship – we were like planets, circling each other as we revolved around our one fixed point.
"Sure, let's do it."
Chapter Four
Josh
Molly led me to a coffee shop down the street from the center. My fingers itched to find a camera as we walked past hipsters, homeless and hapless mothers all being dodged by professionals in suits, bejeweled men, and primping women in clucking clusters.
I'd been away from home for too long. I'd forgotten how in New York, wealth and poverty collided under a banner of simmering ethno-tensions and racial disparity.
"Is here okay?" Molly asked, tucking a thick chunk of her deep chestnut hair behind her ear. She'd cut it a few years back; it now brushed just below her shoulders. I'd become abnormally obsessed with watching the strands tease her shoulders. Especially in summer. I liked to imagine brushing it back, replacing the gentle caress against her skin with my lips.
"Josh?"
I gave myself a mental shake, looking up at the glass fronted store. Painted letters swirled across the glass while inside I could see wood, low lighting and aged metal. I glanced at Molly, raising an eyebrow in question.
She smirked, lifting one shoulder in reply. "They're pretty good."
We entered, the strong bitter smell of the roasted beans mixed with vanilla and chocolate. Sounds of grinding and the soft murmur of voices drifted over the acoustic music which played in the background.
Molly made for a small booth tucked in the back. I followed, fighting to keep my eyes off her legs. There were two freckles on the back of her left leg, just under the bend of her knee. I wanted to press my lips to them as I stripped her underwear from her body.
Pull it together, man.
We ordered coffees, awkwardly watching each other from across the booth. I knew this was unchartered territory. But like my pirate ancestors, I was ready to stake my claim and pillage the booty - I mean bounty.
The waitress dropped two mugs of coffee and a brownie on the table before whisking off to serve her next table.
I cupped the mug, letting the heat warm the skin of my palms.
Molly sipped her coffee, making a low sound of pleasure. I tried not to notice.
"What do you normally teach in that class?" I finally asked, picking up my fork to cut the brownie in half.
"Business. I teach them how to assess business decisions, build marketing plans, design project timelines and product launches, recruit. You know, practical things they'll need if they secure a job."
I lifted a fork full of brownie to my mouth, pausing to ask, "are they all employed?"
She shrugged. "Some of them. They're-"
"Jesucristo," I interrupted her, groaning with pleasure. The brownie was rich, moist and deliciously chocolate-y. I swallowed, immediately moving in for another mouthful. "This is the best brownie I've ever tasted."
Molly laughed, deep and throaty. When she laughed the world shone brighter.
Maybe I should write a rom-com?I wondered how Sam would react to that.
"I told you this place was good."
"You said good. Not nirvana."
