Page 15 of Riding the Pine

There’s a long to-go line, but the café’s pretty empty, there are two guys at a table staring at a hot blonde sitting in the corner reading a book with a half-naked guy on the cover. One of them hands the other a crisp ten-dollar bill and from the snide looks on their faces I’d say they’re about to be assholes.

I smile at the barista. “Thank you. Keep the change.”

“You sure?” She scrunches up her face as she looks at the bill in her hand.

I nod.

Her face lights up. “Taryn.”

“Athena.”

“Freshman?”

I nod again, wondering what gave me away.

“I haven’t seen you here before.” She explains like she’s trying to settle my nerves that I’ve got some kind of neon sign over my head saying I’m new here, and this is my first day.

Something about the two guys eyeing the girl like she’s a piece of fresh meat is sitting weirdly in my stomach.

Taryn jerks her chin at the guys I’m staring at. “Sharks. You might want to warn your friend that she’s in their crosshairs.”

“What’s she drinking?”

“Ruth Bader-Brewsburg.”

When my eyes dart to the menu board above her head, she takes pity on my confusion. “Dark chocolate mocha.”

“Can you add one to my order please?”

There’s a knowing glint in her eye as she smiles. “Sure thing, I’ll bring it over. Take a seat.”

As I turn to move, so does one of the sharks. He saunters up to my not-yet-a-friend’s table and waits for her to drag her gaze away from the pages of her book.

His slimy hand that’s just pocketed his buddy’s Jackson shoots out next to her face as he turns on the charm. I’ve got to hand it to him, he’s smooth and clearly has the moves, but I’m somehow more convinced than ever that his motives aren’t pure.

She eyes him with cautious wariness like she’s not sure of his intentions either. Do guys just walk up to women in coffee shops to hit on them? I have no idea, but it’s what I’m about to do. I’d like to think all things being equal she’ll favor me over Mr. Too much hair gel and an entire bottle of cologne.

“Order’s in.” I drop my satchel on the floor and slide into the seat facing her. “Oh, did you pick up a friend while I was ordering drinks?” I smirk at him, a saccharine smile that says don’t mess with me, or mess with my girl.

Unfortunately for me, his friend—the one who handed Captain Cool Waters here, took my entering the chat as an invitation to make this little trio a quartet.

Over my dead body, asshole.

“Can we buy you ladies a drink?”

I hold my smile. “Thanks, but we’re good. We have refills on the way.” I gesture to my now super confused looking about-to-be friend’s almost empty mug.

I try to telepathically convey my concerns—backed up by Taryn’s calling them sharks—to the gorgeous blonde sitting across from me. If she is bi or gay I’m absolutely shooting my shot with this chick, her blue eyes are stunning.

Her cheeks fill with an adorable red blush as she watches me watching her.

“I said we’re good.” My voice is harder, my smile faltering, and if these assholes don’t back up and give us some space, I’m about to cause a fucking scene and get kicked all-the-way out of my new favorite coffee shop.

I can’t go to jail on my first day of college, so I swallow down the bubbling at the back of my throat, the angry feministrampage just waiting to burst forth and singe these fuckers where they stand.

“Aw. C’mon, you don’t mean that.” Asshole one grabs a chair and drags it up next to Blondie. He elbows her. “We can hang out, right?” He leans over toward her in a seemingly innocent move, but he leers down the V-neck of her shirt, and she shudders, likevisibly. “We can be friends?” Something about the way he leans into the word friends makes my skin crawl. Is there anyone who has fallen for their almost creepy double act?

“Like she said, we’re cool, thanks anyway.” Her polite dismissal falls on undeterred faces as Asshole two pulls a chair closer to me.

---