Page 55 of Moonlight and Mischief
“Something fruity or something creamy and spicy?”
“Spicy sounds lovely,” I say, unable to resist breathing in his scent. It somehow fits in this coffee shop with the acidic coffee and sugary syrups.
Jasper orders a fancy cold-brew coffee for himself and a hot honey chai latte for me, before pulling me by the hand over to a couple of leather armchairs in the corner.
He strokes the inside of my palm with his thumb while we wait, making my whole arm prickle, until he has to release me to stand to get our drinks.
I accept the warm cup and take a sip. The spices remind me of Jasper. Delicious. I should not be turned on by a chai latte.
“So I know the last school day was kinda rough. But tell me about good days,” he asks, lounging back in his seat.
If I had come into this coffee shop and seen him for the first time, I’d be too intimidated to speak with him. He’s magnificent with early afternoon light hitting his pale hair and highlighting his straight nose and full lips. I’m convinced he is prettier than I am.
“Marigold?” he prompts, and I snap out of it.
“Okay, you want wholesome and cute, or funny?” I ask.
“Funny,” he says, eyes gleaming.
“This happened before you came, so I don’t think you’ve heard the story yet.” Sitting forward in my seat, I drop my voice. “So this one is actually my brother’s fault. Last year, when Cobalt was nine,” I pause, my hand covering my mouth as I try to stay in control long enough to tell the story.
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Okay, when you were like ten or eleven, did you ever go through a phrase where you were drawing…” I choke back a laugh at his confused expression. “Male parts?’
Jasper snorts, shaking his head. “I don’t think so, but I’ve seen kids do that.”
Taking a deep breath, I nod. “So Cobalt was doodling peens on his notebook. Not the stuff he turned in, just the notes I wasn’t supposed to see.” Jasper shakes his head, his lips pressed together to suppress his grin. “Well, of course the other kids got in on it.”
“So what happened?”
“Daisy turned a page in.”
“Oh, no.”
I nod. “I asked her what was drawn on the corner of her math quiz.” I pause, enjoying his eyes going wide. “And she said it was a pickle.”
Another rough laugh escapes him.
“So I had to go through everyone’s notebooks.”
“Of course.”
“And I find a lot of these drawings. But everyone is claiming they’re pickles with eyeballs”
“Naturally.”
“So I sit them down, and ask why they think these are pickles. And Starling looks me dead in the face and says, ‘Because Cobalt drew a stick figure eating one. So they must be pickles.’”
He drops his head, body shaking with laughter. “Seriously?”
“Yes. A stick figuringeating a pickle.”
“Stick figure…” he says between laughs. I nod, reaching out and running my hand down his back as he calms down. “What did you do about your brother?”
Shaking my head, I cross my arms. “Let my dad deal with it. Honestly, it was probably Indie’s fault as much as Cobalt’s.”
“He seems like a trouble-maker when he wants to be,” he says, and I have to agree. I love my brothers, but they are a lot to handle.
