Page 88 of Riot Rules
Elodie takes Dami’s jealousy in-stride, which is more than I can sayIwould have done.
I do my assignments.
I hang out with the girls.
I do my best to keep busy, and I do not think about Dash.
On Monday, the following week, I’m rushing out ofScreamin’ Beanswith a bagel jammed in my mouth, trying to wrestle my keys out of my pocket, when it happens:
“Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa! Oh my god!”
Someone collides with me, knocking both my cell phone and my coffee out of my hands. I stare into the face of the stranger, wide-eyed, the bagelstilljammed in my mouth, and all I can do is blink. My phone has skidded halfway across the parking lot. My coffee is now a puddle named Lake Robusta at my feet.
The guy who walked right into me is still bent over, his hand comically outstretched, one foot off the ground—a still frame of a man who lunged to try and grab a coffee and a phone and missed both.
He cringes. “God. I’m sorry. That was bad, wasn’t it?”
I remove the bagel from my mouth. “Oh, it’s okay. No big deal. I’ll just—”
I go to grab my phone, but he holds up a hand. “Let me get it.” He flips it over to see if it’s still in one piece. “No cracks. Thank god for that. Uhh,Ineed to grab you another coffee,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I’m all over the place this morning. I shouldn’t—” He laughs, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t even be driving right now. I have assignments due, and I haven’t slept in like…” His eyes go wide. He shakes his head again, laughing nervously.
I realize, with a sudden, alarming clarity, like a light bulb going off over my head, that this guy with the unruly, dark, thick hair, the warm brown eyes, and the faintest five o’clock shadow is hot as hell.
“I’m basically more caffeine than man at this stage,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand. “Hey, what was your order? Seriously. Let me get you another.”
“Oh, it’s okay. Really. It’s not a big deal. I have to get to school, so…”
He looks at me for the first time,reallylooks at me, and his mouth falls open. “Oh, Jesus. You’re really pretty.”
The heat coming off my cheeks could fuel a thermal power plant. “Wow. Guys don’t normally just…come out and say something like that to a girl’s face.”
He raises his eyebrows. “They don’t?” He sounds surprised.
I shake my head no.
“Fuck.” Cringing, he scrubs his face with one hand. When he lowers the hand, he’s kind of a little red himself. “Well. Apologies forthat,” he says awkwardly. “I’m gonna go and get you another coffee. Please wait here. I won’t be a second, I swear.”
“Okay.” I really am going to be late for class if I don’t set off for the academy now, but there’s something so earnest and freaking cute about this guy that I think I’ll mortally wound him if I say no.
He grins the widest smile I’ve ever seen. “Great. Don’t—just—” He holds his hands out. “Just stay.”
I laugh. “Staying. Promise.”
The second he’s inside, I want to bail. The Firebird’s right there, and I’ve never been late for a class before. Never, in my career at Wolf Hall. I don’t want to start now. But I promised. I shouldn’t havepromised.
The morning’s warmer than normal today—no ice on the ground at least—but it’s still brisk enough for me to shuffle from one foot to the other, trying to keep warm while I wait for this mystery clutz to come back. I eat my bagel in record time, just to get rid of the damn thing. The guy’s longer than he said he’d be. It’s nearly ten minutes before he comes hurrying out of the café with four takeaway coffee cups balanced precariously in his hands.
He looks a little bashful as he approaches. “So, I forgot to ask what you had again. I’ve got a double shot Cappuccino here. A latte. Some pumpkin spiced…foamy…I don’t know. Some girls like that shit. And uh…I think this is actually a tea of some kind. Hot tea with honey and lemon.”
He's so scattered and all over the place that I feel bad for him. His eyes, very close to mine in color now that I’m looking at them, are bright and sharp. “I’ll take the Cappuccino,” I tell him, smiling. I manage to take it without the remaining drinks ending up on the floor. He sets the other three cups down on the low wall by the café’s entrance and selects the one closest to him.
He takes a sip and winces. “Oh. Ohgod, no. Pumpkin spice is…urgh!” He sticks out his tongue, grabs one of the other cups and drinks from that instead, sighing a breath of relief. “Man, that was fucking disgusting. How can peopledrinkthat?”
I try not to smile too hard. “It’s a very polarizing beverage. I, myself, am a card-carrying member of the ‘Pumpkin Spice is the Work of the Devil’ club.”
“Can I fill out an application? That shit was nasty.” He shudders. “Oh my god. I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Andre, the guy who broke three of your ribs because he wasn’t looking where he was going.”
“Carina. Carrie, actually. Nice to meet you. And don’t worry about the ribs. They’re totally fine.” I check my phone, grimacing when I see the time. It’s almost eight. “I am so sorry, but I really have to go—”
