by Amy Daws
Copyright © 2015 Amy Daws
All rights reserved.
Published by Stars Hollow Publishing
ISBN 9780990325277
Editing by Heather Banta www.linkedin.com/in/heatherbanta
Cover design by Amy Daws
Cover photography by Megan Daws
Author Photograph by Megan Daws
Cover models Rachel Lausen and Eric McLaughlin
This book is licensed for personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please go to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Many K-State references have been invented to avoid mentioning local businesses. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Dedicated to my friends and family
for supporting me on this writing endeavor.
I couldn’t do this without you.
CHAPTER ONE
Before starting college, I’d never considered myself much of a coffee drinker. It tasted like cigarette butts to me and burned my mouth. Ick. Why did people like that stuff? If I ever needed a kick-start, I’d grab a soda. That actually had a good taste.
My first year at K-State, that all changed. Coffee became my savior. I had no idea coffee’s caffeine was so much stronger than soda’s. And holy crap, school is hard. Managing classes, complete and utter freedom away from parents, and a budding new social life have proven to be more than I can handle. I quickly realized coffee was the only thing that gets me through tests, papers, midterms, finals, last minute cramming—you name it. Coffee is now a vital necessity of my day-to-day life.
I still remember ordering my first cup at the University Plaza dining center. I was a green-behind-the-gills freshman and had no clue what I was doing. I just knew that the shower I took that morning physically hurt my skin and I needed something—anything—to get through the day. I had a huge slug of classes and a raging hangover. I needed to find the will to live.
I walked up to the counter and repeated something I’d heard my dad say when he ordered coffee: “Black.” I had no idea what it meant, but sure enough, the person behind the counter handed me a cup of hot steaming liquid. I must have fooled him.
I don’t especially like the taste of plain black coffee, but I look at it like I look at beer. Beer tastes terrible, and those that try to tell me otherwise are simply lying to themselves. I drink beer for the sole purpose of getting a buzz or getting drunk. Definitely not for the taste.
The familiar ringing sound of the door at Chaz’s resonates in my ears as I enter the convenience store. “Hey Alex,” I say with a small wave, heading over to the huge coffee dispensers next to the fountain pop machines.
“What up, Finley?” he drawls in his southern accent, not even bothering to look up from his cellphone. “SHIT!”
“What?” I ask, stopping suddenly in front of the counter.
“I’m trying to get more power gems. Do you play Bejeweled, Finley?” he asks, pushing his beanie hat back and looking at me seriously.
I smile, “No, sorry, I don’t,” and continue walking toward the coffee.
“Pshh, loser,” he scoffs, hunching back over his phone and turning his back on me.
I look back at him incredulously. “You’re the one swearing over digital jewels at eight in the morning,” I reply, laughing slightly.
I smile to myself at Alex’s accent. There are quite a number of people at K-State from the more southern parts of Missouri and Kansas, and they most definitely have thicker accents, like Alex’s. My hometown of Marshall is almost smack dab in the middle of Missouri, so it’s a tossup whether or not people from my area have an accent. I don’t have the drawl most of my classmates do, but certain words do seem to have a mind of their own on their way out of my mouth.
I push down the tab on the dark-roast blend and begin filling my mug, glancing around as I wait for the cup to fill. It’s the summer before my senior year, so there are not nearly as many students around. I love Manhattan in the summer. Without the entire student population mulling around, it’s quiet and peaceful.
Chaz’s C-Store is only a two-minute walk from where my apartment building sits. My roommate Angela and I are both permanent fixtures here, which is why most of the counter clerks know us by name. I’ve been walking to Chaz’s every morning for over a year now to get my daily cup of coffee. My morning wakeup routine isn’t just the coffee. The refreshing morning walk to get my fix really starts my day off. I need the fresh air to wakeup. I crave it.
The bell of the door sounds again and my heartbeat increases instinctively. I know who it is before even looking. Not wanting to deny my body what it so badly wants, I look up and see one of the most gorgeous men in all existence. Jake LeShae. Jake LeShae, oy—just his name uttered in my head makes me weak in the knees.
Okay, so maybe I don’t just walk to Chaz’s for the coffee.
Jake walks toward me with his familiar saunter I’ve literally had wet dreams about. I never even knew wet dreams were a possibility before I laid eyes on Jake LeShae. He’s a senior like me, and a point guard for K-State’s basketball team. Biggest point guard I’ve ever seen. I played basketball in high school, and never saw a man his size dribble a ball the way he does.
He smiles at me, like he has everyday for the past three weeks. I smooth back my messy brown ponytail and my eyes glance up into his shortly buzzed, nearly black hair. His presence is overwhelming as his height looms over me. I love tall guys. Growing up, I was always the tall girl in class. I spent the majority of my pubescent years towering over all the boys in my small town class—and I hated it. I topped out just under six feet by my sophomore year. And honestly, nothing makes me feel less womanly than dating a guy shorter than me.
Standing next to Jake, I feel every bit the woman I am. He is panty-dropping tall and gorgeous. I bet he towers a good six inches over me.
I stop hands from messing with my ponytail, silently chastising myself for feeling self-conscious. I’m wearing a pair of black running shorts and a neon green racer-back tank. Thankfully, I had the foresight to put on a bra.
This silent game of flirting we’ve been playing for nearly a month now is the epitome of the word bittersweet. Bitter because we don’t speak—sweet because I don’t ever want it to stop.
The first day I ran into him, I counted myself lucky for laying eyes on him. Then for the next four days in a row, we both continually went in to Chaz’s at the same exact time for our morning refreshments. I would have cried stalker if he was anyone else. But he was Jake LeShae: Basketball legend, sex on a stick, and downright offensively good looking. Can I just say his name again for good measure? Jake LeShae. Damn, that feels so good.
He always comes in and purchases a 32-ounce fountain drink—half Sprite, and half Powerade. Not that I’m paying attention or anything. I realized by week two that we were on the same summer schedule. It was way too frequent to be a coincidence. He brings his own cup in, just like I do. The fact we’ve never addressed our commonality is weird and exhilarating. There’s that bittersweet feeling again. Every morning I anxiously wonder if today will be the day one of us speaks to the other. But part of me doesn’t ever want to say anythi
ng to him. I don’t want to ruin this silent and sexy cat and mouse game we’ve got going on.
The ice plops loudly into his thick plastic cup. He glances over at me as I snap the lid down on my coffee. His eyes drift down my body and squint ever so slightly. I feel myself squirm under his perusal. I bite my lip, feeling frustrated at myself for drinking black coffee—if I used cream and sugar, I’d have an excuse to stand here longer, breathing in his fresh shower scent. God, he smells so good.
He smiles at me and I smile back—like we always do. Every. Single. Day.
“Hey,” Jake says, looking at me speculatively.
Holy shit! He just spoke to me!
“Hey,” I reply, trying to stop my voice from squealing with excitement. I really need to calm the flutters screaming inside my abdomen right now. Keep cool, Finley. Keep cool.
“I’ve seen you in your window,” he says, and quickly scowls and shakes his head. I see a red coloring creep up his olive skinned neck. “I mean, my window looks into your window.” He frowns again, even further, and sets his cup down deliberately. “Jesus, I’m sorry. This is coming out so creepy.” He looks at me apologetically.
“What are you saying?” I look at him in wide-eyed wonder. If any other person was saying this stuff, I would either be running for the hills or screaming in their face for being a disgusting pig. But this is Jake LaShae.
“You live at Wildwood, right?” he asks, composing himself.
“Yeah!” I reply, way too brightly.
“I just moved there at the beginning of summer. I’m Jake.” His expression says he’s assuming I know who he is.
“I know who you are,” I blurt, before thinking. Jesus, Finley. You could have at least played it cool and acted like you didn’t know him.
He smiles cockily at me.
“So, what about my window?” I ask.
“Oh, um,” he says, and grasps his cup and snaps the lid in place. “I think my apartment is directly across the parking lot from yours. I’ve seen you in your window before. Not naked or anything!” he finishes, looking nervous again.
“Thank God,” I reply, not knowing how to respond to that. He looks down toward my chest, briefly, but then back up at my face. “So, um, Sprite and Powerade, huh?” I bite my lip again, feeling so incredibly lame. I’m biting so hard I’ve picked an area of skin completely raw. But I can’t help it. I’m desperate to keep talking to him and I need to change the subject from creepy window-peeping.
He shrugs and says, “Yeah, it’s my coffee.” He gestures his cup toward mine.
“Cool,” I reply, tipping my cup toward him in response.
Cool? God, this is ridiculous. I’m better than this!
“Campus is pretty dead in the summer, huh?” he suggests.
“Yeah, peaceful. I sort of love it,” I start to take a sip of my coffee, but stop suddenly, realizing I’ll burn my mouth if I take a drink right now. There is nothing I hate worse than swollen taste buds. Okay, there probably are things I hate worse. Like Ebola. That would definitely be worse.
“I’ve never been this close to campus during the summer before. I always go back home and live with my parents.”
“That’s cool.” If I don’t stop saying cool right this damn second I’m going to punch myself in the face.
“I’ve been seeing you here almost every morning for a while now, so I thought it was time I said hey.”
“Huh,” I reply, and laugh awkwardly.
“I didn’t catch your name,” he says, leaning down slightly, like he’s trying to hear me. I catch a whiff of strong, manly-scented cologne.
“Fin…ley. Finley, or Fin…either’s fine.”
“Finley. Cool name. So, what are you doing this summer that has you coming to the gas station every day?” he asks, shoving a straw into his cup.
“I work in one of the IT offices on campus. It’s open year round for faculty and summer students. It’s just a computer lab, pretty much.”
“That’s cool. I’m doing an internship at a sports chiropractic clinic.”
“Sweet, are you studying to be a chiropractor?”
“No. My major is sports management, but I still have two more years of school left. I red-shirted as a freshman. I play basketball.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen you at a few games.”
“Cool, you go to a lot of games?” he asks with a small hint of arrogance.
“Um, yeah, well…no. Not really I guess. I went to one, once last year,” I stammer, and set my coffee down to adjust my ponytail nervously. “See, I’m not much of a sports or fitness person, per se. I played basketball in high school but was terrible. I rode the bench a lot. The only bit of exercise I ever get is my morning walk here every day. Unless you count dancing at the bar.”
He nods thoughtfully, so I continue. “So yeah, my roommate says I waste so much money getting coffee here every day, but the way I see it is that it’s cheaper than a gym membership, so…” I trail off and he looks down, evidently deep in thought. “Anywho, I only went to that one game because they were giving out free t-shirts to anyone that sat in the student section,” I pause. “Yaaay,” I finish dumbly, balling my hand into a fist and pumping it above my head in semblance of a cheer.
Jake laughs, revealing stunning white and perfect teeth. The corners of his lips turn down as he attempts to compose himself.
“You’re funny, huh?”
I shrug.
“But not much of a sports person,” he adds. “What do you like?”
“Oh, you know, the usual things: parties, social gatherings, reading, and watching movies.”
“What kind of movies? Chick flicks?” he asks, heading over to the counter.
I follow behind him. “No! I love comedies mostly. I mean, I don’t hate the chick flicks. I am female after all.” I set my mug down in front of Alex, who looks at me with a slight glare that confounds me.
“That’s cool. We should hang sometime. Campus is so dead right now and my roommate isn’t here this summer, so I’m bored out of my mind over there.” Jake hands over some cash and Alex gives him his change.
“Um, sure! Sounds good! Do you…”
“I know where you live, I’ll stop by sometime,” he says, casually walking backwards toward the exit. “Catch ya later, Finley,” he says, pulling on his straw as he exits.
Damn, he looked so cool doing that. I scrunch my eyebrows trying to decipher what just happened. I look up and see Alex still glaring at me.
“What the hell, Alex?”
“It’s just lame,” he says, with a sneer.
“What’s lame?” I ask, my voice rising in pitch.
“That you don’t play Bejeweled. ‘Cause it’s awesome. You should see me play the lightning level one time. Or play in poker mode. It’s magical. I guarantee you’d be hooked.”
“Um, I think I’m good,” I reply flatly. Man, this guy is really serious about his games.
“You’ll never be good without Bejeweled in your life, Finley,” he says, speaking my name more forcibly than necessary as he hands me my change.
I tuck it into my pocket and step away from the counter.
“You need to get a better hobby, Alex. That digital game is frying your brain.”
“Your brain…is ruined…without…jewels!” he sneers, shaking his head.
I make a hasty exit. Jesus. I think I might go de-friend Alex on Facebook. That just got really weird!
I gingerly sip my coffee and mull over the conversation I just had with Jake. Was that a date he asked me on? Or just a friends thing? Did he seem flirty when we were chatting? Maybe he’s just bored and being nice? He did mention not having any roommates or friends around this summer, so that’s probably all. He just needs someone to kill time with. I better not read too much into this. It’s probably nothing. It’s probably not even going to happen.
***
CHAPTER TWO
“ANGELA!” I shout, animatedly bounding into our apartment. “Jake LeShae was at Chaz’
s again and he finally spoke to me! He basically told me he wants to marry me and take me on a surprise honeymoon, but he won’t tell me where. He’ll actually have to pack my suitcase because he refuses to even tell me what the weather will be like because he just loves surprising me that much. Can you believe it?” I finish, dramatically throwing my arms up into the air.
“What the hell is happening right now?” Angela asks behind the foggy glass shower door as I sit on the toilet lid and take a drink of my coffee.
Cringing at the slight burn, I reply, “Yeah! He spoke to me…finally!”
She cracks the shower door open and aggressively bats soap out of her eyes. “Repeat all that you said before because I couldn’t even comprehend it.”
“You mean, the part where he’s going to plan our honeymoon and pack my bag for me because he refuses to tell me where we’re going, and just loooooves surprising me?”
“Nope. Got it now. You’re an idiot.” She closes the shower door and I sigh in response.
“I said basically,” I mumble into my coffee cup.
“Does basically mean he actually spoke to you, or is this all made up?”
“No! He really did speak to me!” I retort, pulling my legs up to my chest.
“Cool! What did he say? For real this time.”
“He said we should watch a movie or something sometime.”
“Like a date?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I can’t decide. Probably not. But what if it is? How cool would that be? I’ve been pining over Jake ever since I saw him play that one time.”
“Not pining enough to go to any more games, apparently,” she murmurs softly.
“I heard that! Don’t act like you like sports either!”
“I do like sports!” she screeches.
“You do not! You just pretend because Luke likes to go to games.” Luke is Angela’s latest and greatest. Angela has a tendency to date the biggest douches. Luke is no exception.
“Oh screw you, Finley! You don’t know that for sure. I actually really like sports. You don’t know everything about me!”
