by Sara Ney
Nectar? Oh, brother, listen to me.
I add a shot of sugar-free vanilla, pour the espresso into the tiny to-go cup, pop the plastic lid on, and slide the beverage across the counter at my waiting customer with a smile.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“Nope!” She tosses her hair over her shoulder and a few pennies into the tip jar, giving me a backwards wave, and pushes her way out the front door.
I reach behind me and pull back on the ribbon securing my green apron, tighten it so it’s not quite so loose, and begin wiping down the hard granite counter where we keep the flavor syrups.
As I’m adjusting the nozzle on the sanitizer spray bottle so it comes out in a steady stream, Rebecca scoots by me, giving me a sharp shove in the hip.
“What the hell, Becca?”
“Meathead, twelve o’clock,” she mutters, rushing to the cash register. I hear her brightly call out, “Hi there! What can we make for you today!”
Wow, she sounds uncharacteristically cheerful.
Shaking my head with a chuckle, I begin spraying the sanitizer around the basin of the steel prep sink, but a deep baritone response from the other side of the cash counter has me stopping in my tracks.
“Grey working?”
I spin on my heel, tossing the rag in my hand to the backsplash. “Cal!” I take a few surprised steps forward. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been doing a shit ton of studying today and needed a break. Grab some caffeine,” he says, causally stuffing his hands in the pockets of low-slung sweat pants, then looking up at the menu board on the wall. “Anything good here?”
Delighted, I cannot contain my enthusiasm. “You’re an hour away! Are you crazy?”
I’m positively giddy.
Cal looks embarrassed, his cheeks taking on a pinkish hue.
“Didn’t we already establish we both have a touch of the crazy?”
A bubble of laughter escapes my lips. “Good point.”
Beside me, Rebecca clears her throat loudly. “Uh hem.”
“Oh! Sorry, Becca. Cal, this is my co-worker Rebecca. She is required to put up with my atrocious barista skills. Becca, this is Cal, my friend. He goes to SMU.”
“Cal? The Cal? Boyfriend Cal?”
Oh, crap, that’s right. I give Becca an amused look. “You follow me on Twitter?”
“Uh, everyone follows you on Twitter,” she snickers.
This is news to me. “Well, Becca, this is Cal.”
“In the flesh,” Cal adds gamely, giving her a cocky grin.
“Phew, is it hot in here?” Rebecca blushes down into her black collared shirt. “Okay, well. Since we have no other customers, why don’t you go take a break? If it gets swamped—” she rolls her eyes “—I’ll shout for you.”
Have I mentioned lately how much I freaking love, love, love Rebecca?
“Do you want to go sit for a bit?” I ask Cal. He gives a jerky nod. "Can I make something for you quick?"
“Um… how about a trenta green tea lemonade.”
“Coming right—”
“—Actually, Grey, I got it,” Becca says, cutting me off with a wink. “Go. Sit. The lull isn’t going to last forever.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice.
Calvin
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I can’t either,” I deadpan. “I got in my truck to grab a coffee and kept driving until I ended up here.”
“Just like that, huh?” Greyson is beaming at me, a megawatt smile so blinding it’s like gazing at the sun, and I can hardly stand to look at her.
“Um, don’t read too much into it,” I force myself to say.
“Mmm hmm, okay.” She’s leaning back now in the stiff wooden chair, her shoe dangling from the foot crossed over her leg. She tilts her head to one side as she studies me, and her long, blonde ponytail—a stark contrast against her black shirt—cascades over her shoulder. “I won’t. You just got in your car and drove. For an hour.” Grey bats her eyelashes at me.
I blink then look away.
“Stop it,” I finally say as Becca walks over, setting a large green tea lemonade on the table in front of me. She doesn’t say anything, but I see her mouth Oh my God to Greyson before turning and hustling back to the counter.
“I must say, Calvin, if you’re trying to dispel the rumors that I have a boyfriend, you’re doing a terrible job by showing up here.”
“I think you fueled the rumors yourself after that match last week.”
“Alright, fair enough. But I wouldn’t do anything differently because that kiss was… phew!” She props her elbow on the table, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. “My toes are still tingling.”
I ignore her blissful sigh and clear my throat.
“I told you, I came here for a coffee.”
Her hazel eyes zero in on my green tea lemonade, and she arches a perfect eyebrow.
“Fine, sexy barista, if you really must know, I don’t drink coffee.”
Greyson’s eyes soften around the edges as she watches me fiddle with my straw. “Your bruises are fading,” she remarks.
“Yeah, I know. It sucks, too. No one messes with me when I have double shiners.”
Grey sits up and reaches across the table, wiggling her fingers in my direction. “Let me have your arm.”
I lay a tan arm on the table. She rolls her eyes.
“Not that one. Your other arm.”
Biting back a grin, I rest my tatted arm on the tabletop and sit back, watching as she leans forward, intently studying the sleeve on my right arm.
A dozen intricate, bright designs are interwoven on my skin, and she memorizes every single one. I can see the interest in her eyes, the questions. But unlike other girls, she doesn’t ask. Her fingers curiously roam over the American eagle tattooed in honor of my grandfather’s many years of military service that eventually took his life, the lotus flower tattooed in honor of my mother’s winning battle with cancer, and the Celtic cross in honor of my Scottish heritage.
I sit, ramrod straight, learning every expression as it crosses her face.
She glances up at me then, her finger continuing to trail along the sensitive skin on my arm, and there’s a fire in her eyes that damn near takes my breath away.
No way is she looking at me like that.
Greyson
We sit for twenty minutes before Becca comes to get me, talking and teasing and flirting. Well, I flirted; he complained about it.
“Let me walk you out,” I say, stalling for more time with him.
I start untying the green apron strings around my waist, but Cal stops me.
“Leave the apron. It’s cute.”
I preen with pleasure as he pushes through the glass door of the coffee shop and holds it open for me, giving me an opportunity to train my eyes on that gloriously tattooed bicep beneath his shirtsleeve as I pass in front of him.
His red truck is parked out front, but instead of walking to it, I lead him to a partition under the overhang, conveniently located in the shadows of the strip mall.
I lean against the brick wall, facing him, and cut to the chase. “Tell me the real reason you’re here.”
He moves into the dark recesses of the building, propping a hand against the partition next to my face, the dim lighting hardening the angles of his face, slashing it in half by shadows. A band of light cuts across his eyes, and they burn bright blue. “I told you. I wanted a study break.”
“Okay…”
His face might be cloaked in darkness, but even so, I can tell his eyes are dancing. “Okay what?”
I wish he’d cut the crap. “So, you’re here because you were thirsty. And what else?”
He’s quiet, watchful, when a dark SUV pulls up with tinted windows. For a few seconds, as it idles, his stance hardens and he moves to stand in front of me protectively. He relaxes when the engine cuts off and a young couple steps down, heading towards the coffee shop.
&nbs
p; Finally, in a low murmur, his voice resonates close to my ear in a husky drawl. “You know why I’m here.”
“Yes,” I agree quietly with a shiver. “But I want to hear you say it.”
Cal groans miserably.
“Why won’t you just admit you drove all the way here to see me?” I ask gently.
“If you already know the answer, why are you trying to make me say it?”
“Because I’m a girl, and that’s what we do.” My head tips back against the brick wall, and I watch him from under my long lashes. “Hurry up and spit it out. I have coffee to brew.”
Minutes on the clock tick by.
“You’re a brat.”
I push off the building and straighten to my full height as I start towards the door, throwing in a theatrical eye roll to illustrate just how over this conversation I am. “I’m going inside. Thanks for stopping by.”
I know he’s not going to let me go, and two seconds later I’m proven right when my back is pressed flat up against the cold, brick wall.
Greyson 1: Cal 0
Smugly, I let him struggle for the words I crave from him, but this time I don’t goad him into talking, even though I know Becca is going to be pissed when I walk back inside after leaving her alone behind the counter for so long.
“You’re right.” His deep voice whispers next to my ear, and I get chills when he braces those sexy, muscular arms on either side of my face, his breath caressing my cheek. “I drove an hour to see you, and I would have driven three.”
God, that is so sexy and romantic.
“Say that again.”
He pauses before his palms slide down my shoulders, and his large hands span my waist. “I drove an hour to see you,” he repeats, his full lips grazing the soft spot behind my ear. “And I would have driven three.”
Oh yeah.
My head tilts to the side, my eyes flutter shut, and I almost forget to breath. “Why?”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Cal’s lips drag slowly across my jaw, his abrasive beard stubble sending shocks of pleasure up my spine.
God, I love his facial hair. “Say that again.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you.”
My lips curve up into a sly smile. “Good.”
World around us forgotten, I exaggerate my pucker, inviting him in. I ache with need for him.
We ache with need for each other.
Our lips press together, and for a moment we do nothing but breathe in and out, the same air. The same breath. Cal’s full mouth covers mine, deep and…
Tentatively, our tongues touch. Deliberately. So agonizingly unhurried.
I’m breathless now, my knees shaking.
Painful. Arousing. Exciting.
It’s wet, and delicious, and incredible.
Grey: I still can’t believe you just showed up tonight. I hate to be the one to say it, but… it was really romantic.
Cal: You’re not mad, are you?
Grey: NO! Why on earth would I be?
Cal: Just checking.
Grey: That kiss was… indescribable.
Cal: Yeah, it was pretty incredible.
Grey: I don’t know how I made it back into work, my legs were all wobbly. I could hardly walk straight.
Grey: You showing up was off the charts sexy and romantic—albeit a tad stalker-ish. Totally something I would do if I were one. Which I’m not. But YOU are.
Cal: Stop.
Grey: IF I did have a stalker, I would want it to be you.
Cal: Ditto.
Grey: Soooo… Becca thought you were cute… *avoids eye contact and checks nails*
Cal: What? Cute? Ugh, nooo! Anything but cute! A wise woman once said that CUTE was the “kiss of death” and for grandmas and kittens.
Grey: LOL. I did say that, didn’t I? But it’s true. Because when she said you were cute, I wanted to tackle her to the ground. Haha, kidding.
Cal: Are you trying to tell me it made you jealous?
Grey: What? Me jealous? Pfft.
Grey: Okay, yes. I was jealous.
Cal: Morning sunshine.
Grey: *groans* I can already tell this is going to be a loooong day.
Cal: Why is that?
Grey: It’s only 8:00 in the morning and I’ve already gotten 3 panic texts from one of my sisters.
Cal: Chin up, sweetheart. Text me after your next class, and I’ll cheer you up.
Grey: You do realize you just called me sweetheart….
Cal: I did? Shit, I did.
Cal: Sorry?
Grey: Did you mean it?
Cal: That depends. Did you mind?
Grey: No. I liked it. Loved it actually.
Cal: Then yes. I meant it.
Grey: Awwww *blushes prettily and giggles*
Cal: Has your day gotten any better?
Grey: Much better, thanks to you. Starting my day with a text from Calvin seems to always help. But enough about me—how was YOUR day?
Cal: It would have been better if my friends weren’t such sick sonsabitches. I won’t get into details, but let’s just say it involved naked ass cracks, lunges, and MY boxer shorts. And the boxer shorts were not on me, but on Mason.
Grey: I just laughed out loud, and now my friends all want to know why I’m giggling.
Cal: Where are you?
Grey: Sitting in the dining hall, having a group lunch on campus.
Cal: What did you tell them you were laughing at?
Grey: The truth. I told them the truth: that you made me laugh and that you make me happy.
Grey: *yawn* My gosh, why am I so tired?!
Cal: You already in bed?
Grey: Yes. The pillows were calling my name. You?
Cal: Yeah. Reading a book.
Grey: Which one?
Cal: American Sniper. Have you seen the movie?
Grey: Not yet.
Cal: We should definitely go see it. I mean—if you want.
Grey: Yeah, we should. I’ll go anywhere that serves popcorn in a gallon-sized bucket. Do you read a lot?
Cal: Yes. I’ll read just about anything—except maybe textbooks. Ha ha.
Grey: Likes to read: add that to the list of things I like about you.
Grey: *yawn* Hey, Cal?
Cal: Yeah, Greyson?
Cal: Grey?
Cal: Did you fall asleep on me?
Cal: Guess so.
Cal: Sweet dreams, sweetheart.
Grey: Morning! I am so sorry I passed out on you last night. Your messages were nice to wake up to, though. Although, somehow I can’t picture you calling me sweetheart to my face. Don’t tough guys hate that kind of mushy stuff?
Cal: Hold that thought, baby cakes. Ha ha. Just got in from my jog. Give me a few to jump in the shower. I’ll text you in a bit.
Cal: Really needed that shower. I did a quick 5 miles. You don’t happen to jog, do you? Six Rivers has some sweet trails.
Grey: Honestly, no. But I’m willing to try anything once that won’t kill me.
Cal: Seriously?
Grey: Yes. I’ll just make sure to run behind you so I can stare at your superb ass #motivation
Cal: Hey. You stole my line.
Cal: Hey, Grey?
Grey: Yeah?
Cal: I’m starting to miss you.
Grey: Me too.
Cal: You miss you too?
Grey: Stop it, you’re killing the mood.
Cal: Sorry. But I do miss you. Is that weird?
Grey: Everything about us is weird.
Grey: Tell me something about yourself that no one else knows.
Cal: Oh brother, that’s horrible. Did you steal that line from a movie?
Grey: JUST DO IT
Cal: So feisty in the morning—I like it. Okay, fine. But I’m only doing this because although you’re small, you’re scary. Let’s see, something no one else knows. Um. Okay. I have one: everyone thinks I broke my nose playing football, but in reality, it got broken when I wa
s in a fight with my sister.
Cal: She was chasing me, and I smashed into a door trying to get away from her. I was 15.
Grey: LOLOL >tear< you’re so adorable.
Cal: *rolls eyes* your turn.
Grey: Alright, um…I broke up with my last boyfriend, but I let him tell people he broke up with me.
Cal: You must have really wanted to get rid of him. When was this?
Grey: Freshman year. So, two years ago.
Cal: And that’s the last guy you dated?
Grey: Pretty much. What about you?
Cal: I haven’t dated any guys in the last two years either.
Grey: Would you KNOCK IT OFF?
Cal: Why do you keep yelling at me in all caps?
Grey: Just answer the question.
Cal: Fine. My last “real” girlfriend was a girl I dated in high school. Kid shit, nothing serious. I didn’t even take a date to prom; I only went to that because I was on court and my mom made me go.
Cal: So, going back to what you said before: if it’s been two years since you dated anyone, does that mean…
Grey: Does that mean… what? *blank stare*
Cal: It’s a personal question. You don’t have to answer.
Grey: Go. Spit it out already.
Cal: How long has it been? Since.
Grey: Ah, now we’re getting down to the nitty gritty… How long have you been dying to ask me about sex?
Cal: Long enough, smart-ass.
Grey: LOL. Okay, so how long has it been since I’ve had sex—2 long-ass years. Sorry, but I’m not the kind of girl that sleeps around. I’m a committed-relationship kind of person. Does that satisfy your curiosity?
Cal: Yes. I like that about you.
Grey: Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s what all guys say until they want to have sex with me but refuse to commit. Then they get pissed and never call back. Some guys are so delusional. They think buying a girl one cheap beer is enough to get them into bed. Please, don’t make me laugh.
Grey: Besides, if you were trying to have sex with me, you wouldn’t like it so much either.
