Make It Two

What's Cooler Than Being Cool?

Juggling was no secret hidden talent of mine so why I thought I could do it with my iPhone and my cold brew was beyond comprehension. The result was, of course, inevitable and I was certain nearly everyone in Canada's own Tim Horton's that morning saw it coming but me.

Brain focused entirely on my assistant's stressed-out tone pushing its way through the airwaves and out of my phone speakers, my heels, which I had recently been forced to begin wearing though I'd never had a flair for doing so, snagged on the trendy rug and launched my much-needed caffeinated beverage through the air. It's target? Most assuredly the most attractive man I'd ever laid my eyes upon.

His morning mussed-up hair and dark, brooding eyes the precise color of the coffee now staining his no longer white tee shirt. As those eyes met mine, my lips popped open and my cheeks blazed crimson. Fighting the urge to mutter obscenities under my breath, I reached out for a fistful of napkins before marching over to him with as much dignity as I could salvage.

"I am so sorry," I told him emphatically, pressing the bunch of napkins against his chest and dabbing what I could from the fabric. After a moment of my doomed attempt at recovery, he raised a brow and I realized I was a stranger in a coffee shop who had dumped an entire fourteen ounces of perhaps the most staining beverage on the market upon him before proceeding to then feel him up in a very public place. I felt my cheeks burn again as I snapped my hand away and cleared my throat. "I-um, well at least it was iced, yeah? No burn ward visits today."

My joke landed flat. His lips were a thin, unamused line as he watched me so closely that I started to shift my weight back and forth on my toes from discomfort. Then he reached out and grabbed my wrist. My eyes went wide as he lifted my hand up between us and then slowly removed the bunch of napkins before beginning to dab at himself.

"Yes, well, again I apologize. I'd like to pay for your dry cleaning," I told him, regaining my composure as I straightened up. "It's the least I can do."

For the first time, he smiled and the way his lips quirked up ever so slightly to reveal a row of gleaming white teeth made my breath hitch in a way that was entirely unexpected. His eyes roved over me then, from my blonde waves to my knock-off Jimmy Choos and that smirk remained plain on his lips.

"It's a tee-shirt," he said, tossing the napkins away effortlessly in the trash can without taking his eyes off mine. "How about you just buy me a coffee? You're in need of a new one yourself. Make it two."