Sweetheart Single

14 | Cozy Coffee Shop

About thirty minutes after Lucy leaves, I decide I could use some fresh air myself. I pull on my snow boots and black raincoat and pack my tote with the essentials. Phone. Book. Wallet. Umbrella. Lanyard.

Campus is always dead empty on Sundays. I think most people sleep in in an effort to recuperate from their Saturdays. A practice I understand now, thanks in part to last night. There aren't any classes on Sundays, of course, but the SAC and gym are still open. Although, I suppose today the reason for the lack of foot traffic is the rain.

Boy, is it raining today!

I pull my clear umbrella shut as I enter the SAC and head straightaway for the quiet coffee lounge that's tucked on the side of the lounge. The barista already has my regular order ready when I walk up to the counter.

"Thank you muchly," I say, taking the white cup.

"Anything else today? You're the second person I've seen since 7 AM," he tells me, leaning on the counter.

"Umm," I pause, glancing into the glass pastry cabinet. "I'll have a slice of the pound cake."

He uses the tongs to grab a slice of pink-frosted vanilla pound cake with –you guessed it –heart jimmies. It looks like the donuts Carter brought to the clock tower the other night.

"Enjoy," he tells me, handing off the pastry bag.

"Thanks."

I take my coffee and treat to the cluster of pumpkin-orange chintz chairs nearest the fireplace and settle down for what promises to be a lazy and relaxing afternoon.

I see a text from Shawn just as I'm putting my phone away.

Gym sesh tomorrow?

U promised ;)

I decide to wait to answer him. Mainly to think of an excuse not to go to the gym with Shawn, where I'd undoubtedly make a fool of myself! Instead, I pull my book into my lap to commence hours of reading and hopefully induce reveries of the rural English countryside.

An hour in, the rain continues to pummel the grounds. No one has come or gone; it's just me and the barista. The cozy fire and heavy pitter-patter on the windows lull me into a stupor. It doesn't help that I'm operating on five hours of sleep.

I doze off and my head starts falling. I jerk it up a few times to try and keep myself focused on my book. It's no use, no offense to Jane Austen. I'm just thinking maybe I'll go back for a nap when I hear someone throw something down on the table behind me.

Jake stands at the highly polished table behind the chintz chair across from mine.

"Hi," he says, not taking his eyes off mine.

"Hi," I reply, quickly looking back down at my book. I will not say more –not unless he does.

I replay our interaction from last night in my head. Will he bring it up? Should I?

"Having a reading party in the rain?" He asks, brows furrowed.

"Not a party. And not in the rain." I roll my eyes and return them to my page. "Rain adjacent."

"Mind if I join? Reading not in the rain?" Jake asks, grinning.

I have half a mind to tell him it's a free country and to do whatever he wants, so long as he leaves me alone. But I don't. Instead, I shrug half-heartedly, but with an earnest that seems pretty full-heart to me.

"Didn't think reading was your idea of fun." I readjust my sweater's neckline as Jake moves around the chair and stops in front of the fireplace.

"On a day like this, it is." He pulls something thin and rectangular from his jean's back pocket.