Crash Into Me | ✓

seven

I thought I'd be used to the early May heat from living in Georgia, but the sun was different in the lowcountry, and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky to save me. I breathed a sigh of relief as Brooklyn came outside with two large iced coffees. The wrought iron tables on the patio of the local coffee shop didn't have umbrellas, and despite my body temperature rising by the minute, I refused to take my sweater off.

"So, just for your information," he said as he handed me my coffee. "People who drink black coffee are about 23% more likely to be complete sociopaths."

I scoffed at him and pointed to his own drink. Swirls of milk were still making their way to the bottom of the cup, turning the coffee the color of sand. "And just for your information," I retorted. "People who add a splash of coffee to their milk and sugar are about 60% more likely to be total wimps."

He smirked and shook his head. "Don't be mean just because I wouldn't let you pay for your drink."

"I'm not mean," I shrugged. "I just don't see why you had to, that's all." I took a sip, and the bitter chill of the coffee did little to cool my nerves.

He clicked his tongue and wagged his finger at me. "Because it's the right thing to do. My parents raised me to be polite and have manners. Paying for a girl after asking her out falls under that category."

"But we're just hanging out," I sputtered out. The dark lenses of his sunglasses hid his eyes, and I couldn't get a read on how bothered or unbothered he was as he chewed on his straw. Guilt rumbled in my chest, but I shook it off and took another sip of my coffee.

"Whatever," he shrugged. "I still wasn't going to let you pay."

A few moments of silence passed as he continued to chew his straw, and I continued to bob my knee up and down restlessly under the table.

"Fine, fine," I surrendered.

The only tell of emotion he gave me was the slight twitch in the corners of his mouth. Finally he just laughed that brilliant laugh of his. It rang clear through my ears, and I wanted to bottle it up in a jar to keep it and play it whenever I wanted.

"You know, you're cute when you're mad." He gave me a knee-weakening smirk, and I nearly choked on my coffee.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Terrific," I replied, clearing my throat. "Wonderful. Peachy keen."

He kept laughing.

"What's so funny?" I narrowed my eyes at him.

"You," he said as he casually sipped his drink. "You're something else. I like you."

"What?" I let out a snicker of disbelief. I avoided his gaze and stirred the rest of my coffee with the straw. "You don't even know me," I said defensively. "And I don't know you."

"Well isn't that the point of all this?" Brooklyn took his sunglasses off and placed them delicately on the table. He leaned forward on his elbows, and the tangy smell of cigarettes mixed with the sweet vanilla of his coffee buzzed in the air around me. I normally hated sweet drinks, but the amalgamation of scents made my head fuzzy. It was almost entrancing. "Okay, how about this? Ask me anything you want."

"Anything?" I asked.

"Yeah, anything."

I stirred my drink with the straw, contemplating my question carefully. The sound of the ice clattering against the plastic of the cup sounded like explosions in the silence.