Tryst [Preview] (Publication: March 17, 2015)

Chapter 2

I thought working at a twenty-four-hour coffee shop might make the most sense since I could pick up shifts at any time of day, and maybe squeeze in some studying here and there. Remembering how to make which latte this way and this coffee another way has been more complicated than memorizing my medication chart for class. You would be surprised by the concoctions some people order when they’re trying to burn the midnight oil.

The only enjoyable part of my job is my barista counterpart, Tucker. He helped me fumble through my first week of mocha debacles.

“Tucker, tell me something funny.”

He raises a brow at me as he refills the milk carafe. “Rough day? I thought you were moving in with your brother today?”

“I did. I met his roommate today too.”

“Oh, the mystery friend?”

I roll my eyes. I’d told Tucker that it was strange that I had never met my brother’s best friend, and that in light of the situation, I hoped he was pretty to look at.

“Yeah, mystery solved,” I spit out.

“He must be a looker for you to be so upset.” He snickers.

I pick up a dishtowel and throw it at him. “How do you know?”

“The one thing I’ve learned about you is that you rarely mean what you say when it comes to boys. You’re looking for a distraction, but you don’t want too much of one. He must be cute.”

“And a slut,” I say with emphasis.

“My favorite. When am I invited over?” His smile practically oozes seduction.

Tucker loves men, and for him the cuter and crazier, the better.

“Never at this rate. He had a girl over when I was there. He came into the kitchen, wearing just his underwear, and then I heard this chirpy voice down the hall beckoning him to love her. It was just gross.”

He laughs. “Jealous much?”

“Shut up. I don’t even know the guy.”

“Just because someone is getting some doesn’t mean you have to hate on him.”

I look for something else to throw, and he continues to laugh at me.

“Whose side are you on, Tucker?”

“I’m on the side of getting you laid!”

I guffaw. “I got only one rule from my brother, and that is not to sleep with Blake.”

Tucker leans against the counter, practically swooning. “Even his name is hot.”

“You are not helping.” My voice goes into a high-chirp tone.

He regains his composure. “Strange rule.”

“I thought so too. Did you get the large latte with an extra shot of espresso?”

“Are we talking about coffee now?” He sighs as if the topic of boys is way more palatable than work.

Ding.

The front door signals an incoming customer, and I’m thrown as I see the person stroll into my coffee shop.

I whisper, “Tucker,” forcefully as he turns around to walk up to the register to greet the customer.

Tucker puts on his best smile. “Hello, how may I help you?”

“Can I get a large caramel mocha with soy, please?” The voice is crisp and beyond cool.

“Absolutely, sir, it would be my pleasure. Your name?”

The customer swivels his view to behind the counter and makes eye contact with me. A wry smile forms as his eyes dart over me again, and my pulse quickens its pace.

“My name is Blake.” He looks amused. “Hey, roomie.”

I can’t stop staring, but neither can he. “Hey, Blake.”

“Nice to meet you, Blake,” Tucker cuts in. “I think I want to be your new best friend.”

“TUCKER!” is the only thing I can manage. I watch as Blake laughs.

I feel my face flush bright red. What is the appropriate reaction here?

Cutting off my outburst, Tucker can’t even help himself as he extends his manicured hand to Blake. “I have heard so much about you.”

It seems even Tucker isn’t immune to Blake’s looks.

Blake shoots me a deadly smirk as he looks back to Tucker. “Uh-oh, am I in trouble?” His voice is inviting and has a wonderfully deep timber.

I find my eyes roaming over his black fitted V-neck shirt and think idly, I know what he looks like underneath that. I’m mildly distracted by the memory of his hips.

“Big trouble with this one.” Tucker raises his eyebrows, signaling toward me.

Blake, without missing a beat, says, “I’m not too good with first impressions. Maybe I can make it up to you, roomie.”

He annoys me. Do I look like some bimbo who will drop everything for him?Because I’m not.Just because he’s good looking doesn’t mean he controls me with those distracting looks of his. He needs to be put in his place, at least for the sake of all girl-dom. A boy should not be allowed to have that sort of power over women and their hormones.

I can see Tucker opening his mouth to respond for me, and I just can’t have that. I provide Blake with a stern expression as I purse my lips and shake my head. “That really won’t be necessary. It was a caramel mocha, wasn’t it?” I exaggerate my movements as I make my way to the coffee machine.

He squints in disbelief. “With soy milk, please.”

I nod. “With soy, of course you would want soy. Let me get that for you.”

Is my voice dripping with disdain? Because I want it to.

Blake muffles his laughter and turns to Tucker. “Is she always like this?”

Tucker leans on the counter, joining Blake in observing me as I make his drink. “Nope, you seem to be the first person I’ve met to rile her up so much.”

I whip my head around, shocked. “Tucker Mitchell, would you stop it! You are supposed to be on my side.” I walk up to the counter, stomping my feet, and hand Blake his drink. “Here is your caramel mocha . . . with soy.” I fake a smile and bat my eyelashes.

His catlike eyes, flecked with a wicked gold gleam, watch me as he sips the drink. “You’re kind of cute when you’re angry.”

Did he really just say that?

“She is, isn’t she?” Tucker butts in.

I go wide eyed at the both of them, darting my gaze back and forth. I want to scream.

When did I lose control of my life?

Seeming proud of himself, Blake nods his good-bye to Tucker, who is still dreamily staring, and then looks at me. “I’ll be seeing you around, roomie.” I swear he’s laughing at me behind that beguiling half-smile.

He strolls his hot body out of my coffee shop without looking back.

Once I hear the door shut, I scream, “Tucker! What the hell?”

Tucker looks at me, and with no shame or remorse, he says, “I’d hit that.”

I close my eyes and slump my shoulders, exasperated.

There’s no hope for me.