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“Do you have a boyfriend waiting for you back at that apartment of yours?” I realize he must have the same thoughts as me. I raise a peace sign.
“Two. Ben and Jerry.” My brilliant retort is rewarded with a smile that sends my heart racing. “You?”
“Does Little Debbie count?”
I giggle and relax. I like this version of Devon. Quick, confident, sexy. It’s a winning combination. “Glad that’s out of the way. If we’re going to work together, I guess we should get to know each other better. Have you always wanted to be a barista, or is this part of some master plan to take down the coffee cartel?”
He freezes, and I rewind the question in my head.What did I say?
He takes a step back, bursting the bubble we were in. The warm, comforting,I want to kiss yoububble. “It’s a job.” His statement is flat, devoid of emotion. I wait for him to expound, and when he doesn’t, I take the hint.
“Speaking of jobs, I’ve brought a few designs.” I give him my back and pace toward the shopping bag. “We can do it quick. I know you’ve had a long day.”
My feet pause when I hear him mutter to himself. “Say something.” Two words not meant for my ears. Two words that put me on alert. I freeze and wait for him to say something.
Anything.
Please.
Take us back to the bubble.
Make me laugh again.
Make me do something irresponsible.
All I hear is silence. It sets off warning bells. My mother’s voice in my head, the words instilled in me since I hit puberty. The ones I continue to remind Stacy about.Don’t fall for the wordshe says. Make note of what he doesn’t say. That’s where the truth lies.
I dig into the shopping bag, the loud crinkle of plastic sounding like explosions in the quiet café. I grab a pair of shorts and a tank top, designs I’ve spent months on and am so proud of. Designs that had me skipping like a schoolgirl, racing back to the café to share with Devon. The shortness of breath I experienced when I pushed open the café searching him out is long gone. Replaced with a ragged breath filled with concern.
I turn, and all I find is him staring down at his feet. It’s the first time I’ve looked up all day at him and don’t catch him looking back. It’s the first time the sound my heart racing in my chest doesn’t drown out everything else. For the first time I can hear, and all I hear are warning bells and silence.
Chapter Six
Devon
“What am I doing?” I stare into the bathroom mirror, the face of a confused, lost man staring back at me. I’m wearing a beautiful blue and white volleyball tank top. A bold font spelling the wordMagicwritten diagonally across my chest, a tiny black wand and gold and purple stars shooting from its tip.
My hand smooths the incredibly soft material down my body, and I pose.
I’m an actor. I’ve done dozens of costume fittings. Have even done a few photo shoots; most actors have. I’m the perfect person to help Zara with her pitch.
I grip the sink with both hands, my head hanging low. But I can’t be that person. As far as she knows, I’m an incompetent barista who spills more drinks than he serves. A walking disaster.
A soft knock on the door snaps me back. “Please tell me it fits. If it doesn’t, I’m screwed.”
I gulp when she reminds me what’s at stake for her.
“Yeah. I’ll be right out.” I tug on the bottom of the jersey, my hands lowering to the matching shorts. They’re tight, white with daring slits up the sides that show more skin than I’m used to seeing on a men’s volleyball uniform. Almost as much skin as shown by women volleyball players. It’s a statement, a subtle jab at patriarchy.
I run my hand through my hair, pushing my locks in front of my face, the only defense I have. When I step out, Zara is right there. Her eyes immediately take a slow perusal of me. A smile tugs on the corner of her mouth. Relief follows. “You’re perfect.”
I chew on my tongue. Perfect is the last word I would use to describe me.
She lifts a finger high, twirling it. “Spin, please.”
I take a deep inhale and hate myself for what I’m about to do. I lift my arms out wide and spin. My left foot crosses in front of my right, and I stumble, my hands finding the wall to prevent the fall. It’s awkward, it’s dorky, it’s what she would expect. It’s what I must do. I can’t allow my attraction to become a distraction.
“You’re good.” Her words are meant to let me know I didn’t break anything, but I hear them as something else.You’re good.I don’t deserve her kind words.
