Page 30 of To Love the Stars too Fondly

“I’ve got plenty of practice tucking.” Now it was her turn to blush, and a very weak part of me wondered if we even needed to leave this car to have a proper date. “It’s flexible when it needs to be.”

“I see.” With some reticence, I pulled my hand back. I batted my eyelashes, doing little to hide how hot I was getting between my legs. “Where to next?”

“Inside. I’m paying.”

I scowled the moment she stepped out, but before I could follow, she was already at my door. “Allow me,” she said, and she offered a hand.

A different sort of warmth filled me, this time in my chest, the same warmth when she’d pulled me away from my stalker and whispered reassuringly against my lips. I grabbed her hand, surprised at my own disappointment when she stole it back once I was steadied.

Once inside, the shop gave off an industrial vibe.

My first surprise came when Alex escorted me to a table instead of the counter, but I played along and scanned the QR code menu in the center. “Just a coffee shop?” I teased, and Alex shrugged.

“It’s not not, though they do make their own pastries in-house.”

I feigned a scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“They also,” Alex replied, her grin a challenge, “grind and roast their own beans.”

“Hey, at least we order from a local—” I shut my mouth, realization settling. “Oh my God, we order our beans from here.” A nice waitress approached, and I hid my defeat. “Just order me the nicest thing on the menu.”

Alex’s laughter held victory, and she did just that, ordering a pastry I couldn’t pronounce the name of and a matcha latte—iced, like a heathen. “Trust me,” she said.

“Can I ask something kinda personal?” I pressed, curious about our phone conversation.

“That’s entirely the point of us being here.”

“Well, this might be something you don’t want to elaborate on, so you get a free opt-out, but since I finally tempted you out of your vow of celibacy, I just want to know why that even started.”

Alex’s sigh came with a stale smile. “I was in a bad place, about two years ago. You could argue I was a sex addict, though that paled to a lot of my other addictions. I hit rock bottom and decided I needed to change. So, I wiped the slate clean. No more sex, no alcohol, no drugs—that’s about when I joined Chiara at the gym. She pulled me out of my funk. I owe everything to her.”

“How do you know her?”

“Long story, but she used to work for my mother.”

“As what—a bodyguard?”

I meant it as a joke, but Alex nodded.

“And she doesn’t like me?” I added, unable to help my grimace.

“She doesn’t know you. But she knows who I used to be and the kinds of women I used to surround myself with. You’ll show her you’re different just by being yourself.”

“Pressure’s on then,” I muttered.

The waitress returned, holding a platter with our respective pastries and drinks. I had to admit the iced nonsense smelled delightful, filled with autumn vibes, and whatever pastry she’d ordered for me leaked chocolate at the seams. “You’ve won me over,” I said, and her demeanor was far sweeter as she sipped her own iced latte—plain, but that was better than the abomination.

“I just feel like,” Alex said, “hot drinks are for morning, and iced drinks are for afternoon.”

“That’s certainly an opinion you have.” I took a drink, disappointed to find it was a sensory delight and absolutely delicious. “Though if this is your standard for iced drinks, I see why you have it.”

Alex kept her chill demeanor. “I don’t have entirely abominable tastes.”

“I suppose not, though I suspect they measure the amount of sugar in their drinks in cups.”

Alex chuckled. “So, you know a little more about me. What’s something I don’t know about you?”

“You set the bar pretty high for trauma,” I said, though my stomach unwillingly clenched.