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Yeah, I’ve got your number, lady.
“Just a minute,” I say, turning back to the machine to focus. I bite my lip as I rack my brain for a plan.
The jingle of the bell above the door is my saving grace. Mia walks in, her long blond hair swaying behind her back as she weaves between tables.
“Finally,” I mutter, turning to the counter once more. “How about you all tell me your orders, and we’ll go from there?”
The man in the back smirks again, like my ineptitude is entertaining.
I twist my lips and glare.
The other customers step up and give me their orders, but my focus keeps slipping back to him. Mia stops when she reaches him, and he gives her his full attention, his smile lifting for her.
He’s tall—at least a couple of inches over six feet—and he’s wearing a light gray herringbone suit. Versace, if I had to guess. It pulls across his shoulders, hinting at what he’s hiding. Strong, broad, muscular shoulders, a tight waist, and an ass worthy of bouncing quarters off.
They say a few words to one another, and she laughs as they both turn in my direction. I glare back.
Mia squeezes his shoulder and walks toward me. Rounding the counter, she smacks my ass. “Sorry, my date took a bit longer than I thought it would,” she offers, a flirty smile gracing her lips.
“You were on a date?” I gape. “I thought you had to meet with your professor.”
Her eyes dance. “I did.”
“Slut,” I grumble with a laugh, shaking my head.
“If the name fits,” she sings. She turns away from me and claps her hands. “Okay, everyone, your favorite barista is here! Give me five minutes, and I’ll give you heaven.”
The hottie in the back keeps his eyes on Mia. Or more specifically, her hips.
I sigh. Blondes really do have more fun.
As soon as the rush has passed, Mia leans against the counter and smirks. “Sorry again. I really didn’t think anyone would come in this late.”
“Can you show me how to work the machine now? I felt like such an idiot.”
Mia moves closer and brushes the hair out of my face. “Sorry, gorgeous. You’re not an idiot. Just a bit of a princess.”
I grimace at the nickname. My father used to call me that, and I hate my father.
“Just teach me,please,” I beg.
When I turn away, embarrassed by how desperate I sound, I meet those glacier blue eyes again. He’s seated across the café, his attention trained on Mia, or maybe on her proximity to my body.
Ugh. She’s probably fucked him too. I push away from her in a huff.
Mia follows my gaze and pushes closer to me, her hand cradling my face. “He’s just a friend,” she murmurs softly, pressing closer to me.
“So am I,” I remind her.
It’s been a long time since we were anything more.
“You know that’s not true,” she says as she presses her finger against my lip. And dammit, I don’t push her away.
Mia is a user. She’s also been my best friend since grade school, the person I’ve done everything with. And yeah, I mean everything.
I tried to distance myself from her. My grandmother thought it would be good for me. I needed to find my way out of her shadow.
So when we graduated from high school, she went to Providence College, and I went to NYU.
