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Unlike my older brother, I wasn’t interested in going to Brown. It’s where my father and grandfather went. And where I was expected to attend.
Jameses go to Brown University.
My grandmother met my grandfather there. And my father met my mother. No one has forgone that school.
Except me. For two years I did.
And then I got the internship at Jolie Magazine. It’s my dream job. But their office is in Boston and they’re partnered with Brown. So moving back to the area was a necessity.
With Mia still at school here, I thought moving in with her was a no-brainer.
It’s been one week, and I’m already questioning the decision.
“You’re my only girl,” she says, pressing herself closer to me.
I push back against the counter. I’m not going back into that toxic relationship.
“The coffee maker,” I say, changing the subject.
She smirks, as if she knows what I’m doing.Good, be my friend. That’s all I want.
“Fine,” she huffs, “I’ll teach you how to make a cup of coffee when the next customer comes.”
“I’d like a cup,” a voice says from behind us. His voice is smooth, deeper than I’m used to. The men at school sound like boys. He is definitelynota boy.
When I turn, I’m met with the sky-blue eyes of the man in the herringbone suit. My breath nearly whooshes from my chest. His gaze leaves mine and rakes down my body slowly before moving back up to my arm, where Mia’s fingers are stroking seductively. I’m not sure whether she’s showing off for him or claiming me.
With her, either is possible.
I pull away from the unwanted contact. “What can we get you?” I ask, offering a smile.
“I’ll take a coffee”—he offers me a come-hither smirk—“and your name and number.”
I spin away, my hair swinging behind me, and reply, “I’ll get you that coffee.”
“You’re not going to tell me your name?” he asks, the humor in his tone hinting at the smile I can almost guarantee he’s wearing.
I examine the confounding piece of equipment in front of me. I have no intention of letting him know I need Mia’s help. “Nope,” I say. “You have to earn the right to that information.”
He chuckles. “And how would one go about doing that?”
Mia’s arm brushes against me as she reaches around and hits the switch on the coffee pot. “I got you, babe,” she says loudly.
I close my eyes in annoyance and keep my attention fixed on the coffee brewing in front of me.
As soon as it’s ready, I pour it into a paper cup, turn around, and hand it to Blue Eyes, although I don’t look into them again.
“You never answered my question,” he says, his brow arched. “How would I go about earning that information?”
“By being less cliché,” I offer.
“Cliché?” he asks, the tone of his voice making it almost impossible to not look up.
“Yes, overused, lack of original thought,” I deadpan, finally meeting his gaze.
The right side of his lip raises as he scrutinizes me ruefully.
But before he can respond, Mia calls out, “Hey, Cat, no need to ring him up. He owns the joint.”
