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REAGAN: Does that anyone else mean someone whose name rhymes with “Bleck-lan?”
I can’t help but laugh at that. It’s so nice to have an ally like Reagan in my corner, who I’m pretty sure would try to take a swing at Declan if they ever happened to cross paths.
ME: No, actually. Hannah, my coworker. She’s been really catty ever since it got around that I was in charge of this pitch.
REAGAN: Ugh, she’s jealous of you.
ME: I don’t know. She has been here longer than I have. If the tables were turned, and I was having to sit there and play nice with some newbie who was stealing all the thunder… I guess I understand where Hannah is coming from.
Frankly, Hannah has been a nightmare. I swear that she’s going out of her way to try to piss me off, attempting to steal glances of what I’m working on over my shoulder, at my desk. She even spilled coffee on my desk, almost directly on my laptop. It’s like she’s actively orchestrating my failure on this project.
REAGAN: Okay, that’s very grown up of you and all, but Hannah can take a freaking seat. Don’t tone down your own awesomeness just because someone else isn’t doing as good as you. That’s why she’s acting like she is. She knows you’re doing better, so she’s trying to tear you down.
ME: Maybe…
REAGAN: You know I’m right. Get out there and show her who’s boss! Gotta go—Caleb is calling.
ME: Have a good one!
I slip my phone into my purse just as I reach the front of the line, where David is beaming at me and already punching the register.
“The usual for my regular?” he asks.
“Only if you actually let me pay for it,” I say.
“Sophie, I have a fund for these kinds of scenarios,” he tells me, already dashing around to gather the ingredients. The shop is surprisingly busy for how early it is. “I’m building up rapport—and customer loyalty. I’m investing in you with these lavender lattes. I want you to come back. To bring people. To catfish people about this shop that gives you free drinks all the time so that I can snare them with a pricey beverage.”
I laugh and shake my head at him. “You’re ridiculous.”
He hands me my latte, and our fingers brush. “You know what’s ridiculous? Is that you’ve been coming here all this time and I haven’t asked you for your number.”
My eyes widen, and I let out a nervous huff of laughter before I can stop myself. I have been coming to this coffee shop for a while now. That much is true. But I’ve usually been too wrapped up in work or Declan or both, so apparently I’ve missed the clues that David actually likes me.
“No pressure whatsoever,” he says, his kind smile reaching all the way up to his warm eyes—and then some. “I just wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I didn’t ask. If I let something pass me by.”
I open my mouth to let him down gently, and then stop, the “no” dying on my lips.
Why in the world would I turn down someone who’s as nice and as cute as David? Who goes out of his way to make my day brighter? Who actually notices when I’m feeling down about something and tries to help out?
It’s ridiculous that Declan is the answer. There’s nothing between us. He goes out of his way to make me feel like crap.
There should be no reason I’m still burning a candle for him.
I smile. “I’d love to give you my number,” I tell David, who grins back at me. “In fact, what are you doing tonight?”
* * *
Declan
I hate people who drum their fingers on their desks. It’s annoying. It shows both lack of control and focus.
And I’m the one doing it.
I try to hold on to the report I should be reading to distract myself, but I only read the same line over again for what feels like the fortieth time.
Fuck. I can’t focus. This is ridiculous.
And of course it has to do with Sophie.
