Itwas something that said I was done with the shameless flirtation, the littletouches and the cuddling. Done with other women and with watching her be withother men.
I’mnot sure I would ever completely understand why we had done it. Why we had keptourselves in that pathetic friend-zone of ignorant bliss. Maybe it was the fearof screwing it all up, by throwing titles and sex into the mix. Or maybe it wasa fear of one day letting go.
But,whatever it was, I was done being afraid.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kylie
As a kid, Ineverplayed house. I was never the doting mommy in a kitchen playset,serving my baby dolls mashed peas.
No, I played barista, and served my teddy bears black coffee andscones.
I don’t remember the moment I first fell in love with the moodyatmosphere of a coffee shop, or the scent of freshly ground coffee beans. Idon’t even knowhow, considering my parents were never ones to drinkcoffee that didn’t come from a Folgers can. But, that’s how it was. It was mycalling, to serve people the drink that would wake them up.
And it wouldn’t have happened, if it weren’t for Devin, making mydreams come true.
“Hey, you okay?”
How long had I been staring into the empty cup in my hand? I shookmy head, clearing my mind, and I looked over my shoulder at Officer Kinney. Dressedin his uniform with a pair of sunglasses hooked to the front pocket of hisleather jacket. I smiled and nodded.
“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks.” I turned back to dispensing his coffeefrom the carafe, popped a lid on the cup, and headed back to the register.“Here you go. I left room for milk.”
“Yaknow, you don’t need to tell me thatevery day,” he said with a friendly smile. “We’ve beendoin’this for years. I think I know by now, that you’regonnaleave room for milk.”
“Force of habit.” I returned the smile, but I didn’t feel it. Myeyes dropped to the register, and I sighed as I rang him up. “That’ll be—”
“Two-seventeen,” he finished for me. “God, you’re really not onyour game today, huh?”
I shook my head, running a hand over my hair, pulled back into itstight bun. “Yeah, I’m feeling a little … off, I guess.”
“Sick?” he asked, concern shadowing the dreamy eyes that weren’thaving their usual effect on me.
“No, I don’t think so. It’s just been one of those days.” I smiledapologetically—for being off, for not being able to shake that feeling all day.
Patrick handed me a five-dollar bill. “Well, I hope it getsbetter.” And with that, he turned around and headed out the door, and I sighed,staring into my lonely shop.
Slow days sucked, and I glanced at the old cuckoo clock on thewall.
2PM. In an hour, Brooke’s shift would start. In two hours, I wouldbe off the clock and heading home to make Devin’s damn meatloaf, becauseBritney couldn’t make one to save her life.
Britney. A pang of distaste—jealousy—stabbedat my nerves. How many girls had Devin been with over the years? Enough. Toomany. More than I would have liked, but … did I have any right to have anopinion? Wasn’t he just seeking companionship in the same way I was? Filling avoid, scratching an itch? Looking for the only things we weren’t getting fromeach other? And—
My head shot upward. “Oh my God,” I whispered to the shelves ofdead poets and authors. “We’re so fucking stupid.”
I never had boyfriends in high school or college. I dated everynow and then, but I had been too distracted by the turmoil at home to have anydesire to pay attention to guys. I never wanted to have to explain my situationto someone, never wanted to deal with the scrutiny.
But, after Devin and I had met, I saw him constantly. I alwaystold myself we werejustfriends,justhanging out, while myheart longed to call him mine. But now, it all started to feel as though he’dalwaysbeenmine. Like we’d been dating for years without the sex. We went to themovies, went to dinner, went for late-night walks, cuddled …
“God. We’ve always cuddled. Oh my God!” I whined to the store. “Dofriendscuddle likethat?”
I had never seen it firsthand but …maybethey did. Still,our affection had neverfeltfriendly. Ours had always been two tinysteps away from make-out territory. Those lingering glances, drowning in hiswarm, brown eyes. His tattooed arms. His body that never failed to make me feelsafe.
Those moments when I’d wished he’d kiss me. Those moments I hadneeded him to take the initiative, to save me with his lips and hands andheart.
?
“Let me tell you, Ky … you’ve never been fucked until you’ve had aguy like Trent,” Brooke said with an affirmative nod of her head as she walkedthrough the door.
