Starbucks.
He wasn’t there when I arrived, and I stepped up to the counter, ordering a Cinnamon Dolce latte.
The guy handed me my drink and I slipped a cardboard sleeve on it.
Surprisingly, Starbucks was mostly empty.
I took a seat at the bar in front of the window. My eyes zeroed in on a sleek black car approaching and the butterflies started.
Oh, God.
Why had I agreed to this?
I had already been crazy nervous for Friday, agreeing to see him again was only serving to make my nerves worse.
I watched him slip from his car, and pull off his sunglasses, folding them, and hooking them onto his shirt.
He opened the door, and looked up, smiling when he spotted me.
His cheeks were dotted in day old stubble and his eyes were a light green.
“Hey,” he grinned.
“Hi,” I squeaked, my eyes darting away from his, and connecting with the tile floor.
“Save my seat,” he winked, before getting in line, behind the few people that had trickled in.
I sipped slowly at my coffee so I didn’t burn my throat.
The stool beside me pulled out and Trace dropped into it.
I didn’t know what to say, so I stared awkwardly out the window.
He cleared his throat. “Olivia?”
I reluctantly turned to him.
“Are you okay?” He asked, looking me over.
I nodded. I couldn’t tell him that it scared me the way my body responded to him. Already, I found myself scooting closer to him. It was like he was the sun, and I was a flower, stretching up to reach his rays.
I knew I needed to say something and stop sitting here like a mute. “I’m glad you texted me,” I squeaked.
“You are?” He tilted his head. “Because you don’t look that happy.”
I bit my lip. “You…you make me…nervous,” I admitted.
He grinned. “I make lots of people nervous,” he skimmed his fingers lightly over my hand that rested on the top of the bar. “It’s a perfectly normal reaction.”
I shivered in response to his words.
“Seriously, though,” he pulled his hand away, “there’s no need for you to be nervous around me. I’m just a guy.”
I begged to differ. He was a freakin’ Adonis. And he was nice. And caring. And-
I swallowed thickly.
I might not have known Trace for long, but I had always been able to read people well, and I knew he was a genuinely good person…even if he was a little on the cocky side.
“Is your car doing okay?” He asked. “The tire’s okay?”
“Huh?” I stuttered. “Oh…yeah,” I shook my head. “It’s fine.”
“Do I fluster you, Olivia?” He grinned, wetting his lips.
“No!” I answered too quickly.
“There’s no reason to get defensive,” he chuckled, rubbing his jaw.
I glanced at him quickly, before my eyes flickered back to my cup of coffee, studying it intently.
I stared out the window, across the road at the strip mall, like it was the most interesting thing I had ever seen.
I shuffled my cup of coffee back and forth, scooting it along the tabletop, but then, it went flying from my fingers and tipped over. The contents spilled out on the counter and straight onto Trace’s jeans.
He jumped from his stool to avoid more of the hot liquid. My cheeks flamed. This would only happen to me.
“I’m so sorry,” I exclaimed, setting the cup upright, and grabbing a wad of napkins to dry the mess I had made. Trace would have to take care of his pants because I wasn’t going near that.
“It’s okay,” he assured me, wiping his jeans.
I bit down on my lip to hold back tears. I was the most embarrassing person on the planet.
I threw away the soiled napkins and frowned at the stain covering his jeans.
“Hey,” he grabbed my chin. “It’s no big deal. They’re only jeans. Look at them,” he pointed at the material, “they’re already covered in grease stains. What’s a little coffee?”
“Stop trying to make me feel better,” I mumbled, stepping away from his touch.
He let his hand fall to his side. By now, the people gathered in Starbucks were watching