"You like it." He moves into line behind a guy with hipster glasses. "Besides, I'm buying your coffee."
"But it's not a date?"
"Call it what you want."
The guy in front of us finishes his order. We move forward. Walker orders the fancy black iced coffee. I order the fancy sweetened one.
Mmm. Sugar and caffeine. Truly, the source of all happiness in the world. Especially when other vices are off limits.
My tongue slides over my lips. My thoughts get sharper. More focused. It's the same as it was. I know. It sounds ridiculous, but it's the same to my brain.
Mmm. Fix. Almost. Here. Need. It. Now.
My toes tap together.
My fingers tap the counter.
Now.
I. Need. It. Now.
I force my fingers to steady.
I can handle waiting for coffee.
Really.
I press my hands into my sides as we move to the pick-up counter. This is a small shop. Hardwood floors. White walls. Three shiny white tables with uncomfortable looking trendy chairs.
And coffee.
All the sweet, sweet caffeine and sugar I need.
I force myself to look at Walker. Conversation is a good distraction. And this is a date. I need to carry my half of it. "Where are you from?"
"Beverly Hills."
I don't believe him. I stare into those eyes, trying to figure him out. He's telling the truth. I think.
"Told you."
"But you're…"
"You're stereotyping me?"
"No. Then I'd be saying you must really have issues with your parents to rebel from your life of privilege."
"Ah."
"You seriously have to stop with the ah."
"Are you going to escalate the threat to coffee on my head?"
"That's a waste of coffee."
"That gives me leeway." His eyes light up as he smiles.
It really is a nice smile.
I admit it. I stare. I stare until the barista is calling my order. Then I pounce on my sweet, sweet caffeine.
Mmm. Sugar. Coffee. Happiness.
"Shit, Iris. You're making me jealous." Walker presses his palm into my lower back as he leads me toward a table.
"Am I moaning that much?" I am. But I can't help it. It's so good.
He nods as he takes a seat. "I like it." He looks up at me with a wicked smile. "This is familiar."
My cheeks flush. Thoughts of last night fill my head. His fingers curling into my thighs. His lips on my skin. His cock driving into me.
Ahem.
I sit.
Cross my legs.
Take a long sip.
Stare at my new ink instead of at him.
"Is that one mistake, or a few?" He sucks his coffee through his straw.
"A few." Hundred. Or thousand. Or maybe hundred thousand.
"Something in particular?"
"Yeah."
He doesn't ask for an explanation. He just leans back and drinks his coffee.
I copy his cool posture. His oh, look how relaxed I am, but I can't nail it. My limbs feel awkward. My back is straining. My arm just won't hang over the side of my chair.
He laughs. "Am I that obnoxious?"
"Not quite."
"I usually ask people about their ink. What it means. Most people want to talk about it."
"I already paid you."
"And fucked me."
"True." I take a long sip of my coffee. "But you don't strike me as the kind of guy who has to convince women to fuck him."
"I don't know. Tried pretty hard last night."
"Yeah. You want to get out of here? That's an entire sentence."
"Usually I pin 'em to the wall right there."
"Really?"
He raises a brow. "What do you think?"
"I don't know. You're different than most of the guys I know."
"The grad students?"
"Yeah." And the guys from my old job answering phones. And from my old life. Every part of it.
"Your ex have a name?"
"Ross."
"When did you breakup?"
"A few months ago." Right before I went to rehab. He's still in love with old Iris. He still wants her back. He texts every so often. Sometimes, I give into my loneliness and text him back.
I miss him. He wasn't a great boyfriend. He certainly wasn't a good influence.
But he…
He was fun. For that Iris.
"Who did the dumping?" Walker sets his drink down. He leans close, intrigued.
"Hard to say exactly."
"Oh?" He raises a brow.
"You really don't date."
"I told you."
"You're asking all the wrong questions."
"You mean girls don't get wet talking about their exes?"
"Not usually."
"Shit. I better make a note." He pulls a marker from his pocket, uncaps it, and scribbles on his arm. Don't ask babes about their exes.
"Or their moms."
He adds or their moms. "I appreciate the tips."
"Uh-huh."
He caps the marker. His eyes find mine. They're bright. Joyful. "Really."
He's a fun guy.
More fun than Ross.
Certainly better in bed.
Certainly more interesting.
"Was he your mistake?" He takes another sip.
I follow suit. I'm already halfway done with this coffee. I can order more. The price is a crime, but I have plenty saved, and I have my stipend, and my parents are more than willing to offer money anytime I need it. Even after everything.
"Is that a no?"
"I don't know. That's a hard question. The person I was then was happy with him."
"And who was she?"
"Someone else."
"When did you breakup?"
"On Christmas."
"Shit. I'm gonna have to buy you another coffee."
"You really are digging yourself into a deeper and deeper hole." I take a long sip. Mmm. Usually, I wouldn't let him buy me another coffee. But I'm tempted to take him up on his offer. Not just for the caffeine. But for everything.
"You have anyone you call?"
"Hmm?"
"For sex."
"Oh." I fight my blush. Wet my dry throat. "Not at the moment." Or ever. But he doesn't need to know that.
"Me either."
"Oh."
"I like you, Iris. I had fun last night. More than I've had in a long time."
"Really?"
"I know. I seem like a slut. I am." His brow scrunches. He's thinking something. He must figure it out, because understanding spreads over his expression. "But I'm tired of one and done. I want something steady. With someone I like." His eyes meet mine. "With you."
"What exactly do you want with me?"
"I want you to be my fuck buddy."
Chapter Seven
Walker
Iris blinks twice.
Her blue eyes fill with surprise.
A blush spreads over her cheeks.
She wraps her fingers around her cup, brings it to her lips, sucks coffee from the straw until she's slurping ice.