Not a very good idea.
My phone buzzes in my bag, alerting me of a new text. Swinging it from my hip to my front, I fish the phone out and swipe my finger to unlock the screen.
MJ: You sure you don’t want to come to the party?
My best friend’s persistence is endearing. She’s been checking with me every few hours to see if I’ve changed my mind about attending the party at a frat house. It’s not like I don’t want to get the full college experience, but I just feel like I need downtime to catch my breath before school starts. Besides, it’s not like the parties will go extinct anytime soon.
Smiling, I let my fingers fly as I type, My answer is still no. Next one, though. I hit send. Her answer pops up several seconds later.
MJ: You better enjoy your downtime because I’m holding you to that.
Me: Looking forward to it. Have fun! Love you.
MJ: Love you.
Almost twenty minutes later, I walk inside Josie’s Waffle House—a little café I stumbled upon on my way to an interview at Breakaway Bookstore two days ago. Josie’s is one of my favorite finds here at James Fredericks and I have a feeling I’ll be spending a lot of time here. Looking around, it’s clear I’m not the only one who’s a little obsessed with this place. Most of the booths are occupied by college students.
I make my way to an unoccupied one and place my bag on the table before sliding onto the seat. The waiter appears at my table almost immediately to take my order, then runs off just as quickly.
I pull out my laptop, notebook and pen from my bag and set them on the table. After powering on the laptop, I open the spreadsheet I designed a few days ago and start filling in my five-year plan. I type ‘done’ under the tab for finding a part-time job. I start my new job at the bookstore on Monday and I can’t wait.
Not long after, a shadow falls across the table. Assuming it’s the waiter delivering my order, I glance up with a smile on my face.
“Grace?” a deep familiar voice calls my name. I glance up, but can’t really tell who he is, because the light is on his back, so I have to squint to get a better look.
He shifts to the side enough for me to make out his features.
Wet, tousled, dark-blond longish hair, probably fresh from a shower—given the clean scents of soap and cologne wafting off him—square, clean-shaven jaw, lips quirked in a small smile.
“Levi, hey.” I smile wide, glad to see a familiar face. Despite my I’m ready to tackle the world attitude from before, I feel like a toddler, learning how to walk for the first time. Even though I’m drunk on the high of starting this new phase of my life, I’m a bit apprehensive on how to go about navigating it.
“Hey.” The smile morphs into a grin. Dimples pop in his cheeks. “Nice to see you again. MJ mentioned you got here a few days ago. Are you settling in well?”
I nod. “Quite well actually, thank you.”
His gaze moves from my face to my hair, lingering there for several seconds before he says, “You’ve changed your hair. Blue looks great on you. I like it.”
Fighting the urge to squirm from his close inspection and his words, I drag my fingers through my hair, then say, “Really? It—” I stop and swallow the words, “doesn’t look so nice now” I remind myself to be kind to myself and accept compliments, a promise I made to myself during my soul-searching trip in Europe. Instead I smile and say, “Thank you.”
He nods, slanting his head to the side a bit. “Need help with anything? Finding your way around campus, maybe?”
“Already done that.”
He smiles wider. “Overachiever much?”
I laugh. “I wanted to be ready for when classes start.”
Jeez. He needs to stop smiling. It’s very distracting. And that voice, it reminds me of the first time I heard him sing in Portland last year during the Sublime Chaos concert. It was one of the best days of my life. That memory triggers memories of Sol and me dancing as the band sang a cover of ‘Livin’ On A Prayer’ by Bon Jovi. My body shivers, recalling Sol’s hand on the small of my back as he pulled me closer, and the way he touched me as if he couldn’t help himself. Then we watched fireworks at the Old Orchard and later, strolled on the beach under a sky full of stars just being us . . .
I shake my head and huff a breath, annoyed. Why do I let my thoughts sneak back to the past and steal moments and drag them into the present? Why does it still hurt whenever I think about Sol? He should be a memory by now, but reliving that little memory is like itching a barely healed wound. Letting go isn’t as easy as I thought, I guess.
The waiter appears with my order—thank God for small mercies—and sets it on the table. I drop my pen and lunge for the coffee, gulping deeply from the mug. When I resurface, Levi’s watching me intently.
“Wow. I know they serve good coffee here, but I didn’t think it was that good.”
I tip coffee into my mouth to hide my smile. I have a feeling this boy with his easy nature and quick smiles may end up being a distraction. And as much as I’m all about making friends and having new experiences, school comes first. I have big plans for my future, and they start now. Well, not now. Next week.
Suddenly, I’m eager for him to leave. “Well, I kind of need to finish working on some stuff—” I nod to my laptop in front of me. I’m probably being a bitch, so I smooth the words with a slight lift of my lips.
His gaze cuts to the laptop and notebook on the table, then back to my face, his smile dimming a bit. “Oh. Sure. Yeah.”
From under my lashes, I watch him rub his neck with his fingers, dart a look toward the exit, then back at me.
He clears his throat. Is he nervous? He seemed so confident a few minutes ago.
“Quick question; there’s this frat party happening on the other side of campus, and everyone will be there. Wanna hang out later or whatever?”
I set my coffee on the table and shake my head. “MJ told me about it. But no. Thanks for inviting me, though.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Really? It’s the first week of the semester. You should be out there partying and making bad decisions, smoking pot, adding notches to your bedpost . . .”
“Uh, no, thanks.” I laugh.
“No to which part?”
“All of them?”
He groans, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Come on, Miller. Live a little. I mean, just look—”
“Yo! Keenan!” someone hollers above the café’s hubbub.
Levi’s head snaps up just as a shadow falls on our table. I look up and see a guy wearing the café’s uniform, waving two large brown bags in the air. “Your order’s ready, asshole.”
“Watch your language, jackass. There’s a lady present.”
I wouldn’t really call myself a lady, but whatever floats his flirtatious boat.
Levi grabs the bags and scoots out of his seat. “Grace Miller, meet my housemate and teammate, Gage Lockwood. Gage, this is Grace.”
Gage flashes me a bright smile, brilliant against his dark skin. He studies me, his dark eyes lighting up with something like recognition. “Hey, I know you. MJ’s best friend, right? I’ve seen you in some of her photos.”
I nod, a genuine smile lifting my cheeks as I take in this dark-skinned Adonis on my right. “It’s nice to meet you, Gage.”