“Fuck,” I mutter as I grab napkins in an attempt to stop the spread. But this guy is quicker, his hands working fast to help.
“Whoa, you alright? Your leg hit the table pretty hard.”
”Yeah, I’m fine,” I mumble as I wipe down my journal, most of the pages ruined. “I got this mess. I was just leaving but thank you.”
“Can I buy you a new coffee?”
His question throws me off, and I meet his gaze directly this time, not bothering to hide my puffy face. Who is this guy?
He doesn’t look familiar, his light blond shaggy hair and clean-shaven face not one I’ve seen around campus.
“No thanks. I gotta get going.” I grab my things from the table and shove them into my bag.
“Maybe just one coffee? You look like you could use some company.” He grins in an attempt to show his sincerity, and I believe him. I can only imagine what I look like.
Should I stay?
Every part of me screams no, I want to be alone, I want to go home. Why would I want the company of this stranger right now while my life is crumbling around me?
“I’m Dean, by the way. Dean Maloney.”
“Raina, and one quick coffee, that’s it.”
He holds his hands up in surrender and laughs. “Okay, okay, you got it. One quick coffee coming up.”
And then I find myself having coffee with a man I so desperately wish was Levi.
Chapter Six
Raina
“What a gorgeous night after the scorching day. I think even my eyelids were sweating.” Dean chuckles.
He’s carrying most of the conversation and hasn’t asked me why I was a blubbering mess ten minutes ago, which I appreciate.
I watch him over the rim of my coffee cup, his posture relaxed, his smile easygoing. There’s a lightheartedness about him as if you’ve known him forever, an old friend you never forget.
He looks different from Levi, my mind comparing the two. Dean’s lighter, his hair a dirty blond color and his eyes a bright bluish gray. He’s attractive in a boy next door sort of way with a killer smile.
“Your eyelids, huh? That’s a new one.”
Dean grins, that smile doing something I choose to ignore. “My mom used to always say it. It’s so hot out, Dean, your eyelids will sweat! She hated the heat.” He shakes his head and laughs. “She actually loved to be cold.”
“Really? I love the cold, too.”
“Yeah, you do?”
“Like your mom, I hate being hot. Bring on the chilly temps.”
“That’s too funny. I’ve never met anyone else who loved the cold. Don’t tell me you love snow, too.”
I chuckle, my mood slowly shifting. “Guilty as charged.” I hold my hands up and shrug.
Dean throws his head back and laughs, the sound infectious and lifting my mood even higher. How can one’s laugh be so therapeutic?
“Do you drive in it?”
I make a face. “Now, that’s where I draw the line. Sure, it’s beautiful, and I love watching it fall. But driving in it? Hell no.”
“Driving through a snowstorm is the worst. Getting stuck in a snowbank? Hell on earth.”
“I take it you have, then?” I smirk and take another sip of my coffee, happy I chose iced.
“Maybe…” Dean teases, his eyes playful, like a little boy with his trucks.
“That’s definitely a yes.”
“I admit nothing. Just hope you don’t ever get stuck in a car with me in a snowstorm.”
“Got it, thanks for the tip,” I joke as I finish my coffee. I want more, despite the time, but tomorrow is the first day of classes, so being up half the night would suck. “Thank you for the coffee and the friendly chat, but it’s late and classes start tomorrow. I need my beauty sleep.”
“Classes, hmm? Where do you go to school?”
“NYU.”
“Well, it looks like we have something in common. I graduated from there this past spring.”
“Really? Small world sometimes. Congrats on graduating. What did you major in?”
“Music production,” Dean says, and I freeze. No way. Seriously?
I wonder if he knows Levi.
Stop that train of thought right there before it goes too far.
“That’s awesome, honestly. I’m majoring in music production too. Well, kind of. Mine is more a concentration in songwriting.”
Dean breaks out into a wide smile. “You write songs? What classes are you taking?” He leans forward with excitement written all over his face. He looks like I just gave him his favorite piece of cake he’s never allowed to have. “Are you minoring in anything?”
“Whoa, too many questions.” His enthusiasm is cute, and he has my interest piqued. Maybe he works somewhere and has connections. I like to keep my songwriting private, but I know it’s time to change that. I’ll never get anywhere without putting my words out there. I survived poetry night. Only onward and upward right?
Who knows, but it’s a good connection to have. For both me and—
I stop myself.
Stop thinking about him.
It’s all about you now, Rai. Not his best interests, but yours.
But how do you change your way of thinking when your heart still beats for him?
When your mind is consumed with thoughts of him all day every day?
“I’m minoring in lyrical composition. It sort of goes hand in hand with my concentration in songwriting. My classes last year were mainly core classes, so I’m excited for this year.”
“Yeah, freshman year is a total bummer. I got stuck with physics in my second semester with one of the worst professors, and I barely passed. I think I had the lowest passing grade or some shit.”
“Physics is the worst. I hated it in high school. I can’t imagine tackling it on a college level.”
“Can you believe people actually major in it?”
“No, that shit is for the birds.” I make a face, and Dean throws his head back in laughter again. I love how loud and carefree his laugh is, a feel-good energy radiating off him.
“What class are you most excited about?”
“Lyrical poetry. It starts tomorrow.”
“It sounds interesting.”
“I think lyrics are their own type of poetry, written in a way that tells a story with hidden meanings set to music.”
Dean nods in agreement, his eyes lit up from his genuine smile. “I like that.”
“Thanks.” I return his smile and grab my bag next to me, sliding to the edge of the booth. “It was great meeting you, but I really have to go.”
“Wait. Can we hang out again?”
I look up to find his eyes on me, his kind, hopeful face making it hard to say no. What would it hurt, right? I haven’t had time to make a connection yet business wise, or even find out where he works, so why not?
It could be a big opportunity for me.
Or I could be completely off base and making a fool of myself.
But what would seeing him one more time really hurt?
“I work for a music production company. If you ever wanted me to check out a demo tape or maybe bring it to work, I could help,” Dean offers.
And there’s my answer.