Page 6 of A Barista's Guide to Love & Larceny
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m not in too much of a hurry. Bit of an insomniac. I’m guessing you know the drill.”
“What gave it away?”
“Something in your eyes,” he answered, and a white-hot blue burst like a firework in Dani’s brain. The boy looked taken aback by his own response, adding hurriedly, “And the fact that you’re working the graveyard shift.”
Her blush spread from her ears to her freckly face, but he moved on as quickly as the blue dissolved, inspecting her name tag. “It’s Dani, then? Short for anything, or just as is?”
“Danica,” she said. “My mom’s an astrologer.” She was when she felt like it, anyway. “Big fan of the planet Venus.”
“Named after the morning star, huh? That’s lovely.” He grinned. “I’m Kass. Short for Lukas. After my father, who got first dibs onLuke, so obviously they had to get cute with a nickname for me.”
A soft mint green flashed this time—he was doing it again, saying more than he meant to. Dani gently redirected him. “Okay, Kass, what’ll it be?”
“I dunno, what’ve you got that would pair well with an energy spell? I’ve got a massive paper on xylophilous magical properties due Tuesday night, and I’ve barely started. It’s going to be a long night.”
Dani elected to ignore the word that sounded likexylophone. “Well, I just made a French press for myself, and there’s a cup or two left,” she said, sensing he was a black coffee sort of guy. “Darkest roast in town.”
“You must have read my mind. You’re not a telepathy major, are you?”
Dani shook her head, unhooked a mug from the rack overhead, and gave him a generous pour, no room for cream. “I prefer for people to tell me what they’re thinking.” She took the bill he offered and rang him up.
“I never could get the hang of any kind of psychic skill. I’m a spellcraft major, hopeless with any kind of divination.”
Yet another reason she wouldn’t have seen him. Spellcraft meant mages; it was one of the university’s smallest and most exclusive departments.Magewas a catchall term for a magic user who didn’t need tools or components to conduct their spells. Theoretically, anyone could do it, but becoming a mage took real aptitude and a ton of work—like years and years of grad school. The degree got you a serious salary, though, and job security like she would never know.
“Fancy.” Dani spilled his change into his palm and felt the tingle of natural magic when his skin touched hers. He was a mage, all right, if the shapeshifting hadn’t been enough of a hint.
“What are you studying?”
A dreaded question for Dani. Since she’d been admitted to the Leap on a provisional basis, she hadn’t been accepted to any particular program, like the majority of her classmates were. Part of her defense at the end of the school year would involve justifying her future course of study. So right now, she technically didn’t have a major. But it was easier not to explain all that.
“Oracular studies.” As the child of two clairvoyants, it was the obvious choice. “No idea what my concentration is going to be, though. I can do a decent aura reading, pull a passable tarot spread, draw a basic birth chart… a little bit of everything and a whole lot of nothing.”
“That’s called being a generalist,” Kass said, and the absolute lack of judgment in his tone made something in Dani melt a little. “You’ll figure it out.”
“Thanks,” she said, smiling. “I’m trying.”
He slipped a ten into the tip jar before pocketing the rest of his change. “Say, you don’t look too busy in here.” He glanced around the empty shop. “Want to be my study buddy?”
Dani paused. She was entirely certain Burren, her third-wave coffee snob of a manager, would not approve. But the only way Burren would find out was if the door-ghost tattled, and Dani had the utmost confidence that he would not. Indeed, she had the utmost confidence that he did not realize he was in a coffee shop at all, much less that there were employees to tattle on.
“You can sit facing the door so you’ll see anyone who comes in,” Kass added. “I won’t mind if you have to abandon me for a cappy or two.”
As she considered it, she realized her anxiety from the run-in with Silva had been transmuted into a different kind of energy—the buzz of excitement. What was the harm? She’d already pre-closed the pastry case and done all the dishes.
“Sure.” She smiled. “Pick a table, and I’ll get my things.”
In the time it took her to join him out front, Kass had made himself at home. He had chosen their most sumptuous table, meant for larger groups, and covered more than half of it with books and papers like a war room. From the looks of it, the war had been going on for a while. Some of those books must have been centuries old; Dani could smell their musk as she got closer.
“What’s this paper on, again?” She set her coffee and scones on her side of the table before taking a seat and sliding her bag off her shoulder to the floor. “Ancient dust and mold?”
Kass gave her an apologetic look, which happened to increase his adorableness by an exponent of six. Dani observed that this was both intensely unfair and, from an evolutionary standpoint, incredibly useful. “It’s on the variations of xylophilous magical properties in different species throughout North America,” he said, as though it were a sentence any normal person might say. “With a special interest in alpine ecosystems. Trees at that altitude tend to have somewhat, how do I put this…arcanequalities, much of which are yet to be understood.”
“No kidding,” Dani said. “I barely understood a word you just said. Except trees. I have a vague idea of what trees are.”
Kass ducked his head like a puppy that’d been caught playing with a cat instead of chasing it. “Damn,” he said. “I’ve shown my hand too soon. You weren’t supposed to find out until we were already friends and beyond the point of no return.”
Already friends.Like their future was assumed. “Find out what?” she said. “That you’re weirdly into trees?”
