Page 20 of Please Open Me
With that in mind, I leaned on the glass-topped counter and read off the list to the pink-haired barista. I made sure to add two pumps of caramel syrup to Lucian’s black coffee because I knew he’d hate it.
Again, he’d be lucky if I didn’t spit in it.
He’d sent me with the company card, but money wasn’t much of an issue these days. The total popped up on the screen, but the girl didn’t even blink.
“Free of charge,” she said with a carefree smile. One that instantly soured with her next words.“Anything for God’s chosen son.”
I winced, unsure if I’d ever get used to that nickname. Still, I forced a tight-lipped smile and stepped to the side. This morning had already been rough—two hours of parroting everything Dale whispered in my ear. And as much as I hated to admit it, part of me liked the adoration.
For most of my life, I hadn’t even beenliked, let aloneworshipped. If I didn’t know what was really going on, I might’ve come to enjoy it.
Maybe I owed Cameron an apology for ever thinking he was stupid for falling into the cult.
I glanced up at the shiplap ceiling and tilted my head side to side, mulling it over. Before I could land on a verdict, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I drew in a sharp breath and pulled it out without even checking the notification. Which, honestly, would’ve saved me a lot of stress.
It was a photo of the back ofmyhead.
My pulse spiked. I looked left, then right, scanning the café for one of Dale’s lackeys, or someone from the church.
Then my rational brain finally kicked in, and I checked the sender.
My shoulders dropped.
Mason.
Sure enough, she was tucked into the corner booth. Her face lit up when I spotted her, and she gave a little wave. I returned it without thinking, already walking toward her, ready to ask what she was doing here and to steal a kiss.
Then I saw she wasn’t alone.
My steps slowed.
Short-cropped hair. Broad shoulders.
I pointed and mouthed,Who’s that?, not wanting to interrupt if this was a work thing.
Her smile widened, glowing like a fucking diamond. And I kept walking, happy just to bask in her light.
Ignoring the other person entirely, I bent down to kiss Mason. Her lips were sticky with a gloss that carried a faint citrus flavor. When I pulled away, I grabbed the lemonade sitting beside her and took a sip.
Sharing drinks had become one of those silent, habitual things between us. At first, I hated it, especially when she sipped from my coffee despite having one of her own. But now? There was something undeniably sweet about it. Begrudgingly, I’d grown to cherish it.
Finally, social norms forced me to acknowledge the other person at the table.
But instead of towering over her like a weirdo, I scooted Mason over and slid into the booth beside her. For the last few months, I’d been working on being more... approachable. Or at least less like I thought I was better than everyone else.
Even if I was.
But whatever cool confidence I’d managed to fake vanished the second I registered who I was sitting across from.
Short, slicked-back hair. Dark eyes. Foxlike features. Hard to forget, especially when I’d been face-to-face with her earlier this very morning.
The newcomer at the church. The one who looked me dead in the eye,despiteDale’s orders not to.
My stomach turned to stone. I hid the shake in my hands by folding them in my lap.
“Sebastian, this is Mattie,” Mason said, gesturing to the person beside her.
