Page 5 of Double Dared
CHAPTER TWO
harrison
I siftedthrough the sugar packs in a carved wooden holder on the table. Three separate brown sugar packets were slipped between the white ones. I removed one, opened it, and poured half a pack into my latte. I moved the other two to the brown side.
The café was a long room with mismatched tables and chairs, all wood and vintage cushions, handwritten menus, and bookshelves lining one of the long walls. The bar was a small section on the far end of the café, where one girl and one guy wore cute checkered aprons around their waists. They had a rickety toaster for making brunch sandwiches, a tray of small glasses for treats made of honey, yogurt, and toasted oats, a juicer, and their own carbonizer for sparking water that, oddly enough, tasted better than any carbonated water I’d ever had.
On a sunny day, the light would slant through the southern wall facing the street, filteringthrough the short, white curtains, and sitting there with your back to the street would warm you up like no space heater ever could.
Emma would push her legs before her, lift her arms high into the air, and stretch like a cat, almost purring with pleasure. She would then shake her wavy locks around her head and shoulders, look at me, and almost sigh, “This feels good.”
I blinked the mirage away and stirred my latte.
It wasn’t a sunny day today. My right side faced the window, and rain poured down the sheet of glass. What little light passed through the dark clouds above Whitmore Street was washed-out and pale. The lanterns on tables, windowsills, and nooks in the bookshelves gave warmth to the place on a day like this.
Some miserably dreamy part of me liked the rain. It liked the need for lanterns and nature’s own plethora of excuses for why you should sit indoors and read a book or watch a movie.
I licked the foam off my spoon and set it on the napkin next to my coffee. A few tables down, close to the entrance, a couple mooned over one another. They’d entered during the worst of the downpour. Now, her hands were in his, and his gaze on her lips, and their whispers were spoken so quietly and softly that I couldn’t even read their lips.
I hoped their feet were wet. Soaked, soggy socks and squeaky shoes and all.
The bell above the door rang, and my gaze dartedto the wavy-haired man who had taken up a dare to invite me on a date. Taylor wore a short black coat, faded jeans, dusty yellow sneakers sprayed with rain, and a dark blue sweater fitted to emphasize his athletic build. I had a strong suspicion he was straight and that this was as much a prank on him by his friends as it was a dare he would boast about later. There was, perhaps, only a pinch of curiosity there, because he was clearly going through with it.
He shook off his umbrella and dropped it into the basket at the entrance, then looked up to examine the space. His gaze swept the long room, then landed on me. The smile that appeared on his face was big enough to almost seem genuine. He wiped his hands on his pants and undid the only button on his coat as he strolled over to my table.
“You’re early,” he said.
“Am I?” I licked my lips and folded them to stop myself from pointing out that I’d only been fifteen minutes early, yet I’d been sitting here for fifteen.
“And you’ve ordered already.” Was that mild annoyance I could hear? He really was testing me. “I hope it’s cold by now.”
I laughed so unexpectedly that it came out as a snort. “Just sit down and let’s get this date going.”
“Charming,” Taylor said as he hung his coat over the back of his chair. He sat down, leaned back, legs sprawled under the table, one elbow resting on the windowsill like some sexy rogue. No, not sexy. Justbecause he was a good-looking guy my age, it didn’thave tomake him sexy in my view.
The rogue picked up the menu, frowned at the handwriting, and cocked his head. “Feels like ordering off a Pinterest board.” His gaze moved slowly over the options, and then he set it down. The server came along with his soft voice and shy smile, but Taylor hardly registered the mood. “I’ll have an Americano, thanks.”
“You are as straight as they come,” I said.
“I’m owed points for trying,” Taylor said. “And we can have an awesome date regardless.”
We waited for the Americano to arrive. The music was a classical piano in the very distant background, and I picked up on the scent of scones somewhere behind the bar. When the waiter came and went, Taylor tasted his coffee. “Wow, that’s nice,” he said. “And Lord Tennyson? Is he joining us?”
“Are you trying to make fun of me?” I asked, genuinely amused. “You should try harder.”
He laughed and shook his head. “How did you know? About the dare, I mean.”
“You mean your friends were being discreet about it?” I asked. “If that was the best they could do, I’m glad they stick with sports instead of acting.”
“Right. I guessed so. They couldn’t hold back the laughs.” Taylor shook his head sadly.
“What part about this is funny?” I asked.
Taylor ran a hand through his wavy hair, spilling locks to either side of his head. He had a slender face,long and defined, with a Cupid’s bow marking his upper lip and a very small and very peculiar bump in his otherwise straight nose. It looked like he had broken it years ago, and it did something to me I wished it wouldn’t. When he smiled, his mouth was big, and his lips stretched wide. When he frowned, his dark eyebrows twisted expressively. And when he was in thought, he bit his lower lip on the left side, which he should stop doing if he had a shred of mercy.
I was not here to be tickled by a hot guy who was off-limits.
“I think the part where they orchestrate for the only straight, single guy in the group to find the balls to ask a guy out on a date was their idea of humor,” Taylor said. “They’re not making fun of you, I promise.”
