Page 3 of West (The Moral Compass 1)
I look up and realise I’ve passed the coffee shop, so I turn and head back. I open the door and walk in—straight into what can only be described as a solid wall.
Fuck, Sutton. Watch where you are walking.
“Woah, woah, what’s the rush?”
Oh no, it’s the voice, the one that with only a few words has me sweating like a forty-eight-year-old going through menopause.
“Hmmm, you’re the lovely lady from before. Are you following me?”
“Oh shit, no, I’m not. I was on my way here for my coffee, then you stopped me in my daydream, then I realised I’d missed the coffee shop, so I came back. I didn’t know you were in here. Obviously.”
Seriously, Sutton. Shut the fuck up. What are you doing? You’re rambling on like a complete idiot.
I realise I’m making a complete tit out of myself, and I have a decision to make: either stay in line and get my coffee or run for the hills, get on the train, and don’t look back.
I feel the heat burning up my neck and warmth pooling in my nether regions. Is it worth the risk of completely embarrassing myself and missing my train? After all, this line is huge. I glance down and blush.
And so is he. Huge in more ways than one.
He must sense the quiz show going on in my head.
“Are you okay? You look a little wired.”
“I’m fine, thank you. Just deciding whether to risk waiting in line or going ahead and waiting for my train. I can’t miss it. Big job interview, you see.”
Shut the fuck up, Sutton. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you so desperate to tell this guy your fucking life story?
“Oh, I see. If it helps, you can go before me in the line. I’m not in any mad rush. I have twenty minutes before my train arrives,” he kindly offers, looking straight at me with a smile.
A million-dollar fucking smile. Jesus, why can’t I meet a guy like this when I’m not rushing, looking like a sweaty distracted fool. Where are they when I’m on a night out and had plenty of Dutch courage? That’s the point, Sutton, they don’t go to the shit places you do.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t suffer from absent seizures, do you?”
He’s looking at me differently now as if he is concerned or something. Probably because I didn’t answer his question, and I’m standing staring at him like I’ve never seen anyone so hot in my life.
“No, I’m fine. Honestly. I’m only getting a latte. My best friend pulled a pretty major prank on me this morning, and now I’m completely off my game. I need to pull myself together if I’m going to make anything of today. Thanks for asking though. Meeting you has made this day better already.”
Sutton, shut up! This guy does not want to listen to your drama-rama life.
He’s next to be served, and he orders one of those mentally challenging coffees, a latte, and a weird smoothie. I’m half-hoping the latte is for him. He looks like a straightforward type of guy.
Yeah, that’s got to be his drink.
I wait patiently behind him, and as he gets his drinks he steps back and says, “Here, that’s for you. Hope your day starts to improve from here on out.”
I look at him, stunned. It’s only a coffee, but no one has ever done anything like that for me before. I’ve heard about people doing it through drive-throughs where they pay for the order of the car behind them. It’s a trend called paying it forward. A good one at that.
“Oh, fuck, you’re hot!”
Shit, Sutton, that was your out-loud voice.
I can feel my face burning up, and I can’t believe that my out-loud voice is being so forward.
“Sorry, I meant the coffee is hot.”
I look at the coffee and then at him again. He’s so big. Like,tallbig.Broadbig. And he’s dressed like he just stepped out of a designer menswear catalogue: A smart blue suit with a tiny maroon pinstripe that I would’ve missed if I wasn’t so up close and personal. Dark hair and dark eyes that I could just fall into. I inhale his heavenly, masculine scent. The server makes a grumbly coughing noise and then asks for us to move along.
“Sorry, sorry, yes, of course,” I stutter. We move out of the way. I look up at him again and boy is it up. He must be way over six feet tall. “Thank you. You didn’t need to do this, but thank you.”
