Jace smiles perceptively, and when the waitress brings our drinks out, his eyes finally leave my face. He reaches up to her tray and brings a mug and a water bottle down in between us. When he hands me the mug, I stare at the caramel-colored drink that has a frothy-like white top. It still feels a bit too warm to drink, so I place it on the table next to Jace to allow it to cool down. I look up when I can practically feel him laughing at me.

“It’s a chai tea latte.”

“I know,” I lie to him.

“No you don’t.” He laughs again. “You’re a coffee house virgin, aren’t you?” When I don’t respond, he gives me a sweet smile. Not one that is meant to ridicule, but just one that shows he’s trying to figure me out. “That’s cool, I’m glad I could be your first.”

My eyes bug out at his innuendo and I finally begin to laugh at myself. “I’m pathetic, aren’t I? I mean, who has never been to a coffee house?”

“Not at all, I’m finding you refreshing.”

His comment makes me blush, so I decide to change the subject. “How old are you?” I’m assuming he’s in high school because of the shirt he’s wearing, but it could just be from a past year. I watch as he takes a long pull from his water bottle and for some reason, the up and down movement of his throat as he swallows continuously mesmerizes me. Would it be weird to put my lips on his neck right now?

“Eighteen,” he replies. “You?”

I nod my head. “Just turned eighteen last week.”

“No shit? So did I. What day?”

“The fourteenth.”

He points to himself and says, “The thirteenth, beat you by a day!” His smile is infectious. “So what’s a gorgeous, eighteen year-old girl like you doing buying whiskey?” he asks, smirking.

I make a disgusted face. “I don’t drink, it’s for my dad.” I resolve to leave it at that. Telling him that I buy my dad liquor in the hopes that he won’t beat the crap out of me is not something I plan on sharing.

“You don’t drink? Seems like every high school kid around here does. I like that. I don’t touch the stuff either,” he says with a smile.

I’m assuming that we don’t indulge for vastly different reasons. I don’t drink because I’ve seen what it can do to a person and I’ve smelled the horror on my dad’s breath one too many times.

Fortunately, he doesn’t dig any deeper, instead asking, “So, did you just pay Oliver off like everyone else?”

“Pay him off? No, he doesn’t ask me to pay him,” I reply, confused.

If I had to pay the guy any more than what I already spend there, I wouldn’t be able to afford anything besides the whiskey. Without thinking, I reach into my purse, grab my cherry-vanilla chapstick, and spin the bottom. As I slide the balm against my lips, Jace’s eyes follow the trail.

“That jackass makes everybody pay him…” I watch him pause as I rub my lips together and he begins to study me. “Well… I guess you would be an exception.” His legs squeeze mine a little tighter.

Together we sit and talk for what seems like hours. We talk about future college plans and how boring high school is. We even have a debate over whether reading an actual book is better than reading from a device. I was rooting for the actual paper and spine book, but he trumped me by pulling out his smart phone and showing me how he had over two hundred books right in his back pocket.

Who would have thought a guy in high school would actually enjoy talking about books? I almost reach to grab his face in that moment, so I grab my drink instead and take the first sip.

Oh, that’s nice. I’ve never tasted anything like this before. It’s definitely not that black sludge my dad brews every morning. Although it’s long since cooled to a tepid temperature, the flavor is sweet and slightly spicy at the same time. Now I wish Jace hadn’t introduced this to me, because I’ll be lusting after this drink every time I pass this place in the future.

“This is fantastic!” I think I’m a little too excited over a drink, so I try to tone down the enthusiasm. “Great choice,” I say and smile up at him.

He watches me intently again. “Must be a chick thing. My mom always gets me to pick that up for her when I’m down here. I’m sure she’ll be proud to know it helped me pick up a girl.”

“Oh, is that what this is… a pick-up?” I ask, while trying to tamper down my obnoxious smile.

“Damn straight.” He leans down so our faces are only inches apart, and I can feel his breath lightly teasing my lips. In a low but firm whisper, he says, “I like you, Audrey. I plan to take you out and kiss you goodnight over and over until you agree to let me do it all again the next night.”

Floor. Puddle. Me. Holy hell.

I stay there, not daring to move an inch, in hopes that he’ll lean in and put me out of my misery, because his lips are entirely too tempting to be that close. I silently implore him to show me just one of those kisses he’s talking about. As if on cue, a loud buzzing begins to vibrate between us and I jump back, startled.

“Easy, gorgeous…” he says, his voice sounding a bit breathless. Maybe I’m not the only one affected here. “It’s just my phone.” He pulls it out and I watch as his fingers slide and tap continuously on the screen. “My brother put your groceries in the truck. He had to go into the bookstore.”

“I should really get going anyway. My parents are expecting me, and I don’t want the milk to get warm…” I trail off because I can feel the start of my nervous rambling, and let’s be honest, my parents are never expecting me.

JACE -

I nod my head and stand. Will I ever see her again? Does she want to see me again? Hell, I already sound like a whimpering, lovesick puppy. You would wreck this girl, Jace. She just seems so fragile, yet deep in her eyes I can see fierceness, and damn if I don’t want to unleash that.

When I grab her hand and lace my fingers through hers, she stands without hesitation and allows me to lead the way. I can’t even remember the last time I held hands with a girl. She seems to like when I take control though. I walk her back out to my truck, quicker than I mean to. I need to drag out this time I have with her.

“Do you need a ride home?” Please say ‘yes.’ I click the key fob and open the back passenger door, and then she reaches in to grab her paper sack. I want to ask her so many questions, like why paper? Is she an environmentalist? Does she not want to clog our landfills with more plastic? Because she seemed so adamant about it, almost as if she was frightened, and that’s the only conclusion I can come to right now.

“No, I’m just around the corner.”

I have to keep touching her, and I am not a touchy-feely guy. Who the hell is this girl? She has to be a witch. That has to be it. She must have cast a spell on me, because it’s the only way I can vouch for my actions around her. Christ, stop touching the poor girl! I can’t help myself, so I place my hands on her shoulders to keep her from leaving just yet. Shoulders are a safe-zone, right? I’m pretty sure I can still touch her here and it isn’t inappropriate.

“Can I have your number?” I ask, trying to recall the last time I actually had to ask a girl. Probably never, and even if I did, I sure as hell never called them. But she’s leaving and I’m panicking.

“No, but can I have yours?” she counters and smiles confidently up at me. Fuck, I’ll bet that smile gets her anything she wants.

I’m puzzled as to why she won’t give up her number, but I realize I have to go slow with this one. ‘Approach with Caution’ should be taped across her chest. Wait… screw that. Nobody better be touching that chest, except for me.

She continues smiling at me while I give her a half-cocked, questioning look as if to say, ‘What are you up to?’ I decide to let her have her way, reaching behind her into the truck to grab my notebook that has a pen tucked inside the metal spiral. She watches as I write my seven digits onto the lined paper and then tear it from the binding.

After I fold it into a small square, I think of another way I can touch her. Pathetic, I know. She’s still glancing at my hands holding the paper when I reach down and slowly slide it into her front jeans pocket, feeling the heat of her skin through the fabric. Damn, so close yet so far away. When my hand slips from the confines of the pocket, she releases a trapped breath. I’m willing to bet she liked that about as much as I did.

I instantly cup her face firmly in between my hands, because I need her full attention. “You don’t get to ditch me. I want to see you again.” I hope that the sincerity of my statement is getting through to those beautiful brown eyes.

“I won’t,” she whispers back.

I know that I must have a cocky grin on my face, but damn it’s nice to know how much I seem to affect her. “Well, I guess I’ll be the pitiful guy at home, waiting for a girl to call him,” I say, winking. “Bye, Audrey.”

She needs to walk away now before I kiss her. If I do, I’ll kiss her so hard her lips will bruise. She needs to walk away, but instead, she’s just staring at me with that hopeful look on her face. Then all at once, the look dies and she says, “Bye, Jace.”

Was she hoping that I would kiss her too? Before she can get out of arm’s reach, I pull her back in front of me. I need to know that I’ll see her again. “You know that party Cole West throws every year before school starts?” I ask, throwing out the first thing I can think of.

She doesn’t say anything for a long time, and I start to think about what I asked. It doesn’t seem like a hard question. Everyone knows about Cole’s parties. People in town gossip about them for weeks afterward. Every August around this time, his parents fly up to DC for business purposes and that giant house of his just begs for a party. I can picture Audrey now, wearing a bikini and all wet from swimming. Shit, she needs to answer me so I can divert my attention away from thoughts of tiny bikinis, water, and her body. She nods her head.