she wants all the time, and you wouldn’t even let me play what I wanted once,” Tobin whines from behind the espresso machine.
Nick runs a hand over his face. “That’s because I’m not going to play a five-hour loop of ambient whale sounds, Tobin.”
“But it’s so chill,” Tobin says, handing a latte to a customer.
I smirk and turn back to my computer, but Chloe whips off her apron. “Okay, it’s my break, so feel free to change it back to your Crying Alone playlist.”
“No more yacht rock!” Nick shouts.
“Come on,” Chloe says, grabbing my arm. “We’re gonna go get a closer look at your new workplace.”
“I’m in the middle of typing this sentence—” I say as Chloe pulls me out of my chair. I manage to bring my coffee along because I have a feeling I’ll need caffeine to fortify me for this.
“I’m nervous to get too close,” I whisper to Chloe as we walk, my breath puffing in the air.
“Why are you whispering?” she asks.
“I don’t want anyone to hear me and know how nervous I am!” I hiss. But she has a point—it’s ten A.M., and there aren’t even that many people on the brick sidewalk. Almost everyone is at work, although there are definitely some people standing right at the edge of the caution tape, looking at what appears to be nothing more than a few guys in winter coats milling around.
Chloe sighs. “This is way more boring than I expected. I guess I thought, like, Drew Danforth would be right there, and we could shamelessly ogle him for the remainder of my break.”
“The chances of him being shirtless in this weather are slim, you know.”
She looks wistfully out into the street. “A girl can dream, Annie.”
Staring at my future place of employment is making me feel kind of shaky, so I link my arm in hers. “Come on. Let’s go make fun of Nick for the next fifteen minutes.”
I spin us around and immediately collide with a wool-coat-clad chest. My coffee flies out of my hand and drenches the person in front of us.
“Whoa!” he shouts, and when I look up I topple backward.
It’s Drew Danforth.
Chapter Five
“Are you okay?” he asks, grabbing my arm and pulling me off the ground.
I wouldn’t describe myself as someone who is normally at a loss for words. I mean, I write for a living and as a passion. I have no problem making small talk with strangers, and I can handle myself at parties. But right now, the only words running through my mind on a loop are Holy shit.
I blink a few times, staring straight into Drew Danforth’s face. It’s like when you’re a kid and there’s a solar eclipse, and all the teachers are like, “Don’t look directly into the sun! You’ll destroy your retinas!” but there’s always that one kid (Johnny Berger, in our class) who can’t stop staring.
In this situation, I’m Johnny Berger. And I guess Drew Danforth is the sun.
“Are you okay?” he asks again, enunciating his words even more, as if my understanding him is the problem. His brown eyes, I notice, are flecked with tiny bits of gold, which is something you can’t see when you watch him on TV. His hair is just as voluminous as it seems in pictures, but in person, I have the almost overwhelming urge to touch it, to reach out and pull on that one lock of hair that hangs over his forehead.
“She’s not responding.” He turns to Chloe. “Is something wrong?”
“She’s French,” Chloe says without missing a beat. “She only speaks French.”
“I’m not French,” I say, breaking my silence. Chloe’s and Drew’s heads swivel to look at me.
“I’m sorry about your coat,” I whisper, then I run toward Nick’s.
Chloe bursts in the door behind me, the bell jingling in her wake. “I’m not French?” she screeches. “Those are the first words you spoke to Drew Danforth? Really?”
“Well then, why did you tell him I was French?” I shout, ignoring the curious stares of everyone working on their laptops and the calming melody of whatever Nick put on to replace the Doobies.
“I don’t know!” She throws her hands in the air. “You weren’t talking, so I thought I’d give you an interesting backstory!”
I put my hands over my face. “This is ridiculous.”
“No,” Chloe says, grabbing me by the shoulders. “This is your meet-cute, and now you need to go back out there and find him and say something that isn’t a negation of your Frenchness or an