CHAPTER 2 The Golden Boy
1027 Words
Ivy
The student union smells like espresso and cinnamon. Twinkle lights dangle across the ceiling beams, and paper snowflakes spin lazily from the air vents. Finals week has turned the café into a second library. Laptops are everywhere, students are hunched over flashcards, music plays under the hum of quiet conversation. I wish I could be studying with them, but my scholarship only covers so much.
I tie my Northvale Café apron around my waist and push through the swinging door to the counter. The coffee machine hisses like an angry cat. I've been on shift since dawn, after a midnight shift at the library. My eyelids feel like sandpaper, and I struggle to keep them open.
"Next," I call, plastering on my fakest smile.
Two frat boys elbow their way to the register. Both with red cups in their hands, still half-drunk from the night before. I recognize one of them from the hockey team and the other from my English class. He is the one always sleeping in the back.
They look me up and down with a smirk as they pull their phones from their pockets. I pretend like I am not going to be the butt of their next joke. "How can I help you today?"
"Caramel latte, extra whip," one slurs. His eyes narrow on my nametag. "And maybe your number, Ivy?"
I stiffen uncomfortably, my fake smile falling from my lips. "Caramel latte. Anything else?"
"Yeah," the other one says. "Smile, sweetheart."
My frown deepens further. "Sorry. All out of smiles."
He folds a dollar in his hand and reaches over the counter, stuffing it into my apron. "That should earn us a little smile."
My cheeks burn, and my hands itch to reach across the counter and slap him. Instead, I tilt my head down, reaching for a cup, focusing on my handwriting instead of their laughter. I should be used to it by now, but it never seems to get any easier.
"Move," a new voice cuts in, the tone low and firm.
The two frat boys turn. Towering behind them stands a guy in a hockey jersey, broad shoulders and beautiful dimples. He has the kind of smile that should land him on magazine covers. Cole Harding. Hockey star. Campus royalty. The Golden Boy.
"Is there a problem?" Cole asks. He keeps his voice level, not quite a threat, but a challenge all the same.
The boys shuffle from foot to foot and mutter under their breath. "Nah." They slink off toward the condiment bar, but keep their eyes on me.
Cole shifts his attention to me. Up close, his eyes are a startling pale gold with perfect flecks of green. His hair is mussed like he'd just come from practice, snow still melting on his shoulders.
"Are you okay?" He asks.
"I'm fine." I turn back to the register, not daring to look into his eyes again. "What can I get you?"
He leans on the counter, studying me like he is trying to place where I fit into his life. "Just coffee. Black."
I ring it up and pretend like I don't know him. "Name?"
He smirks, and the dimple in his cheek deepens. "Cole."
Everyone on campus knows his name, but protocol is protocol. "Okay," I say, scrawling it on the cup.
He pays in cash and drops a tip into the jar. A twenty, not a one, and steps aside. He watches me as I make his coffee, like he is trying to memorize my movements.
As I hand him his coffee, our fingers brush together lightly. Static jumps between us, a snap that makes me inhale sharply. His eyes flicker to mine, and a frown tugs at his lips. He turns quickly, disappearing through the front door, and my eyes stay glued to it. Hoping he will come back in.
I stand at the counter for a full minute before realizing the frat boys have left without their drinks. I turn to the expression machine with shaking hands. Cole's scent clings to me: pine and musk. With each inhale, it is getting harder to breathe.
Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I spin to find Jane standing behind me. "I've got it from here. Go get some rest."
I breathe a sigh of relief. "Thanks."
Stepping from the student union, I pull my thin, fraying gloves over my hands.
"Hey," a deep voice calls out to me.
I turn to see Cole leaning against the corner of the building. My eyes widen, and I wave my hand stupidly in his direction. "Hi."
Before I can do something else embarrassing, I turn quickly, heading in the wrong direction, but Cole jogs to keep up with me. His eyes my gloves before peeling his own leather pair from his hands. "Take these. It's freezing out."
I blink. "I can't."
He shoves them into my hands. "You can. I've got others."
My fingers wrap around the gloves, and I swallow hard. "Thank you."
He smiles, and not the cocky grin from the hockey posters, but something softer. "You're welcome, Ivy."
My head jerks up. "How do you know my name?"
His finger taps my chest. "Name tag."
I notice the way his skin crinkles around his eye when he smiles, and I catch myself smiling back at him. When I realize my eyes are boring into his face, I quickly look to the ground.
"Right," I mutter as heat creeps up my neck.
"See you around," he says before tapping the gloves in my hands. "Stay warm."
He spins around and disappears into the snow. I watch him saunter off, dumbfounded at the whole interaction. "What was that?"
The snowflakes have thickened and they cling to my eyelashes as I walk down the sidewalk. A dark shape moves across the opposite side of the quad, and I blink the crystals away from my eyes. Surely I am seeing things, because it is taller than any student. It stops moving when it sees me watching. Staying as still as a shadow among the spruce trees. Our eyes locked together.
But when I blink, it is gone.
- Writer
