Page 15 of The Game
Cole bought me a hot chocolate with marshmallows and crunchy peppermint sprinkles, and it smells glorious when Isink my nose into the warmth. I take a sip, rolling the smooth chocolate around in my mouth, letting it coat my tongue in comfort before I swallow it down, chewing on the marshmallow. There’s a surprising burst of mint when I bite down on the soft pillow.
I groan. “That’s amazing. We don’t have peppermint marshmallows at All Capps. I’m going to double down on flavored marshmallows when I’ve got my own place.” Did I just say that? The sugar must have gone to my head.
He takes a sip of his own, eyes rolling back in his head. “Fuck yeah. That is delicious. Good choice.”
“Well, I am a bit of an expert. You might say.” He laughs at my exaggerated wink.
“You mentioned before that you want your own place. So, you want to run your own coffee shop. Is that your plan after graduation?”
My guard flies up. It always makes me nervous talking about my business dreams. People are so quick to shit on them and tell me how hard it is to start your own business and how many restaurants fail in their first year.
I study his face, searching for the doubt, the skepticism that I always see when I talk about this, but there’s nothing but interest. Eagerness even, in those eyes that match the rich chocolate color of my drink.
“That’s the dream. To own my own coffee shop. I know it might not be feasible right away. I’m going to have to work and save, but that’s my end goal for sure. And not just a coffee shop, you know. I want it to be a neighborhood spotwhere everyone is welcome. I’d love to host local musicians for performances, and local authors for readings. My friend Jordan owns a bookstore and we’ve even talked about opening up a combo bookstore/coffee shop. One day. She’s a little further on than I am right now. Her mother owns Top Shelf here in town. Not sure if you know it.”
His head tilts to the side, eyes widening as he studies me. “I know it. That’s Aspen Ellory’s girlfriend.”
“Oh. You know Aspen?” I do a double take, narrowing my eyes. Those muscles stretching his thin black sweater look like they belong on an athlete. But I know a lot of the hockey guys through Jordan, and I’ve never seen him around. Maybe he knows him from somewhere else.
A shadow passes across his face, deepening the grooves. His features would be almost harsh if it weren’t for those full lips that might be even considered kissable if I was looking for that kind of thing.
“Uh, yeah. I’m on the hockey team with him.”
“Really? What’s your last name? I know some of the guys through Jordan, but I haven’t seen you around.” Heat creeps up my neck. Is he going to think I’m prying or that I’m some weird fan girl?
“It’s Schaeffer. Yeah. I don’t hang out with the team that much.” He presses his lips together, leaning back in his chair.
Schaeffer. There it is. I’ve seen his name on the back of a jersey and there’s something else lurking at the back of my brain. Some gossip about him, but I can’t quite place what it is. I’m dying to probe. There’s a story there. But I can tell thisisn’t a question I’m going to get answers for right now, so I try for a little something else. This one I need answers to. I can’t see him again unless I know what’s going on with that girl. More drama is not something I need in my life. “Tell me why you invited me here tonight.”
“I wanted some coffee.”
“Uh huh, and…” I lean in closer, letting him see that his evasion won’t cut it.
His chest rises and falls, the moon shining down through the window to highlight his features. Sometimes not saying a word is the best way to get people talking. Something I’ve learned from my years in customer service. I don’t always have a conversation at my fingertips, but if you let people talk, especially about themselves, they’re usually happy to fill in the blanks.
He sighs. “Her name is Charlene. She’s my ex. From my old school.”
Their interaction makes more sense in that context. The way she was touching him was familiar with an edge of possessiveness, while he had a kind of trapped look on his face. Now I need to hear the story.
“I spent my freshman and sophomore years in Miami. We’d been dating for a while, but she did some things, and I broke up with her right before I left to move here.”
Miami? Wow. That’s a long way to run from someone. His gaze falls to the cup he’s holding, pausing to take a sip. There’s a vulnerability to the gesture that I understand, like he’s backin that moment. Whatever it was that broke him. “What did she do?”
“She cheated on me. She’s not the same person she was when we first started dating.”
A pang hits me in the gut. “That is shitty. I’m so sorry. Is that why you left your team?” I reach over, but he pulls away when I drop a hand on top of his. My shoulders slump as I shrink away from him. I’m sure my entire face must be on fire now after the rejection.
He tilts his head up to stare at the high ceiling, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Part of it.”
There’s more to it, but we don’t know each other, so I don’t have the right to pry, especially not after he pulled away from me. He’s giving me an incomplete picture. I wonder why.
“How long did you date for?”
“Almost four years.” His gaze tracks over to the food court where they’re sliding metal gates down over the kiosks. When did it get so late?
“Four years. So, before college even? Wow.”
“Yeah. She was my first serious girlfriend.” He snorts. “Probably last.”