I hold the cup in front of the coffee urns, stumped. Sophie always gets his coffee. I didn’t even start addressing him until he started undressing her. Truthfully I just enjoyed watching while she fumbled over helping him every week. Not in a heartless way, I don’t mean that. It was delicious watching them. She was so dazzled by him she’d almost trip over her own feet filling his coffee once a week. And Luke? His eyes would trail her every move while her back was turned.

I glance over at them again and sigh in delight. I’m so proud of her for fucking her gynecologist. That takes some guts and I have to admit it, I was wrong. When I bumped into her after her appointment at the student clinic last month and she told me the clinic doctor that day was none other than the well-dressed hottie who came in for coffee every Tuesday? Hell, I thought I’d never see his face in Grind Me again, or I’d never see Sophie’s face while he was in the store. But look at them now. Adorable.

“Luke, which roast do you want?” I interrupt their murmuring, tilting the empty cup in their direction.

“I’ll have the donkey roast,” he deadpans.

I hold back a smile while Sophie covers her eyes with her hand. I’m impressed. I didn’t think Luke had that in him. He’s kinda serious. I fill his cup with dark roast because it’s the closest thing I can come up with, and, snapping a lid on it, place it on the counter.

He leaves a moment later and I catch him swat her ass on the way out. She returns to the other side of the counter with a dreamy look on her face before she sees me and remembers I outed her talking about his donkey dick in the first place.

“I’m never telling you anything again. Ever.” She glowers at me, but I’m not too concerned.

“Please, you just made the old man’s day.”

“Stop calling him old.” She rolls her eyes. “Sawyer must be about the same age? He’s older than Finn, correct?”

“Older than Finn, younger than Luke,” I quip, but she’s back to staring off into space with a little grin on her face. She’s got it bad.

Thirty-One

“Chloe, promise me you’re not going to stay inside studying all weekend.” I’m tossing things into an overnight bag while Chloe has her head buried in the laptop on her desk.

“Promise,” she says, holding her hand up over her head with her fingers crossed.

“Ugh, Chloe.”

“Ugh, Everly.”

We stare at each other, neither of us speaking. Finally she breaks.

“There will be plenty of time for fun in a few months. After I’ve graduated and secured employment.”

“Secured employment,” I repeat. “You sound like you’re sixty.”

She leans back in her chair and sticks her tongue out at me. “Whatever. What are your plans after graduation?”

Shit. I have no idea. “Um, I’m gonna communicate stuff,” I say and nod confidently.

“Have you checked the employment ads lately to see what you might be interested in?”

“No, Chloe, it’s December.” She’s so annoyingly practical.

“Maybe Sawyer can hire you.” She shrugs and I flinch. That’s not what I want. I know she doesn’t mean anything by the comment, but it stings. I’m not waiting around with a fantasy plan of Sawyer giving me a gratuitous job or proposing so I can avoid finding employment altogether. I am going to get my act together. I always do.

“I’ll figure out what I want to do before we graduate, Chloe. I just don’t know yet. I’m not like you. I haven’t wanted to be a teacher since the first grade when Mrs. Stowe let you be her teaching assistant for a day.”