“What did you get for number seven?” Alex asked as we waited in line at The Daily Grind, one of the cafés on campus.
“I have no idea. I kind of blocked everything after five out.”
Alex and I shared one class this semester: macroeconomics. We were both business majors, but he was doing a concentration in finance. I hated finance and had only taken the classes that were required to graduate, so we hadn’t had that many classes together over the years.
I should have known I’d hate this class, considering how much I’d struggled with microeconomics last year.
We’d had our first test of the year that morning, and I was sure I’d bombed it.
“It was only the first test. Only counts for five percent.”
I nodded grimly. If the first test had been that hard, I could only imagine how difficult the rest of the class would be.
I was a solid C student, with the occasional B. It wasn’t that I didn’t try. More that I lacked the motivation to try harder. I wasn’t planning on grad school, so a C was all I needed to graduate.
The person in front of us moved off to the side, and Alex stepped up to the counter.
“Hi, what can I get started for you?” the barista asked, flashing him a million-watt smile.
She was gorgeous and new. I would have remembered her.
“Can I get an iced white chocolate mocha and a salted caramel cold brew? Both large.”
“Coming right up. Would you like to add a cookie today? They’re fresh.”
“Are they?” He leaned against the counter as she wrote his orders on two cups.
“They are. I baked them myself.” She blushed prettily.
I rolled my eyes behind his back.
“Well, then I’ll definitely have to try one. Which is your favorite?”
“I love the red velvet ones.”
“Sounds perfect. Can you add two to my order?”
“Sure can.” She punched something into the till and read him his total.
He pulled out his wallet as she moved to the display case filled with various pastries.
“Can I get them in two bags?” He held up his card.
“Of course.” She pressed a button on the till. “It should be ready for you in a second.”
He paid, then tucked his card away.
“Here you go.”
“Can I borrow your marker?” He took the pastry bags from her.
“Sure.” She handed it to him, a curious expression on her pretty face.
As he wrote something on one of the bags, I looked over his shoulder, barely repressing a laugh.
He’d written his name and the phone number he used when he was interested in someone.
Alex was the only guy I knew who had two phones. His main one and a burner phone filled with random numbers. Very few of the randoms got added to his main phone. That was a sign he was serious about them, and Alex was never serious about anyone.
“For later,” he said, his voice as smooth as honey, and handed her the bag with his number on it.
She took it, her eyes wide as she glanced at the writing.
Alex moved down the counter to where one picked up their drinks.
The barista’s face was bright red as she tucked the bag into her apron pocket and turned to me.
“Can I get a cookies and cream cold brew and a mocha one? Both medium.”
“Sure.” She flicked her gaze to Alex, then looked back at me, blushing. “Sorry. You said cookies and cream and…”
“Mocha. Can I also add a chocolate croissant and a garlic parmesan scone to that?”
She punched in my order, stealing glances at Alex as she did.
I passed her a few bills, then stuffed the change into the tip jar.
She gave me the pastry bags, and I joined Alex at the end of the counter.
“Who’s the extra for? I already got Matt’s order,” he asked.
“Finn.”
“Finn?”
“Yeah, our roommate.”
“I know who he is.” Alex rolled his eyes. “I just didn’t know you were on coffee delivery terms.”
I didn’t know how to answer that.
We weren’t, not really.
We hadn’t had much contact since the night I’d busted him almost a week ago. We passed each other in the halls and around the house, but other than saying hello or a quick “how are you?” we hadn’t talked.
Why had I ordered coffee for him? I didn’t even know what he liked.
Finn was an interesting guy. He’d seemed so shy and quiet, but he’d opened up while we’d been chatting, and I’d enjoyed our conversation. It was nice to talk to someone about something other than partying or class.
I still felt bad for busting in on him. Maybe the coffee was a peace offering?
“Your order is up.” Alex elbowed me in the side as he opened a paper straw.
I jerked back to reality. I’d zoned out there for a second.
I grabbed two straws and picked up the drinks.
“Want to hit the Sigma Chi party tonight? It’s beach themed,” Alex asked as we headed out of the café.
“Isn’t every other Greek party beach themed this time of year?”
“Pretty much.” He grinned. “What do you say? Hot sorority girls in beachwear?”
“Nah.”
“Nah?” He shot me an incredulous look.
“Just not feeling that tonight.”
“How about Delta Chi? They’re having a 90s party.”
“Maybe.”
The Daily Grind was only about ten minutes from the house and on the way to campus, which was one of the main reasons we’d started going there last year. Thanks to its eclectic art theme and extensive menu, it was one of the more popular places on campus. I liked that it was a local place and not a chain.
“Are you okay?” he asked as we headed toward the house. “It’s not like you to be so indifferent to theme parties.”
I didn’t know how to tell him I was getting tired of the Greek scene. Alex partied harder than anyone I knew. He was responsible about it, never getting blackout drunk or hooking up with people he shouldn’t, but I didn’t get the same enjoyment out of it that he did. Parties could be fun, but after three years, they were starting to get repetitive. It might have been different if I had the kind of connections he did. Alex knew brothers at almost every frat. He was able to go to pretty much any party he heard about, whereas I’d mostly gone to open ones before Matt had moved into the house.
“Fine. I think I’m going to check out the mixer at the student center.”
“Really?”
I shrugged. “Want to hit the gym with me in a few hours?”
Both Alex and I had stacked our classes so macroeconomics was our only Friday class, and we were off at noon.
“Nah.” He took a sip of his drink as we waited at a crosswalk. “Ask Matt. You know he’s always up for a workout.”
It was true. Matt went to the gym every morning, even during baseball season when he was training daily.
“He’s too hardcore for me. I feel like a wimp next to him when he’s benching three fifty like it’s nothing, and I’m barely managing a few reps at two hundred.”
Alex snorted into his drink.
“The first week, I went with him once, and he challenged me to a run. Fucker went full out for nearly forty-five minutes and barely broke a sweat while I bailed after twenty and thought I was dying.”
“I had a buddy in high school who was an all-American football player. He was insane. Worked out twice a day, didn’t drink, didn’t eat junk food. His life was fitness.”
“No, thank you.” Alex grimaced as our street came into view. “I like burgers and chocolate too much for that.”
“He had NFL dreams. I’ve been keeping up with his stats, and I think he has a real chance of getting drafted. You have to be a machine for that.”
“I’ll take parties and beers over the life of an elite athlete. The money would be awesome, though. Imagine getting paid millions to play a game?”
“That would be pretty sweet.”
Alex motioned for me to go up the walkway ahead of him. It took some careful balancing, but I managed to shift the drinks in my hands so I could open the door.
As I stepped into the house, loud gunfire hit my ears.
Matt was in the living room engrossed in a game of COD.
“Coffee, fucker.” Alex put Matt’s drink on the table in front of him.
“Thanks,” he said distractedly, leaning sideways to look around Alex.
He rolled his eyes and flopped down on the couch next to Matt.
“Load up a two-player game.”
“Soon.” Matt didn’t take his eyes off the screen.
I left those two to argue and climbed the stairs to my room.
Finn’s door was closed, but music drifted through the hall.
I knocked.
Some shuffling, the music was turned down, and the door opened.
“Oh, hi.” Finn smiled.
“I thought you might need some caffeine.” I held out both drinks. “Cookies and cream, or an iced mocha?”
His face lit up. “I love the iced mochas at The Grind.”
I gave it to him, a warm flush moving through me as he thanked me.
“I didn’t know if you were a savory or sweet person, so I got a chocolate croissant, or a garlic and parmesan scone.”
“Really? Thanks so much. Maybe the scone?”
I dug the bag out of my hoodie pouch and handed it to him, along with a straw.
“How much do I owe you?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Are you sure?” He bit his lip. “I don’t mind.”
“It’s fine. I like anything, sweet and caffeinated. For future reference.” I winked.
He let out a little laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Do you have any plans tonight?” I asked.
“Um, not really.”
“Want to go to the mixer at the student center with me?”
“I’m not really into parties.”
“This is a mixer.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Mixers are quieter. No music, just mingling and having a few drinks.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
“They can be fun. And it would be a chance for you to meet some new people. Maybe a guy.”
He bit his lip.
“No pressure, but I’m an amazing wingman.”
He smiled, his blue eyes lighting up. “You are?”
“I am. My skills are legendary.”
“Ever wingmanned for someone like me?”
“Shy?” I teased.
He shot me a mock glare that made him look adorable.
“Gay.”
“Not gay, but my freshman roommate was bi. I helped him find his first boyfriend and his first hookup. I can get you some references, if you’d like.”
He laughed. “That won’t be necessary.”
“So, mixer yay or nay?”
“Yay.”
“Awesome. Be ready for nine.”
“I will. Thanks, Beck.”
“No need to thank me. I’ll see you later.”
A flutter of excitement shot through me, and I had no idea what to do with it. I liked Finn, could see us becoming friends, so why did my chest feel funny when I thought about going to the mixer with him?
