“I can read,” she smarted.
“Huh?”
“Your name tag, genius. You wear one every day on that ugly green apron.”
Oh, duh. Here I was thinking she took the time to learn my name when in actuality an occupational hazard was to blame. “Well, in that case . . .” What? I froze, devoid of a clever comeback. What could I say to get this girl to stay a little longer and to stop hating me. I was out of pick-up lines or anything worthy of what this feisty girl was looking for.
But I was also saved by the bell, or in this case the crash of thunder that forced Greta back into my arms. The world—or our tiny Starbucks bubble the two of us inhabited at the moment—turned pitch black.
“Ezra? What the hell was that?” The sprightly, smartass demeanor I was so fond of dissipated with every second she pressed herself into the protection of my body.
Underneath a soggy shirt, my heartbeat picked up. I prayed it wouldn’t give me away, but when I finally mustered enough courage to reciprocate her embrace, I felt her shivering.
I cleared my throat of gravelly nerves and explained as if it weren’t obvious, “Lights must’ve gone out.” No shit, Sherlock.
But she didn’t retreat or retort the way I imagined she would. I relished the momentary peace and quiet between us. I closed my eyes—although there was no need in the darkness provided by the storm—and sucked in the deliciousness of her rain dampened scent. Strawberries and cream mixed with a tinge of earthy steel.
I could’ve stayed like that all night, just to get closer to this mystifying woman. Funny how in my arms she no longer felt like a stranger. She’d let down her guard; that had to count for something because nothing about Greta screamed damsel in distress. From the little I’d observed, she was meek but confident. Independent yet delicate. Damn, did I want to know more.
Against my better judgment, I cleared the silence before I took the liberty of indulging in what had become my most current craving. “You okay, sweetheart?” I hated how the endearment slipped off my tongue so cheaply. She deserved better, but was I really supposed to call her Greta when I knew damn well that wasn’t her name?
She backed away, her hands against my chest for support, and I could make out the silhouette of her face looking around the darkened room. “Yeah. Sorry about that. Not a big fan of thunderstorms.”
“Yet you braved this one to get your charger? I’m not complaining, but couldn’t it have waited till tomorrow?”
She scratched her head and then put her hands in front of her, feeling around the room. “I was on a roll. The idea of calling it a night because my Mac had no more juice seemed kind of . . . amateur. Plus, I planned on pulling an all-nighter so I thought I’d grab another latte.”
I followed her around like a lost puppy even though my eyes were adjusting to the darkness and the familiarity of my home away from home. “Aw, come on. You can admit it already, Grets. You wanted to see me again.”
She stopped dead in her trek around the opaqueness of the store, causing me to bump into her. “I should’ve known you couldn’t control yourself for more than a minute.” She huffed, then squealed a frustrated, “Ouch!” and turned back around. “Stupid chair! Don’t you have any flashlights, or candles?”
“I might,” I joked, taking advantage of her exasperation simply because I could.
“Seriously, dude? Why are you doing this to me?” Even in the dark I could tell her nose was crinkled and her hands were at her hips.
“Doing what to you?”
“Being so . . . so . . . aggressive and elusive and . . .”
“Oh, no. Don’t stop. Please continue. You seem to have painted quite a colorful picture of me.”
By this time, we’d reached the far end of the store where upholstered booths lined the wall. She plopped down on one and grumbled. “I know nothing about you.”
I sat next to her, keeping a safe distance so as not to piss her off further, although what I was about to say would surely do the trick. “I could totally change that, you know.”
Her arms flew into the air and landed in her lap with a loud slapping sound. “See what I mean!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You walk right into it, honey. I’m resourceful.”
“You’re relentless.”
“I never said I wasn’t.” She had no idea how much restraint I’d exhibited around her. But now I had her right where I wanted her. I might as well pull out all the stops. Go big or go home, Ezra. No time like the present. She’ll either clock you or kiss you.
Exuding my sexiest smolder, I raked my hand through my still damp hair and rested comfortably against the booth’s cushioning with my hands behind my head. “Welp, since it looks like we’re stuck here for a while, whadda ya say we kiss and make up?”
Greta remained silent, dejecting my come-on save for the heavy, irritated flow of her breathing. Her hands flew to her waist and she chomped down on her bottom lip so hard I imagined she’d gnaw through it. It shouldn’t have turned me on, but goddamn was she sexy when she was mad.
I stifled another bout of gratuitous laughter only to jump out of my skin at the sound of a crash and shattering of glass that came next. “What the fuck is going on here tonight?” I yelled, my attention darting to the source of the smash. One of the small windows on the side of the store had blown out. Out of nowhere.
Greta scooted closer, wrapping her legs over mine and anchoring me to my seat. I stared down at those bare legs—still dotted with raindrops but smooth and tempting. My hands itched to stroke them from ankle to apex. My mouth watered at the thought and I suppressed a guttural growl. I wanted her. I wanted her so fucking bad.
In that moment, the safety of the store—and both of us—should have been my priority. What I should have done was find the reason for the broken window.
But that’s not what I did.
Instead, I gripped Greta’s tiny waist with ravenous hands and lifted her off the seat beside me. In one swift movement, she was straddling me, our mouths inches apart. She didn’t speak and neither did I. The only sound filling the room was our ragged breathing and the rain hammering the pavement outside.
With one last inhalation of her sweet, intoxicating scent, I crashed my mouth over hers and nearly lost control of all sense and sensibility when she didn’t object.
HER FINGERS DUG into my scalp and then traveled to my face with feather soft caresses over my scruff as she deepened the kiss. Her legs coiled around my waist as she ground her core against mine. Her moans filled the dim and otherwise quiet room, as she nipped and sucked and drove me mad with her lips.
She was also the one to stomp on the brakes just when things were getting good. “Stop. No. We can’t.” Her words came out in breathy spurts, her ribcage rising and falling underneath my grasp.
I didn’t want to let go, or to stop, but she clearly had other plans. “No, no, no. Keep going. We get along so much better when we’re not talking.” I leaned forward to connect with her succulent, seductive lips again, but she backed away and practically catapulted off my lap.
“I’m not this girl. I don’t . . . This isn’t . . . I have to go.”
Fortunately for me, another bang of ear-splitting thunder ripped through the silence, causing Greta to return to the safety of my greedy arms.
I nuzzled my nose into the crook of her neck. It was an intimate act, but I couldn’t help myself. If she kept jumping into my arms, I’d be an idiot not to take advantage. Or maybe I was a creep because I was taking advantage. Either way, we were here together and I was nothing if not an opportunist. But rather than try my luck and risk a swift kick in my manhood, I opted for actually daring to learn a bit about her. “Can I ask you a silly question?”
“Mmm hmm.” She nodded, staring at the tempered glass window that was no longer a solid sheet but a web of crushed glass. The broken pieces created a beautiful sea of iridescence as the moonlight glinted off the rain-dropped fragments.
I ran my hands up and down her ar
ms, fingering the prickle of goose bumps that coated the bits of skin exposed by her rolled up sleeves. Deep down I hoped I was the cause for the gooseflesh, but I knew her damp clothes were probably the reason for her chills. “You’re obviously petrified of thunderstorms, right?” I finally asked.
“Clearly,” she grumbled in response.
I stifled a laugh and continued. “Then what in the world ever made you think you’d be okay in a storm like this? I know you’re hell bent on getting your charger and finishing up whatever it is you’re working on, but for someone so freaked out by thunder, you could’ve waited. I tucked it away in a safe place. I knew you’d eventually be back.”
“Must I repeat myself?” she sighed. “I told you. I’m on deadline. You wouldn’t understand . . .” This time her voice was low as it trailed off.
She was right. I didn’t get it. “So, why don’t you make me understand? Let’s start with: what exactly is this project that has you on such a strict time constraint that you’d confront a storm and one of your biggest fears?”
With her arms wrapped around herself she stood, leaving my arms with that empty, lonesome feeling again. “That’s just the thing. I’m facing yet another huge fear by working on this project.” It was a bold statement that made me want to unravel more of her mysterious charm. To say I was intrigued was an understatement.
“Well, brave lady, spill it. Or are you planning to keep me guessing, like with everything else about you?”
Before she could respond with a snarky quip, a slash of bright light illuminated the sky, and her gaze snapped to the window to ready herself for the boom that was sure to follow. When it didn’t, she glanced my way and arched a brow, a slight smile creeping onto the corner of her lips. “Could it be over?”
This chick was a master of distraction, I had to give her that. She darted to the front door with childlike excitement, only to be slammed with disappointed when the door failed to reward her with the freedom she was obviously hoping for. “Uh, Ezra?”
I shot up from the booth when I realized she wasn’t simply making a show of pushing the door with all her might and getting nowhere.
“Well, ain’t this grand.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. We were locked inside thanks to a mammoth-sized tree branch that must have snapped off in the storm and landed, yep, you guessed it, right in the path of our escape.
Before I could even appreciate the humor in the situation or say a silent prayer to whoever was in charge of my and Greta’s fate, she was shrieking. “This is some kind of trick, isn’t it? You . . . you . . . trapped me in here on purpose!” Gone was the girl who was loosening beneath my touch. In her place was the guarded enigma from before who made nothing but inaccurate assumptions about the kind of guy I was.
I no longer had it in me to play nice. “Yeah, that’s what I did, Greta. I snuck outside, chopped down the tree like good ol’ George fucking Washington, and then super sleuthed my way back inside. In fact, this whole thunderstorm is a diversion, too. Smoke and mirrors. I did it all to get you alone and have my way with you.”
Her eyes narrowed on me, her hands on her hips. Before she could come back with something to further sour my mood, I took it upon myself to deflate the ego I’d played a part in giving her.
“Listen, sweetheart. I want out of here as much as you do. You think I want to spend my night holed up in here with you? Pssh! I’ve got shit to do, too. You’re not the only one with deadlines and projects, ya know?”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, it is. And to think I stayed around here just to—” Oh, no. I wasn’t about to confess that I stuck around for her. I’d already given too much and gotten nothing in return. It was time to forgive and forget and put the fantasy of winning over the coffee shop chick to rest. I shook my head and scrubbed a weary hand over my drying facial fuzz. “Never mind. I’ll see if I can get us out of here through that broken window. Or maybe there’s an ax or something around here. I don’t know. You think you can stay put or will you need to use me and my lap again for false protection when you’re spooked by the thunder?”
“Don’t, Ezra. Don’t be a dick.”
“Why, not?” I laughed, shaking my head. “If it walks like a duck . . . quack, quack, baby. You’ve already made your judgments about me. I might as well fit the bill.” I had no idea what came over me. In the short amount of time I was trapped with this girl—this stranger—my emotions ranged all over the place. It wasn’t normal to feel anything because of her. I hardly knew her. In fact, I didn’t know anything about her! Not even her goddamn name.
With the dismissive flick of a wrist, I started off to the back room to find a way the hell out of here. Before I could take a step further into the awkward, silent shadows, Greta spoke. “I guess I was right about you, even if I hoped I wasn’t. My observations—the research, if you will. You’re perfect for the part because you are the part. Typical cardigan wearing, Kings of Leon lovin’, not-trying-to-be-cool-but-totally-trying-too-hard hipster who thinks his trendy beard can melt the panties off any lady with a simple finger trail through his scruff.”
I ignored the part about the research—for now—just to knock her down to size. “Me? Have you looked in the mirror, darlin’? You’re the poster child for Hipster Magazine. With those thrift store glasses—that’re probably fake, by the way—and your chunky bangs, and your cutesy wardrobe of shabby chic threads, sipping on your expensive artisanal java every day like a walking cliché. Not to mention the whole Hollywood starlet shit. You’re what, barely legal? What the hell would you know about the classics and the silver screen? I’m no more of an act than you are, sweetheart. I’ve got your number. You, on the other hand, know nothing about me. I don’t even drink this fuckin’ coffee, for Christ’s sake! America runs on Dunkin’!”
In the darkness, I could make out the moonlit silhouette of her face. She was stunned still, silent. Not angry, definitely not indifferent, maybe a bit hurt. I’d worked myself up with my little tirade, my breathing now erratic. I took a deep inhalation to calm myself and expected her to react before I was able to simmer. What I didn’t expect were tears.
Fuck! I was a sucker for tears.
“SHIT, GRETA. I’M sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” I rushed to her side, treading lightly as I reached out to graze her arm.
“Jane,” she whispered, cupping her hands over her glasses to hide her eyes.
“What?” I sidled up to her once I was sure it was safe.
“My name. It’s . . . Jane.” It sounded like an apology and for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why. Yes, we’d just gotten into it over nothing. Yeah, she’d been a bit presumptuous in judging me based on very little knowledge. But I made her cry, and that wasn’t cool. I should be the one apologizing to her.
“Jane.” I let it slip off my tongue with ease. It was simple and delicate, timeless even. “It suits you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her tears wavered and she sniffled, but her stiff stance told me she thought I was being sarcastic.
I laughed then. To myself, of course. I didn’t want to rouse the fierce tiger that lived inside this petite, adorable kitten. Jane was a mixed bag of personalities, and not in the schizophrenic way by any stretch of my wild imagination. In fact, it was that blend of sweet and spicy that found a way to creep under my skin—every day since she first walked into the store right until this very moment.
By some cosmic twist of fate, we’d spent more time together tonight than we had in the months I’d pined over her. I couldn’t exactly say it was time well spent, or that it was under the most luxurious of circumstances, but hey, I’d take what I could get. Only, I wanted a do over. I needed a chance to show her that there was more to me than good looks and a furry face. I wasn’t just some wanna-be Brooklyn Flea, following the fads. Hell, I sported a beard before it was even cool. I took on this job for the benefits—the health benefits, mind you. I had depth, interests, a heart. If she got to know me, she’d
learn to like me. One could only hope.
We stood in silence another moment, stagnant yet peaceful. We weren’t getting out of here any time soon, and I thought it would be nice to make the best of it and walk through those doors—whenever that happened to be—as friends, if nothing else. Taking a step closer, I cleared my throat and swiped a few tousled strands of hair off my forehead. “Why don’t we start over?” I rubbed my hand across my jeans as if to brush away any cooties she thought I might have and then extended an open palm to her. “Hi, Jane. I’m Ezra. Nice to meet you.”
Jane peered over the top of her glasses, some of her lashes sticking together from the tears she shed. She took a beat too long and for a second I thought she’d snub me—yet again—but to my contentment, she took my hand in hers and shook it with a gentle squeeze. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”
“Phew.” My chest deflated with the breath I’d been holding.
Jane’s did too.
Relief filled the air with a refreshing vibe, so I ran with it. “I think we’re going to be here a while. Your clothes are still damp; you’ve got to be cold. Want me to see if I have an old uniform shirt in the back?”
“That would be great, but can you not leave me out here alone? I’m still kind of spooked.” She adopted a low tone as if she had to keep her fears secret, as if I didn’t already know she was a wuss when it came to thunderstorms. I thought it was cute, like everything else about her. But I was getting ahead of myself. Friends first, Ezra. Play it cool.
“Sure. Come with me. Then we can munch on some not-so-fresh bagels until we figure out our escape plan. I don’t know about you, but all this bickering made me hungry.”
Jane laughed—a melodious chuckle—as we felt around in the dark and made it to the employees’ lounge. I managed to feel out the utility closest where a flashlight would be waiting for us. “And God said . . . let there be light.” I flicked it on and accidentally shined the bright beam into her eyes. She raised her hands to shield them from the light and I changed the direction of the stream so it hit the ceiling and gave the room a low glow.
The Hipster Chronicles Page 5