Pretty Boy In Love

|10| Starbucks Boy

"Hey, isn't that Noah?"

At the sound if his name, I whip my head in the direction Jacob points. I calm down to push any suspicions off my back. Sure enough, though, Noah stands next to a car that must be Danielle's with his hands tangled in blonde hair and his lips furiously moving against Danielle's. The whole scene just screams that they are madly in love and anyone else has no chance.

Once again, guilt rises for not telling Cass about Danielle. The other thing is that I'm not letting the idea that he might somehow actually still fall for boring old me run out of my head. I'm leading myself to a dead end.

Seeing PDA is almost always vile. Almost always. I can't help but to imagine how Noah's lips would feel against my own. And how him tugging at my hair would make me love him more. I try to pry my eyes away from what I have no right to be watching, but the way Noah moves his lips is addictive. Fast and full of passion, then slow and sensual to cool off with little neck kisses in between. Danielle best be grateful because so many girls would cut off an arm to be in her position.

Damn, I am so whipped.

"Not a bad kisser, is he? I'm sure you would know." Jacob snaps my attention back to himself, but it takes me a good 10 seconds to process what he had just said. Once I do, I am mortified.

After an awkward moment of silence, I blurt out, "NO!" Composing myself and fully turning away from the scene, I offer Jacob a genuine smile. "Let's just get to Starbucks."

He owns a black Range Rover that looks squeaky clean. Memories of my family's old black SUV flood in. That was before my dad took everything. I don't think I'll ever be over how he took our dog, Angel, but not one of his two daughters. Maybe he was high when he was filling the documents out; I wouldn't be surprised.

We arrive at the Starbucks that Cass, Liv and I always go to. Recently, school and photography have taken over my life so I can never go with Liv. For some reason, I feel like she'd be pretty pissed if chose going with a guy over her, so I'm praying that she's not there. Sisters over misters, right?

The familiar scent of coffee and coziness fills me up when we enter the shop. No Rowan at any of the small circular tables. Only a man typing rapidly onto his laptop and glaring profusely at the little chime the door made when the two of us entered. He sips his caramel-coloured drink and digs himself back into his work.

The barista is the same 16-year-old private school boy that has a massive crush on Cass. I have to remind him that we're juniors and he's barely a sophomore, and an immature one at it.

"Iced lemonade please," I say, reaching into my pocket for my wallet when I realize that I didn't have time to bring it as I was rushing over here. My hand hits my forehead and I groan loudly.

Jacob notices and pulls out a crisp ten dollar bill. He places his order of iced coffee and hands the barista the bill. "I'll pay. It's the least I can do after you've been puked on."

The look on his face tells me that he's paying whether I like it or not, so I don't bother arguing. I give him a sincere thank you and mentally remind myself to pay him back. If mom heard about this, she would definitely not be happy. She doesn't want me melted into some rich boy's hand, like she was with dad. As if I haven't learned my lesson.

We pick a square table closest the window. I get to stare at the bustling streets of people who all look like they have somewhere to be. I doubt I look like that when I roam the street. Mainly because I'm usually on a scooter, yelling at my best friends to wait for me. The thought depresses me. With Rowan here, we don't do it anymore, not wanting to leave her out. Okay, fine, that's not the only reason. We're all so busy that even talking to each other can get hard.