The Coffee Pact

11| Driving me crazy

When Jake meets me at the coffee house, it's like nothing ever happened. He takes a seat opposite, then gets back up to order a drink from the counter.

I watch him from my armchair, trying to gauge what kind of mood he's in, but it's hard to tell. He doesn't seem as moody as he was back at school, but he's still a little tense; I am desperate to know what was wrong.

The seconds' tick by as he waits for his order. Ever impatient, he starts talking with Amelia, which not only breaks the coffee house etiquette but also annoys me. She's smiling and blushing like he's complimenting her–can he not go a minute without flirting?

Amelia finally serves up his drinks. He carries a tray over and takes a seat opposite, still wearing that same grin he gave her. I ignore him and look at the tray. On it are two hot chocolates topped with whipped cream and a blueberry muffin. I've noticed he's stopped drinking coffee since starting our bet, almost out of solidarity.

He reaches for his drink, and without meaning to, I glance at his lips. If I closed my eyes right now, I'd be able to recall exactly how they felt against my own–soft and supple and fruity. But I don't want to imagine Jake's lips, or any other part of him for that matter, so I keep them wide open.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Jake asks.

I ignore his comment and grab my drink, licking some cream off the top. Jake watches like he's hypnotized.

"What are you doing, Hope?" He leans forward in his chair, his eyes bright and playful.

"Drinking my drink you freak."

He takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, getting whipped cream on his mouth. I smile because sometimes he's such a goofball.

"What?" he asks.

I roll my eyes, but the smile is still firmly in place. "You've got whipped cream all over your face."

Embarrassed, he licks his lips. "Has it gone?"

My smile lengthens. "No."

He sticks out his tongue, shifting it to the left and then the right in search of the cream. "Is it gone now?"

"If I say yes, will you stop doing that?"

He frowns and says, "Stop staring and help me."

I roll my eyes and lean across the table, using my thumb to gently wipe his mouth. His lips feel so soft that I can't help but brush my thumb across his bottom lip. When my eyes flit to his, he grins; one point for him.

I retreat back to my seat and take a breath. I have no idea what's happening, but ever since that kiss, something has changed. It's kind of like before, except now there's this electrical current between us, and every look creates a spark.

"So, we should probably get on with your essay," I say, my voice like silk. "I mean, that's the whole reason we're here." I raise my hand and indicate around us, reminding him of where we are.

Jake leans back in his chair, refusing to take his eyes off me. "You're right, we should talk about the essay."

I reach into my bag, pulling out my hard copy of The Handmaid's Tale. "So, now that you've gotten the introduction out of the way, we need to find some evidence in the book to prove your argument for why love is so important in The Handmaid's Tale."

When I look up, he is still watching me, his eyes flitting to my lips before working their way back up. His eyebrows furrow like he's deliberating something. "Fine," he says, his eyes turning wicked, "let's talk about sex."