Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 78(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Jesus Christ. I'm almost thirty, and I'm acting like this.
Pathetic, obsessive fool.
James circles around to the driver's side but pauses beside me, well out of Elise's earshot.
He elbows me in the ribs. "Goddamn. I was right all along. I thought I was imagining the way you looked at her back in high school."
"Shut the fuck up, James," I grit out, but I'm not really denying it.
He laughs and shakes his head. "You are in trouble, my man. Rehearsal my ass."
Despite myself, I chuckle.
He's right. I am in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.
And I'm just getting started.
===
3
ELISE
Today will be fine. Absolutely fine. Just a normal day where a gorgeous, successful basketball player worth millions happens to be visiting my tiny apartment above a coffee shop to practice being my fake boyfriend.
I wipe down the counter for the third time in five minutes, glancing at the clock again. 2:47 PM. Thirteen minutes until my shift ends.
"That's the cleanest countertop in America," Jane says, nudging me with her elbow as she passes. "Want to tell me why you've been jumping at every sound the bell makes for the last hour?"
"I'm not jumping."
The bell chimes as the door opens, and I nearly drop the rag. Jane gives me a look that says I've proven her point.
"Just expecting someone," I say, relaxing when I see it's just Joyce coming for her daily cappuccino.
"Someone?" Jane waggles her eyebrows.
I'm saved from answering when Joyce approaches the counter, and I take my time making her drink, adding the perfect milk foam heart. When I turn back, Jane is still watching me, arms crossed.
"It's nothing. Just ... remember the guy I mentioned? From high school? Not James, but Elias. He's coming by to talk about the reunion."
Jane's eyes narrow. "The basketball player? Your crush from—"
"Shh! Yes, that one." I glance around nervously, though the café only has three customers, none within earshot.
"Well, well. Maybe this reunion thing won't be so bad after all."
The bell chimes again, and this time my heart actually stops. For a beat or two. Because there he is.
Elias ducks his head as he enters the café, those green eyes scanning the room before landing on me. He's wearing jeans and a simple navy t-shirt that stretches across his shoulders in a way that makes all my lady parts tingle. His hair is slightly rumpled, like he's been running his hand through it.
The floor under my feet is gone, and I'm sliding through it, with absolutely nothing to break my fall.
"Holy shit," Jane whispers. "That's actually him."
Elias approaches the counter, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Hey, Elise."
Just two words, and my stomach does a full somersault. I manage a smile that I hope doesn't look as shaky as it feels. "Hey."
Jane is staring openly, and I clear my throat. "Um, Jane, this is Elias. Elias, this is my sister, Jane."
"The owner of this amazing place," Elias says, extending his hand. "Nice to meet you."
Jane takes his hand, seemingly star-struck for a second before her protective big sister instincts kick in, giving him an appraising look that says I'm watching you.
I can see the exact moment Jane decides she likes him—the slight relaxation of her shoulders, the genuine smile replacing her skeptical one.
"What can I get you?" I ask, grateful to have something to do with my hands.
"Iced Americano, please."
As I prepare his drink, I'm hyperaware of his eyes on me. My hands tremble, and I focus on not spilling anything. When I turn to hand him the drink, our fingers brush, and an electric current shoots up my arm.
Oh, my Lord.
"Thanks," he says, and I swear his voice is deeper than it was a moment ago.
He takes a seat at a corner table and pulls out his phone. I try not to watch him as I serve the next customer, but my eyes keep flicking his way. He lifts his phone, angles it toward the coffee cup, and takes a photo.
A few minutes later, Jane nudges me. "Um, Elise? Something's happening."
I follow her gaze to the front window, where a small group of people is peering inside, phones in hand. The bell chimes again, and three women enter, scanning the room. Their eyes land on Elias, and they whisper excitedly to each other before approaching the counter.
Within twenty minutes, the café is buzzing. The line stretches to the door—more customers than we've had all week.
"What the hell?" Jane says as she frantically restocks cups.
Elias approaches the counter, looking a bit sheepish. "Sorry about this. I posted a photo of the coffee." He shows us his phone—a simple shot of the iced Americano, Jane's Brew logo visible in the background. No caption, just the location tag.
Jane's eyes widen. "This is because of one photo?"
He shrugs. "Twenty million followers. They tend to follow where I go."
"Twenty million?" Jane almost chokes. "When that other girl from your high school posted about us, we got maybe three extra customers. This is ... wow."