Cool for the Summer, Dahlia Adler [classic literature list .txt] 📗

back, because as soon as it’s out there, I miss waiting for it, dreaming of it. And it doesn’t feel like I thought it would either. It feels like … a question. A question I could easily say yes or no to. A question that isn’t the be-all and end-all of everything.

And then I realize the answer actually is no, and there’s a little twinge in my gut.

“I’m babysitting tonight,” I say with a frown as I carefully add hot, frothy milk to his drink. I’m tempted to cancel on the Sullivans and their triplets, but I don’t want to give up a really, really well-paying job, nor do I want to wreck their monthly date night. “Maybe tomorrow? I work the same shift here as today, but I’m free after that.” Well, I have a paper due for European history I’ve barely started, and I promised my mom I’d work on my college apps this weekend and also do the laundry at some point, but besides that.

It’s Chase Harding.

My mom will understand.

“I’m playing basketball with the guys in the afternoon. After, we’re hitting up Benny’s. You’re welcome to come.” It’s obvious from his voice he realizes it’s a lousy offer, joining a bunch of guys from the team at their favorite diner for pastrami sandwiches, guaranteeing unkissable breath. But the truth is, I like the guys on the team, and I like Benny’s fried chicken sandwiches. Still, I appreciate his follow-up of “I promise you ice cream afterward.”

“Well, how can I say no to an offer like that?” I ask as I add a dusting of cinnamon to his drink and push it forward.

“You definitely can’t,” he says, and there’s that grin. God, he’s cute. And this is so easy. How is this so easy?

Don’t you dare overthink this, Larissa.

“Well then—text me when you’re done with your game? After you’ve showered, that is,” I add with an exaggerated wrinkle of my nose, even though all I smell is the spicy drink sitting between us on the counter.

He laughs. “Deal. But I don’t think I have your number.”

That was the point.

He hands over his phone. “Put it in?”

So many dreams suddenly coming true in one place. God, I can’t wait to tell Shannon. She’s going to want to do a full-on makeover night. Except I’m pretty damn happy with how I already look, and it seems Chase is too.

Whatever, I’ll deal with that when the time comes. For now, I take Chase’s phone, type in my number, and hand it back. “There. Now text me so I have yours.”

Yes, I could’ve done it myself. But that is not how dream fulfillment works.

He types something into his phone, and a moment later, mine buzzes. A winking emoji. Followed by an ice cream emoji. They look kind of pervy together, but I feel pretty okay with that.

A loud cough sounds from behind Chase’s lanky form, and I realize a line has formed behind him. “I’ll be right with you, sir,” I say to the next customer, then glance back to Chase. “Did you want anything else this morning?”

“Nothing I can’t wait for a little longer.” And he winks. And I die.

He takes his drink and walks away, and I stare at his ass the entire time.

My throat is suddenly impossibly dry. “Next!”

Despite my wish-fulfillment morning, I’m back to thinking about how frustrating the situation is with Jasmine as I put the Sullivan triplets to bed that night. For some reason, I expected her to come walking through the door to the Book and Bean, order a double shot of espresso, and browse the shelves. One of the hardest parts of leaving Asheville for Jasmine must’ve been leaving behind her favorite bookstore, and it’s not like every city in Westchester has one. The Book and Bean should’ve been at the top of her list of places to explore.

She must know I work there.

And these are the lengths she’s going to in order to avoid me.

Not that I wanted her to come in. I mean, yeah, if it were like old times and we could chat about Goldie Vance and play “Judge a Book by Its Cover” (wherein we made up absolutely ridiculous stories about what books were about based on their packaging) and I could squee to her about Clementine Walker. If that were on the table, if we could just freaking be friends—

It hits me like the pudding cup little Ashlyn threw at me after dinner. What if the problem is she thinks I want more than that? What if she thinks I’m after the, uh, not-exactly-friendly stuff we did, and this is her way of letting me down? I mean, yeah, that’s pretty arrogant and ridiculous to assume without talking to me, but Jasmine doesn’t exactly win awards for her communication skills, and in fairness, neither do I.

Tomorrow, I’m going on a date with Chase and word is undoubtedly gonna spread about it. Maybe that’s all we need. Maybe once she knows my heart and libido lie elsewhere, she’ll chill out and we can go back to being friends, minus the benefits.

“Why are you smiling?”

Shit, my brain went off the rails while I was still standing in the triplets’ room, and Chadwick has caught me looking like a goof. Their night-light must’ve been illuminating my face in creeptastic fashion. “Go to sleep,” I say, slipping out the door, but I’m still smiling as I shut it behind me.

Chapter Six

Sunday’s shift is much like Saturday’s, minus the surprise drop-in by Chase and the early-morning heartwarming moment, but it feels like it takes three years longer. The minutes tick by slowly as I wait until I can go home and get ready for my date. Is it a date? I’m not sure it counts if it also includes half the football team. (Though some might say that makes it a really, really good date.) But he’d been going for a date when he initially invited me out—of that I’m at least eighty