You're to Blame(8)

*****

After hours at the hospital, my skin thaws under the sun, and my shoulders relax. The short line at my favorite coffee shop on campus is the perfect distraction for my Sunday morning. The outdoor seating means half of the year we only get to grab our coffee and go. Temperatures fluctuate between warm one day and cold the next. Today is a perfect day to sit and enjoy a cup. After living in Michigan my whole life, I’m used to the unpredictability.

An obnoxious laugh echoes through the courtyard, like nails on a chalkboard. I scan the area surrounding the front of the shop. A platinum blonde wraps her arm through Duke’s. His grimace goes unnoticed by her, but not by me.

“We should go out sometime,” she giggles, her voice squeaky. And not in a cute way, but in the on-purpose kind of way that makes girls with half a brain cringe.

Why do girls dumb themselves down for guys?

I concentrate on the barista. “I’ll take two small coffees. One decaf. Both black, please.”

My foot taps uneasily about my gut check decision. Regret settles in the pit of my stomach when the young girl hands me the sleeveless cups. The hot liquid burns my fingers, and I do my best to balance them, spilling a small dribble onto my thumb.

I walk until I’m right on Duke’s heels.

“I have your coffee,” I blurt.

He turns at the sound of my voice. “Excuse me?” Duke tucks his free hand into the front pocket of his jeans. The seams stretch under the pressure. His legs are strong but lean, the kind seen on a male model. They’re hard not to notice. Not that I was looking.

I shift from foot to foot. The scrutiny as he scans up and down my length makes me uneasy. He’s unsure of what I’m doing in front of him.

Hell, that makes two of us.

The girl next to him assesses the situation. Her glance bounces between him and me.

“Your coffee, babe.” I offer the cup and he takes it.

Eyes narrowed, he tilts his head like a confused dog. His dark hair falls over his left eye. A hint of mischief screams from them and makes my stomach do an unexpected, weird somersault, a reaction I’m sure he’s caused in plenty of girls in the past.

He pulls his arm away from blondie. “Sorry. It seems my coffee has arrived just in time.” His tone is full of dismissal.

She takes his brush off like a champion. The way she fawns at him, batting her eyelashes, tells me she’ll take any scraps he’s willing to slop onto the floor. Her smile shifts to a frown, and her eyes narrow at me. Her silence speaks volumes. She hates me a little bit. There’s a satisfaction in knowing her level of disdain.

“Girlfriend?” I nod in the direction she disappears.

Why is he smiling at me like he can see my lace thong? Dammit, he’s gorgeous.

“It’s funny because something tells me she thinks you’re my girlfriend, babe.” Duke’s eyebrow raises, questioning me with one look.

I shrug, dismissing what I did as if it were nothing. “You looked like you needed help.”

“Yeah, because most twenty-two-year old’s hate hot blondes hanging all over them.” He blows in the tiny hole of the lid. His lips pucker, a complete distraction. I glance away, afraid I’ll be caught staring.

“What I meant is you didn’t look in the mood to entertain a hot blonde this early in the morning. Something tells me you are more of a night time guy.” My embarrassment at the suggestive joke burns pink on my cheeks.

“Are you flirting with me, Charlotte?” Duke’s smile is cocky and infuriating.

Oh my god, am I? I couldn’t be.

“Unlikely,” I scoff. Shaking the idea from my mind, I collect my thoughts. “But I am here to apologize.”

“For what?” He takes a long pull of coffee and steps along the sidewalk.

“Stop for a second.” My hand rests on his arm, and he does as I ask.

“What’s up, Charlotte?” Duke turns his full attention on me.

“I’m sorry for being a bitch last night,” I admit. “I’m exhausted and stressed. I took it out on you, when in reality, I’m actually to blame.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Duke’s eyebrows furrow. “And what do you mean you’re to blame?”

“It’s nothing.” I wave him off. “And I do have to worry about it. You’re Jacob’s friend, and I allowed my own stress to be an excuse to pile it on you. I normally don’t behave that way.” I force a smile onto my face to try to ease the odd, but visible tension.

“What a shame,” Duke whispers.

I lean forward to better hear him. “What did you say?”

“What I mean is, you should be more assertive in life. If you don’t like something, speak up.”

Who does this guy think he is, assuming I don’t have the balls to stand up for myself? He’s right. Not that I’d ever admit that to him.

“What?” I ask.

I’m ashamed Duke isn’t the first person to suggest this. Even when I was young, teachers told my parents they needed to instill enough confidence in me to stand up for myself. A child of nods, they used to say. I’d say yes because it was always easier than stating my opinion or discomfort.

“And that’s what you thought I was doing, speaking up because I don’t like you?” I question.

“You don’t know me enough not to like me,” Duke deadpans. “Thanks for the coffee.” He holds the empty cup up in appreciation. With one quick toss, it lands in the garbage.