Bentley (Hawthorne Brothers Book One)(14)

“Oh yeah? How come?” I asked.

“I can’t ruin the surprise, can I? Just trust me on this one. You’re never going to forget it,” he said.

As I read and reread his text, a thousand scenarios started to play through my mind. Were we just going out for a fun night? Was he going to ask me out? Was he going to propose? No, get it together, Anna, he’s not going to propose. I went a little overboard there. Maybe I was just reading it all wrong. Maybe it was just going to be a fun night together and that was it. Yeah, that must be it.

“You could ruin it, I wouldn’t mind,” I said, ending with a winking face.

“I think I’ll keep it for Sunday. It’ll be more fun that way,” he said.

I was glad I was alone in the townhouse, because I must’ve looked like a freak standing there smiling the way that I was. I was always smiling with him, and when I wasn’t with him, I was smiling at things he was saying or had said to me. It was like I was a young girl all over again.

The two of us texted for a little bit longer before he said he had some things to do at the shop, inventory and cleaning, and wouldn’t be around his phone all that much. I had some reading to do for class anyway, so I just let him go and told him I would talk to him tomorrow, and he said he was looking forward to it.

With half a cup of orange juice in my hand, I walked upstairs and into my room, turning on the soft Christmas-like string lights I had circling my room. It provided just enough glow for me to read, and it looked incredibly cool.

I put my pillows behind my back, against my headboard, and picked up my textbook, the edges a bit frayed, before opening up to page 234 and feeling the cold pages of the textbook against my index finger as I slid it along so that I wouldn’t lose my place. I got about five pages in before I could feel my brain stopping its absorption and wanting me just to turn off the lights and get to bed. It was still early, only about eight, but I just couldn’t help myself any longer. Reading always did this to me, and the process seemed to accelerate when it had to do with learning. I fell asleep once in eighth grade when we had silent reading time.

I grabbed a bookmark from my nightstand and shoved it inside to keep my place before closing the book and setting it down on my floor, away from my nightstand where my juice was still sitting. I took a sip, gulping hard as I swallowed, before puckering my lips a little and lying back down against my bed. I kept the dimmed string lights on, more for the ambiance, as I knew I’d probably wake up at ten anyway when Nina or Maggie got home and made a lot of noise. A nap for now, though.





Chapter Thirteen



Anna



We were only going out for coffee and treats tonight, but I wanted to look my best. After all, when you’re with a guy like Bentley, one you like, you always want to look your best instead of letting yourself go.

I waited by the front door, his text from fifteen minutes ago saying he was about to leave his parents’ house, before I saw the headlights of his sexy car pull into my lot and park. It was sprinkling outside, nothing too intense, though it was strange for this time of year. It was winter, after all. I told him earlier I would just walk out, which I didn’t think he cared for because he wanted to come get me, but I didn’t feel like getting embarrassed again by Nina and Maggie. They were a bit much sometimes, and I needed to not have fiery red cheeks.

I opened my clear umbrella on the front porch and walked out to his car, shaking the umbrella as clean as I could before closing the door and greeting him.

“You look very pretty tonight,” he said with a smile, leaning in and kissing me.

His hand on the steering wheel, he gripped it tighter as his lips pressed against mine and I turned my feet inwards in happiness.

“Thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself, handsome,” I said before he sat back upright in his seat.

“Well, a well-dressed man always looks a little bit better with a beautiful lady by his side,” he said.

“That’s true. Know any?” I asked jokingly.

“Yeah,” he said, looking at me before pulling out of the parking space and heading onto the main road.

“So where are we going exactly?” I asked.

“Harson’s. You know it?” he asked.

“Yeah, I know it. I’ve been there I think two or three times to get some books,” I said.

An institution on campus, Harson’s was like a bookstore and coffee shop in one. It was pretty big, especially for this town, and was the choice spot for quiet studiers and nervous first-time dates who didn’t feel like springing for dinner somewhere. I loved their triple chocolate chunk cookies, and the more I thought of them, the more I wanted one.

“How was the time with your parents?” I asked.

“It went well. It was a small party for their anniversary, so I saw a lot of people I haven’t seen in a while. Nice time overall,” he said.

“That’s good. I’m glad to hear it,” I said.

“They asked about you,” he said.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Well, I should rephrase that. They didn’t ask about you, but rather if I was seeing anybody,” he said.

“And? What did you say?” I asked.

“I said I was, though not officially,” he said.

“What was their reaction?” I asked.

“They asked me why it wasn’t official, and then told me to get on that because I’m getting too old not to be in a serious relationship,” he said, laughing.

I bit my lower lip and felt a knot in my stomach as I wondered if tonight would indeed be the night. Why was I so nervous about being asked out? It had happened before, so it wasn’t like he was going to be my first boyfriend by any means, but maybe it was just the fact of him asking me out that got me all flustered and nervous. I had almost idolized him for a long time, all throughout high school even, so I suppose my girlhood fantasies coming true was just too hard to forget or not care deeply about.

“Maybe you’ll have to do something about it, then,” I said, almost trying to bait him into asking me.

“Maybe,” he said, with one hand on top of the wheel as he looked over at me.

He was so cool.

We pulled into the Harson’s parking lot and found a space near the front before he turned off the car and flipped up the hood on his jacket. I got my umbrella ready and popped it open outside the car before closing my door and walking over to him. He held out his hand, I grabbed it, and we passed the waiting cars before coming up on the wide concrete sidewalk towards the front of the building.

The smell of slowly roasted coffee beans tickled the senses as we walked inside the double doors, a banner up front advertising their newest sale, and a greeter handing out some kind of card to kids who walked in. Seeing the café off to the left, we walked towards it, still holding hands, before going up the steps and getting in line behind about four other people.

“Know what you’re going to get?” I asked.

“Not a clue. I guess a coffee, and maybe a pastry,” he said as he bobbed his head around to see the selections left over.

“The cookies are amazing,” I said.

“Eh, I’m not always big on cookies,” he said.

“Not big on cookies? What are you, a communist?” I asked, making him smile.

“I had a very bad experience as a kid that involved gorging myself on cookies before a hot day at summer camp. Let’s just say the bushes weren’t too happy with me that day. I’ve almost had a phobia about them ever since. Just can’t eat them too often,” he said.

“I understand. I’m the same way with bananas,” I said.

“What?” he asked, almost in disbelief, as if his cookie story was so different.

“On a road trip to Michigan as a kid I ate one that had been sitting in the hot car for who knows how long. Let’s just say that the inside of my mom’s minivan wasn’t too happy with me, either,” I said.

We moved up in line, next to order, as Bentley still looked at the long glass case for his pastry choice. He looked almost panicked, but I reassured him that he’d be fine. Funny how pastries can do that to a person.

“Next,” the barista said.

“Hi, I’d like a caramel iced coffee and a large triple chocolate chunk cookie, please,” I said.

“Good choices. And for you, sir?” the girl asked.

“I’ll have a large coffee and a cherry Danish, please,” he said.

“Is there anything else I can get for you today?” the girl asked as a guy started getting the drinks behind the counter.

“Nope, that’ll be it,” Bentley said.

“That’ll be $13.45, please,” she said.

Bentley pulled out a twenty and gave it to her before getting his change and leaving a few bucks in the tip jar for them, which I appreciated, having worked tip-based jobs before. She got us our treats, keeping them just in the sanitary paper instead of bagging them up, and the guy smiled as he handed us our drinks.

“I’m just going to put some stuff in,” Bentley said, walking over to the drinks station. He poured in some cream and sugar before taking a thin straw and stirring it all together.

“Where should we sit?” I asked as he put his lid back on.

“I’m fine with anywhere you want. Maybe somewhere more private?” he asked.