His eyes sparkle with delight as he glances back at the cashier. “We’ll take two chocolate chips.”
Her gaze dances between the two of us. Then she untwists her hair from her finger and punches in the order. “That’ll be nineteen fifty-seven.” Her tone isn’t so friendly anymore, and I smile to myself, though I have no right to.
I swing my bag around to dig my wallet out, but Beck swats my hand away.
“My treat,” he says, retrieving his wallet from his jeans.
“I’m paying for mine,” I tell him firmly, slipping my hand into my bag.
“Please just let me pay for this one. I’m the one who suggested we get coffee, anyway.” He opens his wallet and digs out a twenty.
“So what? I’m the one who’s going to be drinking it.” I take my wallet out, grab a ten because that’s all I have and hand him the bill. “I’m going to pay for my own beverages and food, or I’m not going to eat and drink them.”
He hesitates before taking the money from me and stuffing it into his wallet. “Next time, I’m buying.”
I disregard the remark. “And no trying to slip it back into my wallet when you think I’m not looking.”
Shock flashes in his eyes, but he quickly shakes the look away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You so do.”
“Do not.”
“Beck, you’re so full of—”
“Oh, look, a table opened up.” He hurries off toward a table near the window and takes a seat.
I give the cashier my name then make my way around the tables and sink into the chair across from him.
I slip my bag off my shoulder, set it by my feet, and rest my arms on the table. “Okay, what do you need to talk to me about my living situation for?” My tone is formal, casual, despite my crazy lunatic heart.
He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re seriously the most impatient person sometimes.”
I reach across the table to flick his hand, but he drops his other hand over mine, trapping my palm on the table.
“Now you’re my prisoner.” He grins wickedly. “And I’m never letting you go.”
My heart pulsates from the contact, and not necessarily in a bad way. I try to wiggle my hand free, but he refuses to let go.
“No way,” he says. “I’m not letting you go until you hear my idea completely out.”
“You’re making me nervous … if you have to trap me here to say whatever it is you need to say.”
“I just want to get through my entire speech without any interruptions. That’s all.”
“But you’re afraid I’ll try to bolt?”
“Not really bolt so much as wander off when I start saying things you may not want to hear.”
“I don’t do that,” I say, flattening my hand on the table.
“You do sometimes.” He traces his thumb across the back of my hand, and I shiver. “You did in the field.”
A huge elephant wearing a tutu and ballet slippers appears next to us and starts twirling around as awkward silence fills the air. Part of me wants to keep my lips fused and never speak of what happened, let the elephant dance and twirl between us for the rest of my life. The other part of me knows how distracting that would be. And wanting a distraction is what led me to get drunk last Friday, which led to me making out with Beck.
“So, what’s your idea that will help my living situation?” I force the elephant to sashay away.
His brows pop up, as if he half-expected me not to say anything at all. “I want you to move in with me.”
I had a feeling he was going to say that. “I don’t think—”
He swiftly extends his free hand across the table and gently places it over my mouth. “Please, just listen to my entire speech before saying no, okay? It’s not as bad as you’re thinking. At least, I don’t think so.”
I hesitantly nod, despite not wanting to, but he has such a pleading look on his face.
To reduce some of the stiffness between us, I crack a joke. “Man, you must be getting desperate”—my lips move against his palm as I speak, and butterflies frolic in my stomach—“if you have to pin my hand to the table and gag me.”
He withdraws his hand, his lips threatening to turn upward. “Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.” He puts his other hand over mine. “You’re turning me into a desperate man, Wills.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything at all. Inside, my heart reacts with a spastic flutter. Damn little weirdo. It needs to start acting normal again.
His lips quirk at my silence as he strokes the back of my hand with his fingertip. “I want you to move in with me.”