Chapter 4: A Date?

CASSIE

The café was unusually slow for a Saturday morning. A few regulars sat by the window, nursing their drinks. The old cranky lady that was somehow always nice to me, the nerdy college student in the middle of the café with his croissant and black coffee who was always lost in calculus, the couple who came here every alternate day and today just happened to be their day but other than that, it was oddly quiet.

Too quiet.

Which meant I had no excuse to avoid the new customer, I sighed to myself.

It was George.

I busied myself behind the counter, wiping an already-clean surface. I could feel his eyes on me as he sipped his coffee.

I should have been annoyed.

Instead, I felt warm.

God, this was a mistake.

I sighed and finally turned to face him. "You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

He smirked. "Not unless you want me to."

Honestly, I liked his company, and apart from my friend, who was miles away and always busy with her degree, I had no one else around. Regardless, no one passed my vibe check and well, George did. Apparently, I was counting on a persistent bug-like reply like that.

I hesitated for a while because I was torn with conflicting feelings, and that was the problem.

I didn't want him to go, but a part of me wanted him to leave, so I sulked in my loneliness.

I should have listened to the other part of me because she was usually correct.

I should have wanted him to walk away before this turned into something I couldn't handle.

Instead, I exhaled and leaned against the counter. "So. What's your deal, Sinclair?"

He raised an eyebrow. "My deal?"

"You keep showing up," I said. "You don't act like a typical rich guy, but you are one. You take a cooking class in some rundown community center when you could hire a private chef to teach you anything you want. So yeah, I want to know—what's your deal?"

He studied me, his expression unreadable.

And then he said, "What if I just like spending time with you?"

My stomach flipped. Someone loved spending time with me apart from Liv, my best friend... OMG. But I had to keep my cool, thread carefully.

I rolled my eyes to cover my reaction. "Oh, please."

He leaned forward slightly, his voice dipped low. "Cassie."

The way he said my name, it sounded almost like a warning but also a promise.

I swallowed hard. "I don't buy it."

"That's because you don't trust people." He replied instantly.

My pulse kicked up. "Maybe I have good reasons."

"I'm sure you do." His gaze softened. "But I'm not them."

I hated how badly I wanted to believe him.

I straightened. "You're annoying, you know that?"

He smiled. "So, I've been told."

A laugh bubbled up in my throat before I could stop it.

His expression shifted, like he wasn't expecting that.

Like he wasn't expecting me.

The air between us felt heavy, charged with something I didn't want to name.

I cleared my throat and grabbed a dish towel, needing something to do with my hands. "You should go before my manager comes out and assumes you're loitering."

George didn't move right away.

Instead, he replied "I'm simply enjoying my coffee and sparking a conversation with a very friendly staff."

"That, my dear, can get you a promotion; also, might get you on the walls as staff of the month or year even", he continued.

He studied me meticulously when he was done with his coffee, almost like he was memorizing something.

Then, finally, he pushed his chair back and stood.

"See you in class, Davidson."

I rolled my eyes. "Not if I see you first."

I palmed my head and whispered to myself, 'Why did I say that.'

He smirked. "Exactly."

And then he was gone.?

I watched as he walked out of the shop, his steps so smooth and graceful compared to my usual brisk manner of walking. He turned back in his steps and smiled while locking eyes with me, and soon he disappeared in the crowd of people on the street.

I let out a breath and pressed a hand against my chest, where my heart was beating way too fast.

This was getting dangerous.

Because if I wasn't careful, I was going to fall for him.

And I didn't know if I'd survive the crash.

_____________

I closed my eyes, inhaling the mix of freshly baked bread as well as fumes of combustion in the air. I wasn't thinking about him.

Nope. Not at all.

Not about the way he looked at me like I was worth figuring out, fighting for.

Not about the way his voice curled around my name like I belonged to him, like a special extinct flower.

Not about the way I felt, too warm, too aware, every time he was near.

Except I was thinking about him.

And that was a problem.

I sighed, wiping the café counter for the third time. The place was almost empty, except for a couple in the corner sharing a muffin and a fashion design student buried in her designs. The stillness should have been calming, but my mind was loud.

Loud with the thoughts of him.

I managed to get rid of the thought of George for the rest of my shift after his unexpected visit. But now, as I locked up for the night, I couldn't shake the knowing feeling in my bones that this wasn't over.

That he wasn't done with me.

And maybe, just maybe, I wasn't done with him either.

GEORGE 

I told myself I wouldn't go back. That I'd keep my distance and let Cassie come to me.

But patience had never been my virtue.

So here I was, sitting in the backseat of my car, staring at the message I had typed but hadn't brought myself to send.

>> Meet me tonight. No pressure. Just us. <<

I wasn't sure why I had been hesitating.

Maybe because Cassie was different.

Maybe because I didn't want to scare her off.

Maybe because, for the first time in a long time, I cared about the outcome.

With a quiet exhale, I pressed send.

And then, I waited.

CASSIE

My phone buzzed as I stepped off the bus, and I didn't have to check to know who it was.

George.

I hesitated for way too long before finally unlocking my screen.

>> Meet me tonight. No pressure. Just us. <<

My heart shouldn't have skipped.

I shouldn't have read the message three times.

I shouldn't have wanted to say yes.

But I did.

I stared at my phone for at least five minutes, debating. Trying to decide if I should meet up with George or not.

Meeting George meant stepping into something I wasn't sure I was ready for.

But not meeting him?

That meant spending the night alone, wondering what would have happened if I had said yes.

I exhaled sharply and typed my reply.

>> Where? <<

he replied almost immediately.

>> I'll pick you up. <<

Of course, he would. Because George Sinclair didn't do halfway, and I loved it.

My fingers hovered over the screen. I should say no. I should keep the distance between us. 

Instead, I sent him my address.

Big mistake.

I panicked.

I had forgotten that he already knew my address; now he'd think I was interested in him.

An hour later, I was pacing around my tiny apartment, rethinking every life choice that had led me to this moment.

What was I even doing?

Suddenly, I heard a knock at the door, which nearly sent me into a cardiac arrest.

I hesitated for a while before opening the door because once I did, there would be no turning back.

But then I did, and there he was.

George stood at my doorstep holding a large bouquet of poppies and lavender… my favorite. He looked exceedingly calm and charming. Dressed in an all-black tailored coat and sharp dress shirt, with a confidence that dripped from every movement.

I was in jeans and an oversized sweater.

I'm extremely underdressed. Fantastic.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes dragging over me in a way that made my skin heat.

"You look comfortable," he said, amusement flickering across his face.

"Here are your flowers, Mademoiselle, pretty flowers for a beautiful lady", he gestured.

I extended my arms to take the flowers. "You look like you just stepped out of a Louis Vuitton magazine."

"And thank you for the flowers" I smiled while burying my nose in them.

His lips quirked as he meticulously watched me. I could feel his eyes boring through me. "I'll take that as a compliment."

I rolled my eyes. "What are we doing tonight, Sinclair?"

His gaze softened just a fraction. "Whatever you want, Cassie."

I had no idea what I wanted.

One should never leave a lady to decide what they want for a date.

This is a date, isn't it? I thought to myself.