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Dante pays for the order and leads me to the other side of the small café to stand at the to-go counter. His leather jacket is slung over one of his arms.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask him.

“You make it sound like I’m holding you hostage,” Dante replies.

I take a deep breath and shake my head. “Look, if you’re trying to mess with me, I can handle it—but we both have places to be, and I don’t need to owe you any favors.”

Dante raises an eyebrow. “Owe me?”

“I spilled coffee on you, and you’re buying me another. We’re two for zero now,” I explain as I pull out my phone. “Give me your number so I can send you a hundred dollars for the dry cleaning, and we’ll call it even.”

His expression falls. “I don’t need your money,” he tells me. “And if you owed me a favor, you’d know it.”

“Well, I don’t. I can’t read minds, but I know you’re not exactly Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes.” I ignore the way my jeans are getting even tighter. My stomach and groin are so hot that I’m starting to feel nauseous.

“No, that’s you,” he says with an unnerving smirk. “You wanna pay for the coffee and jacket? I’d rather you get on your knees and suck my dick.”

Blank.

My head goes blank.

Fire invades my face and every single other part of my body.

I’ve had people joke and tease in a sexual manner toward me before, hellI’vedone it, but from the way Dante looks at me I know he’sserious.

The other barista sets our coffees on the counter. I see it from the corner of my vision, but I can’t move or speak.

At least not until Dante chuckles darkly and breaks our eye contact to grab his coffee.

I swallow the saliva that’s pooled in my mouth and snap myself out of it…whateveritis.

“Not interested,” I tell him, and grab my coffee.

“In me or dudes?” he asks.

“I have a girlfriend,” I inform him.

Dante opens his coffee and grabs a few packets of self-serve sugar.

“That’s not an answer.”

I take a step back. “Thanks for the coffee, but I have things to do.” I turn around, expecting Dante to stop me from leaving, but he doesn’t.

Every time I sip my coffee I think of him, down to the very last drop. There are moments where I’m focused on the event and people around me, moments where I’m being spoken to and I briefly I forget that I spilled coffee on Dante Romano and he humiliated me, bought me a new coffee, and then told me he wants me to give him a blowjob.

The majority of the time, however, I’m thinking about it…and trying not to.

“Dude, what’s going on?” Nathan asks. I forgot that he’s standing next to me.

I blink and shake my head, shoving my free hand into my jeans pocket. “Nothing, I’m just exhausted,” I tell him. It’s true. My eyes are burning from how tired I am, and I’m sure my face doesn’t hide it.

“Obviously. Need another coffee?” Nathan suggests.

My heart shoots into my throat. “No! I mean, nah. I’m going home after this and crashing.” I’m finding it difficult to pretend to be casual, but why am I pretending? Why am I lying toNathan? We’ve been friends since middle school. Our families frequently call us by each other’s names to be funny. I’ve always been honest with him.

I’m being honest. What happened with Dante is meaningless. Inconsequential. It’s not related to anything I’m feeling right now, so there’s no reason to mention it.

I repeat this in my head a few times. However, my thighs are tense and those piercing blue eyes are burned into my mind.