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Caleb

“ T his is Stella Café,” Maddox says. “My friend said the manager’s going to come at around five and you can talk to her about a part-time job.”

“Thanks, Madd.”

He leads me inside the modern-looking coffee shop. There’s chatter all around and it’s filled to the brim with college students, though Maddox easily weaves us towards a two-seater table. He offers to get our orders, and I shrug, absently staring out the window.

Maddox soon comes back with two, absurdly tall, iced coffees with whipped cream, sliding mine in front of me. I frown. He’s always had a sweet tooth, but I did tell him to order me whatever.

“You’ve been here for a week now, made any new friends yet?” Maddox asks.

“What is this, kindergarten?”

He snorts. “I’ll take that as a no. What about the guys on your team?”

“They exist. A few of them are all right.”

Some of the guys are in my Economics class and they usually include me in their conversation, which is cool of them, I guess. Schultz is hilarious and entertaining, and he doesn’t let my shit-talking get to him. He’s probably the one I’ve been getting along with the most.

Walters is annoyingly uptight, and I don’t get along with Captain Rhys Morgan at all. I also can’t stand Morgan’s right-hand lackey.

Coincidentally, that would be Nick, my fabulously dull roommate.

“Meet any cute guys?” Maddox prods.

For fuck’s sake, I’ve barely been here for a week and he’s already trying to micromanage me. “None that have caught my eye.”

“Okay… have you been getting along with Nick?”

That gets a reaction from me. “He creeps me out.”

“What’s wrong with Nick? He’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.”

“He’s not nice. Keeps asking me how I’m doing and offering to show me around campus, introduce me to people, tell me which professors to get.”

“Uh, Caleb. That’s the definition of nice.”

Nick’s not nice. I’m convinced that it’s all an act, though I’ve only seen his facade slip once, and that was days ago during our very first practice. Since then, it’s like he’s been making it his life mission to be as polite as he can be, despite me purposely taunting him.

I shake my head, strangely invested in proving my point. “It’s all fake politeness, along with that fake smile of his. It’s seriously giving murderer vibes.”

Maddox bursts out laughing. “He hasn’t done anything to you to warrant such a strong reaction, Caleb.”

“I’m telling you… he’s not as great as you all think he is. He’s a fake-ass golden boy playing a role nobody asked him to.”

Beside us, someone clears their throat, and I raise my head to see who it is. Standing close to our table with to-go coffee in their hands is Rhys and, lo and behold, none other than Nick himself.

I grimace. The one time all week he leaves our dorm aside from practice and his classes, and he has to take a trip to the café while I’m shit-talking him to Maddox?

Rhys, who was probably the one who called our attention, glares at me. Nick’s shoulders are stiff, and his ears are red, but he’s staring out the door, as if he wants to go. I wish he would.

“You eavesdropping on us?” I ask, frowning. An odd, unpleasant sensation settles in my guts.

Guilt. That’s guilt I’m feeling.

“Caleb,” Maddox reprimands.

“Hard not to when your voice is that loud,” Rhys tells me. “You’re an ass, Jennings.”

I put a hand to my chest and mock a gasp. “Oh, no.”

Nick puts a hand on Rhys’s arm and pushes him slightly, still avoiding looking at me. His eyes are darting around the place. “Can we go?”

Rhys says to him, voice low but still audible, “Relax. She’s not here. You’re the one who wanted to get a drink.”

Who’s not here?

Nick mutters, “Rhys, let’s just go.”

Rhys grunts and heads out, and Nick finally meets my eyes with his deep brown ones. It sends a weird tingling sensation down my spine, and I want to blame it on the crazy vibe he constantly gives out. Nick’s gaze flickers past me and lands on Maddox.

“Nice seeing you,” Nick says, cracking a smile. He nods at Maddox, who smiles brightly back at him. What the actual fuck? Maddox does not smile that way, most especially to jocks.

“That was embarrassing,” Maddox says once they’re gone. “For you, I mean.”

“If you tell me you have a crush on Nick Sandoval, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“I don’t do jocks, remember? I think he’s nice is all. Besides, is he even into guys?”

“I wouldn’t know. What the hell?” This entire thing’s going to drive me to an early grave. I grumble under my breath and finally take a sip from my untouched drink, only to gag at how damn sweet it is. “If I end up working here, I’m not making it like this.”

“It tastes fine.”

“No, it’s too sweet. It tastes shitty.” A movement behind the counter catches my eye. A young woman’s just arrived, and since her apron’s black instead of green like the other staff, I point at her. “Is that the manager?”

Maddox glances over his shoulder. “Yeah. She should know you’re coming.”

I get up. “Excuse me, need to secure myself a job.”

“Don’t forget to dazzle them with your oh so pleasant personality,” he deadpans, earning a laugh from me.

***

It’s late when I get back to my dorm, and Nick is sitting cross-legged on his bed with his laptop perched on his thighs. Probably watching his stupid shows again. He glances at me when I get in and slips his headphones on, and his laptop goes quiet.

He always puts his headphones on when I’m here, and it took me a while to realize it was so that the noise wouldn’t bother me.

Funny, because I play my music at full blast when I want to. Honestly, I didn’t realize that was rude until Nick happened.

“Here.” I reach out to hand him a box with a chocolate cupcake in it. The manager gave it to me as a welcome gift, telling me I could start next Tuesday. She said to look for a girl named Jessie when I got there, who’d show me the ropes.

Nick pauses his show, takes his headphones off, and takes the box. “What’s this?”

“Peace offering.”

He snorts, which is one of the most genuine reactions I’ve ever gotten from him. Nick opens the box and pulls out the cupcake, eyeing it for a second before biting into it.

His expression lightens up and color comes to his cheeks, and I can’t help but stare at how he licks away the crumbs on his lower lip.

“Thanks! I love sweets,” he says, grinning widely.

I give him a hard stare. “Great, because I got a part-time job at the place. I think I’ll be bringing back a lot of sweets.”

Nick jolts, his fingers tightening around the cupcake. “You got a job at Stella?”

“Yeah? What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” he mutters. Nick shoves his headphones back on and unpauses his show, and I stare at him for too long trying to figure what the heck that was. He continues to eat the cupcake, his attention focused on his screen. Frowning, I put my jacket away and sit on my bed.

It’s not until he finishes the cupcake and starts licking the frosting off his fingers that I realize I’m staring. Baffled by myself, I finally look away.

Honestly, maybe I’m watching him so closely because I’m still annoyed that he’s not even bothering to bring up what I said. I called him a fake-ass golden boy, and he doesn’t care? Just took my peace offering and thanked me for it?

It only proves my point, really. He’s definitely got a few screws loose.

Unfortunately for him, I’m not giving him any peace. I get up and walk over to the side of his bed. He glances up, taking off his headphones once more when I gesture at them.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“The shit I said. It doesn’t bug you?”

The corner of his mouth twitches as if he’s going to smile, then he stops himself. “It’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“I’m not beating myself up over it.”

He shrugs. “All I’m saying is… don’t worry about it.”

The way he says it is so… genuine. It’s creeping me out. “You’re seriously okay with me saying you have the vibes of a murderer?”

Nick makes a strangled noise, then bursts out laughing. “I didn’t even hear that.”

“So it doesn’t bother you? Doesn’t piss you off?”

Why I’m pushing for an answer is beyond me, but I want to get a damn read on this guy.

“Of course it bothered me. It hurt my feelings, if that’s what you wanted to hear.” The way his jaw clenches tells me he’s telling the truth. “But it’s fine. I can’t please everyone. Thank you for the peace offering, though. I appreciate it.”

I blink at him. When his stare flickers to my fists, I realize I’m clenching them. Sighing, I lay my hands flat against my jeans and force myself to relax.

“All right,” I say, turning around and walking away.

Fuck. I was wrong.

He’s not a fake-ass golden boy.

No… Nick Sandoval’s a fucking doormat .