Wrong

C
opyright
© 2015 by Jana Aston

All rights reserved.

N
o part
of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

E
dited
by RJ Locksley

Cover Design by JA Huss

"
S
ophie
, your favorite customer is here." Everly snaps a towel on my ass and grins at me.

"Everly, shut up! He'll hear you."

Fuck, I'm already blushing. Luke. He comes into the coffee shop every Tuesday morning. It's the highlight of my morning shift at Grind Me, a coffee shop just off campus. I work around my classes at the University of Pennsylvania. The Grind Me location I work at caters mainly to professionals and students living in off-campus apartments.

Luke definitely falls into the professional category. I'm not sure what he does, but he strolls into Grind Me in very expensive-looking suits and sharp ties. Nothing like the college boys in athletic pants and graphic-print tee shirts. He must be ten, fifteen years older than me. It doesn't matter. He's beautiful and I have a bit of a thing for him, which is bad because I have a boyfriend. An age-appropriate boyfriend. But it's just a harmless crush, right?

But Luke… he makes my panties wet just ordering coffee. He's tall, over six feet by my estimate. Thick dark hair, brown eyes and eyelashes any girl would kill for. He's wearing a dark gray suit today with a plum-colored tie. Fucking swoon.

His hands, I'm a little obsessed with them. Long fingers ending in short, impeccably clean nails. They just look… capable. I have a lot of fantasies involving his hands and my body. He's gotta know what he's doing with those hands. I bet he could get me off in minutes—those perfect fingers would know just where to curve while his thumb pressed down on my clit. He could probably make me come one-handed while he finished a phone call on his cell with the other.

I have a lot of fantasies about Luke based on nothing more than pouring him a cup of coffee every Tuesday and ringing him up. Always cash. I have no idea what his last name is. I wouldn't even know his first name if I hadn't listened in to one of his calls while he pulled a twenty from his wallet. "It's Luke, tell Dr. Kallam it's urgent, I'll hold."

Unfortunately, I don't think my fantasies are returned. I don't think he'd even know my name if it wasn't stamped in bold on a pin stuck to the front of my apron.

"Sophie." He always addresses me by name.
Good morning, Sophie. I'll have the dark roast, Sophie. I think you have a bit of whipped cream on your nose, Sophie.
That stuff splatters, okay? "Sophie?" Oh, shit. Has he been talking to me while I fantasized?

"Sorry! Um, daydreaming." He smirks at me. Bastard. "Large dark roast?"

"Please." He slides a five-dollar bill across the counter. "Have a great day, Sophie." He smiles again as he turns and strolls out of the shop. I watch him walk, free to eye-fuck him without being caught. The door jingles shut behind him but I keep watching until he's out of sight.

"Whew, that was hot." Everly fans herself with a takeout bag. "Sexual tension. Is it warm in here?"

"Stop it."

She loves teasing me. We go through this every week. He must hear her snickering in the background. And she ensures I'm the one who waits on him every time. If she's at the counter when he arrives she immediately finds something else to do so she can step back and watch me ogle him. It's embarrassingly obvious.

"Enough of the mysterious hottie. Are you going to put out and fuck Mike or not? You've made him wait like, a month? That's a long time in horny college-boy time. Plus, you're the oldest virgin on campus. Not even our campus. All the campuses."

"It's not my fault I dated a gay guy for two years." I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and cross my arms across my chest. I'm a little defensive about this.

"Hello? Earth to delusional. You didn't find it odd you were dating a twenty-year-old guy who never tried to stick his dick in you?" Everly dumps beans into the industrial-sized grinder and raises a skeptical eyebrow in my direction. I hand her a stack of one-pound Grind Me bags labeled for individual sale and lean against the opposite counter.

"I thought he respected me, not that he was afraid of vaginas," I tell her, kicking the rubber mat on the floor over an inch. "He let me suck him off." I add this in, hoping it's a valid point in my defense.

Everly snorts. "Yeah, with the lights off."

I bite my lip and look away.

"Oh my God! I was joking. I'm so sorry, Sophie. Shit, seriously? Guys love to watch themselves get sucked. But Scott was probably picturing a dude while his dick was in your mouth, so… Oh, fuck. I’m making this worse." Everly drops the coffee bag under the dispenser. Beans scatter across the counter and drop to the floor while she grabs me into a giant hug. "Lots of guys would love to fuck you, Sophie. I promise. Like Luke. That guy would love to stick it in you, he's just concerned you're jailbait. But you should start with Mike anyway. Tall, dark and handsome looks like he's packing a donkey dick."

"You've got a really charming way with words, Everly. You should write a book or something." I break out of her hug and grab the broom to sweep the coffee beans off the floor.

"Anyway, it's a go with Mike, right? Just get it over with. Mike will do, he's hot. I'd fuck him."

"Everly!"

"I wouldn't do him without a condom though. Safety first. And tell me you made an appointment with the student clinic. You should always have two forms of birth control, because I'm not ready to be a grandmother." Everly hops up onto the back counter and watches me sweep. "You missed a few to your left."

"Everly, you're twenty-one and we're not related. You wouldn't be the grandmother."

"Whatever. Semantics."

"That's not what semantics means. What are you majoring in again?" I glance over as she swipes a muffin from the bakery case and peels the wrapper back.

"I'm majoring in Professor Camden," she replies around a mouthful of muffin. "Which is better than this muffin. Jesus. Who pays for this crap?"

"Not you, clearly," I observe as she tosses the muffin into the trash. "Yes. I have an appointment at the clinic today after shift. I shaved my legs and everything." I pull an elastic from my wrist and gather my long brown hair into a ponytail before bending down to sweep Everly's mess into a dustpan.

"What about your vagina? Did you shave that?" Everly reaches back into the bakery case and extracts a brownie covered in caramel.

"Noooo," I respond slowly. "I don't think the gynecologist will expect me to be bald. Right?"

"Holy fuck. This brownie. Now this is good. Orgasmic good. How much are we charging for these things?" I'm guessing she doesn't care because she doesn't stop talking or check the shelf tag for a price. "Oh my God. Do you want a bite?" I shake my head no and she continues.

"I can't wait for you to have an orgasm. Not a brownie orgasm, a penis orgasm. Which you won't have this weekend unless Mike is really, really talented. Which he's not old enough to be, trust me. But that fucker better make you come with his tongue or fingers before he sticks it in you. ’Cause that is not going to feel great the first time or two. So yeah, Mike might want you bald. I'll hook you up with my girl Leah. Her waxing skills, amaze."

She drops the half-eaten brownie on the counter and pulls her cell phone from her pocket while I’m distracted with a customer. By the time I finish making a medium vanilla hazelnut latte and turn back to Everly, she's finished her phone call and gone back to devouring the brownie.

"You're all set. Thursday. I texted you the address. You're welcome."

"Everly! I never agreed to get waxed."

"Don't be a pussy. The gynecologist is more uncomfortable than a waxing. You're going to love it, trust me. The friction is so much better during sex. God." She smiles. "Plus even in your jeans. I swear you're going to be horny all day Friday with your bare vagina rubbing against your jeans."

I shake my head. "This conversation is so wrong."

"What are you girls talking about? Naked pillow fights at the dorm?"

"Shut up, Jeff." Everly doesn't even look up from her brownie.

"You can't speak to me that way, Everly. I'm your manager, it's insubordination." Jeff is a senior at the university, just like we are. His father owns this little chain of coffee shops and gave Jeff this one to manage.

"You can't sexually harass us either, yet you do. Why don't I conference-call your daddy and we can discuss my sexual harassment lawsuit while you lodge your insubordination complaint?”

"Fine," Jeff mutters. "At least get off the counter. And write down all the food you steal on the stale list. My inventory is always off when you work." He turns around and heads back into his office. It's not really an office, it's a desk he set up in the stock room—complete with an executive chair he picked up at Costco one weekend, dragging it through the back door like he was setting up shop to run a small empire, not manage other college students at a coffee house.

Everly hops off the counter muttering under her breath. "That guy's got a future ahead of him. In middle management, where he'll motivate no one and annoy everyone."

"He's not that bad, Everly." She gives me a look that says she disagrees. "Okay, he is that bad," I agree.

"Truth." She goes back to filling the one-pound bags of coffee and thankfully drops the topic of waxing. I'm not sure I intend to keep that appointment. The one I have later this morning is enough to think about.