Free If Only by A. J. Pine Page B

Jordan. I’m Noah.”

A Scottish Kind of Life
    (Mid-October)
    “Life is like playing a violin solo in public and learning the instrument as one goes on.”
    E. M. Forster
    A Room with a View

Chapter Eight
    “Try it!” The rolling of her r somehow makes the request sound much more like a command. Or maybe it’s that she’s yelling. But that’s the usual for Elaina—loud.
    “But it’s so…” I’m searching for the right word, trying to justify my hesitation though not wanting to insult her. “… thick .” I say. “I like my tea.”
    I’m starting to whine, which I should know by now has zero effect on Elaina other than annoying the shit out of her.
    “No luck?” The familiar voice comes from behind me, and I turn to see Griffin standing in the kitchen doorway. He’s become a regular fixture around here, my Mr. Right Now. He’s been sleeping here on Thursday nights for the past month, ever since classes started. Sleeping here means that—sleeping. The first time he spent the night, Griffin put all the cards on the table. I’m only here for a few months. Even if I did serious, there wouldn’t be much of a point. But I like you, and I want to be with you for as long as it works. How about this? If either of us thinks it’s moving in that direction, we just stop, spare ourselves the drama. I agreed. He wanted what I wanted, and despite my earlier judgment, he was a good guy, honest. Not a man-whore, just someone who couldn’t commit long-term, and for the first time, that’s exactly what I was looking for.
    On Fridays we start class at the same time, so it kind of made sense. He’s a pretty good spooner, and kisser, and sometimes more than kisser. I’ve told Sam all about him, including us sleeping together but not sleeping together, yet. Her response is always the same: What are you waiting for?
    It hasn’t felt right. That’s the only explanation. And Griffin never pressures me, never shows an ounce of impatience, because I think we both know that sex could be a game changer for our situation. Maybe there will be a cosmic sign, a new constellation that will form just to let me know tonight is the night. Until then, I’ll keep checking the skies.
    “It’s just a coffee!” Elaina throws her hands up in exasperation. I don’t blame her. I cause her to exasperate quite a bit.
    “It looks like pudding,” I protest. “See what happens when I spoon in some sugar?”
    I demonstrate for Griffin. When I let the granules drop from the spoon into the cup, they rest on top of the liquid, slowly seeping in one grain at a time.
    “That’s not coffee,” I tell him. “It’s paste.”
    Griffin reaches for the cup in front of me and brings it to his lips. He raises his eyebrows and then throws back the whole thing as if it’s a shot.
    For a month now, Elaina’s been offering to make me a Turkish coffee each time she makes her own, and for a month I’ve politely refused, preferring to stick with tea. This morning, for some reason, she decided I’m trying the coffee no matter what. What she didn’t anticipate, however, is Griffin coming to my rescue.
    He hands the cup back to me looking no worse for the wear.
    “It’s a little too sweet with all that sugar, but otherwise not bad.”
    Elaina catches his infectious smile.
    I put the cup on the table, then place my hands on his cheeks.
    “My hero!” I declare, in my best damsel-in-distress voice. Then I plant one right on his still-warm coffee lips, which of course sends Elaina right back into exasperation.
    “Tomorrow,” she says. “I am hiding your tea until you try the coffee!”
    She walks out of the kitchen in a huff, but as soon as she’s out of view, I hear her laugh quietly. We’ve sort of fallen into this rhythm. I make her crazy, but she still loves me. She makes me try various foods and beverages against my will, and I still love her. She is my Sam away from Sam, though Sam and I text at least once a week. Until my mom or dad puts