1
There’s something wrong with me.
Not maybe.
Definitely.
There’s no other explanation for what I’m thinking right now. What I’m feeling.
What exactly is the feeling bothering me so much?
The fact I’m extremely turned on by the strange man staring at me from across the cafe. I caught him out of the corner of my eye. I refuse to look at him and give him the satisfaction of knowing how he’s affecting me. I’ve an inkling he knows precisely what his intense stare is doing to me; he probably does it to lots of women.
He just has that look about him. You know, the one where his ruffled wavy black hair that touches the nape of his neck just so is perfect, his face is slight scruffy but not enough to count as anything less than sexy, and his lowered eyes make you think he’s not been out of bed long. Yes, he looks like he wants to go back to bed and take someone with him.
And I think the person he wants right now is me.
But, that’s too bad, because I don’t know him.
I’m also not single.
Not that me having a boyfriend is a deterrent. My boyfriend and I have a special arrangement. However, it doesn’t mean I can do whatever I want, or fuck whomever I want.
There are rules.
And this man is making me want to break every single one of them.
Hence, why there’s something really fucking wrong with me in this instant.
When my friend, Ethan, takes a seat across from me and blocks the view of the other man, I’m beyond grateful. I grin, which Ethan mirrors back at me, and nods at the latte he’s placed in front of me.
“Drink up and tell me, what’s up with Professor Ryan? He seemed to have a bug up his ass about something this morning,” he says. “I wanted to bitch slap him.”
Snickering at his scrunched up nose, which makes him look silly but amuses me like nothing else, I take a sip of my latte and shrug. “I think he was pissed so many people were behind on their projects. He wanted to see what people had done, but nobody really did anything yet.”
“Except you. You’re always prepared. A teacher’s pet.”
“You don’t get a perfect GPA by being lazy and leaving things until the last second,” I tease him, knowing he’s got a nearly perfect GPA even though he's a procrastinator. “Well, except you. You’re almost there.”
“We both know that teacher gave me an A-minus because she heard me bragging about how I never do my work ’til the last second and had a perfect GPA because I’m a genius.” He gives me a mock scowl, then winks at me.
“You probably went too far with the genius comment.”
He laughs and sits back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head as he turns to stare out the window. I swear, Ethan has the most flawless profile. He might be one of the few people I’ve ever met who has a near symmetrical face in all aspects like myself. We've been friends since we were babies. Our mothers had us in the same hospital on the same day and shared a room, and we’ve been pretty much inseparable every single day since. People often mistake us as relatives, since we share light brown hair and blue eyes, which is perfectly okay with both of us since we are completely platonic.
For the record, my life isn’t like a romance novel. Ethan and I suddenly aren’t going to say, “oh my god, I’m in love with you!” because no, it’s just not like that. We are literally like brother and sister — I’m the sister he never had and he’s the brother I never had. He has two older brothers, but me, I’m an only child and my parents pride and joy. And Ethan looks out for me in a way nobody else ever has and our relationship is sacred. Not even my boyfriend would dare to speak against how close we are if he were inclined to say something, which he isn’t.
Ethan and I are solid. My boyfriend and I are solid.
And when Ethan leans over toward the window to squint at something, I find my eyes locked on the strange man across the cafe who looks up at that exact moment.