New Romantics

Chapter 2

Say something. Wave. Stop gawking for crying out loud.

Just as I opened my mouth, the barista said, "Next, please!" I lurched to the counter, half shouting, half mumbling,

"One medium lavender oat milk latte, iced, please!"

When she flinched at the volume of my voice, I wanted to evaporate. I gave her a fifty-percent tip to make up for it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Leo hadn't removed his gaze, and my heart gave a violent thud. This time out of embarrassment. I hadn't seen Leo after our little exchange on my balcony. Not that it was something completely out of the ordinary. We barely saw each other in passing before he crash-landed outside my window. But now—here—what could that mean?

That you're two people who go to the same small university, the logical part of me observed. You're bound to run into each other sooner or later.

Or it could be fate! The hopeless romantic part sighed dreamily, all warm and fuzzy in my chest. A meet-cute to end all meet-cutes!

I bit my lip. I didn't—shouldn't—think anything of it. But as I paid for my drink and stepped away from the counter, my cheeks warmed and a little bit of hope fluttered through me.

"Hi, Leo," I said as I approached him, trying my hardest not to sound like a schoolgirl speaking to the dreamy captain of the football team for the first time. Nervous energy hummed just beneath the surface of my skin and clutched my Kindle tight.

"Hi, Aria," he said with a polite smile.

"How's your head?"

"My head?" he repeated, surprised.

"Oh! I mean—from the fall. Saturday night? You sort of dove out your window for a bet. You actually landed right on my balcony." His face twisted with confusion. "You remember that...don't you?"

Behind us, a group of DTE frat boys burst through the café doors like it was the start of a Saturday morning tailgate, their voices invading every bit of quiet they could get a hold of, and Leo bristled. "Right. It's... a bit fuzzy right now."

"A concussion can do that to you."

He exhaled a humorless laugh between his teeth. "And vodka."

Swaggering into line, the disgruntled group of boys sounded like they were arguing about something so important, the entirety of the library's café needed to hear their conflicting viewpoints. The sound mixed with the hiss and whir of the coffee machines and the suddenly-grating tap of keyboards, pressing into my temples, my ears, and the base of my throat until my skin felt too tight against my bones.

The gravity of my exam punched me in the gut for good measure.

I needed to get out of there. I needed quiet. Before my head exploded.

"Medium flat white!"

"Dude! You don't understand! Princess Diana was a royal in her own right!"

"But she wasn't the—"

All of that stopped when, suddenly, Leo was in front of me. I stiffened, the counter digging into my lower back, and my brain short-circuited as he paused only when we were fractions of an inch away from touching.

Rational thought left with it; the scent of him engulfed me. It smelled expensive and smoky. I expected fireworks, falling rose petals, and white doves right out of an epic desi romance.

Holy crap, his eyes are so fucking blue.

Leo's arm slid around me, and I tensed with anticipation for the warmth of his hand on my waist. The warmth never came, of course.