He shakes his head and doesn’t respond, shoving his phone in his pocket when he’s done typing out a text.
“Let’s do this,” he says, rubbing his hands together.
We get to work and after about an hour of going over things I stand and stretch.
“I’m going to grab a coffee and come right back. Do you want anything?”
He flicks a piece of hair out of his eye. “Uh … a coffee sounds good and food. I’m starving.”
“You got it.” I grab my wallet from my backpack and head out.
Only two other groups are still working, whereas when we started there were five, and we only have the classroom for another hour. Hopefully, we’ll be done by then. If this drags on longer than that I think I might die.
I walk across campus, inhaling the crisp autumn air. I hear a couple of people talking about an upcoming school football game. I went to a few last year but that was only because Cade and Xander were playing. Since they’re no longer here, I haven’t bothered—besides, with Xander in the NFL, I’d rather go to one of their games if I’m going to sit through one.
I pull my phone from my pocket and type out a text to Jace—letting him know that we’re still working on the project. I told him this morning that I’d be working after class with Joel, but I figured I’d be done by now, and I don’t want him to worry.
He responds back almost immediately.
Jace: Hurry back. I miss you.
Me: I’ll make my lateness worthwhile. I promise. ;)
I smile to myself. Never in a million years did I imagine I’d ever be with Jace, or that I’d be sending him suggestive text messages.
I finally reach the small on-campus cafe and I’m forced to put my phone away before I can see his response.
I order coffee for Joel and myself, as well as a muffin for me and a personal pizza for Joel. I don’t know if the pizza will be any good, but I figure if he’s starving then it’s better than a muffin. I grab two waters while I’m there, figuring we’ll want that next.
Once our coffee and the food is ready I take the bag they put the food in, add the water bottles, and head back to the classroom.
“And then there was one,” he says when I enter the room, and I notice that all the groups have now left.
I sigh. “Lucky us.”
I hand him his coffee and bag with the food.
“Mmm, pizza,” he hums, pulling out the small cardboard box that holds it. “For you, I assume?” He finds the muffin and holds it up.
“Yep, thanks.” I take it from him.
“You got waters too.” He grins, pulling them from the bag. “You thought of everything.”
“Except napkins,” I grumble. “I think I have some tissues in my backpack, though.”
“Oh, yeah, didn’t think about that,” he agrees. “Greasy fingers and prints do not mix.”
“No, they don’t,” I agree.
I take a sip of coffee and look at how he’s arranged the photos. We’ve been rearranging them non-stop for the last hour, trying to figure out the best way to group them.
“Hey, I like this.” I point to the way he currently has them arranged.
He tips back the chair he’s sitting on so the front two legs come off the ground.
“You do? This is my favorite so far too.” He takes a bite of pizza and fights a smile.