Sweet Little Nothing

Mr. Muscles grins down at me. “Pretty sure I should be asking you that. You slammed into me pretty hard, sweets.”

I can feel my cheeks heat to near nuclear levels. “I’m fine,” I squeak.

“That you are. Got a name?”

My knees threaten to drop me on my ass, not out of attraction, but fear. All at once, it dawns on me how close this giant, strange man is. He could do anything to me, and I’d be helpless to defend myself. He’s built like a brick shithouse, nearly three times my size.

“Um.” My entire body shakes as I back away from him.

“Hey, whoa.” He holds his hands up. “I’m not going to hurt you, sweets. You’re safe.”

I don’t realize I’m crying until he reaches out and wipes away my tears.

Is it possible to die from humiliation? I scoff at myself. I know good and well it’s not, because if it were, I’d have been six feet under long ago.

“S-s-sorry,” I stammer out the single word, wishing like hell I could teleport myself back to the safety of my suite.

Mr. Muscles smiles down at me in a way that’s far too soft for his size. “You’re good, no apologies needed.” He takes a small step back, his hands still held out in front of him. “Let’s try again. I’m Gabe, and you are?”

“Emmy.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Emmy.” He reaches out to shake my hand, but seems to think better of it and lets his arm drop before I can clasp his hand.

“It’s, um, nice to meet you, too. And I’m... really sorry for running into you.” I toe at the ground. “And I’m sorry for being such a mess, too.”

“What did I say? No apologies needed.” He winks. Any other guy, and I’d scoff, but somehow Gabe makes it work. “Am I allowed to ask where you’re headed?”

I hesitate to answer him, a fact that doesn’t escape him.

“Before you go thinking I’m a stalker, I’m only asking because I’m hungry and was hoping you’d do me the honor of joining me.”

I gulp, torn on how to reply. On one hand, Gabe’s intentions could be strictly platonic; on the other... well, I’m not even remotely prepared to consider the other. For a second it felt like he was flirting, but I’m so out of touch with anything resembling romance that I can’t be sure.

“Listen,” he says, leveling me with a look that’s as warm as it is stern. “No offense, but you remind me a little of a lost puppy, and I’ve never been able to resist feeding a stray. So, brunch, on me. No strings, no funny business. Just a meal between potential friends.”

I weigh his words, searching for the truth. When I don’t see as much as a hint of deception in his crystalline green eyes, I find myself accepting his invitation.

“I was actually on my way to eat, so um, I guess we could do it together. Eat, I mean. We could eat together.”

Gabe quirks a brow, like he’s not quite sure what to do with me.

That makes two of us, Mr. Muscles.

“Where were you headed?”

“Holy Roasters.”

He rumbles his approval. “After you.”

I shoot him a weak smile and resume walking.

“You’re a freshman, right?” Gabe asks.

“That obvious?”

He imitates a dog whimpering. “Little. Lost. Puppy.”

Indignation burns in my chest. “I was doing just fine until we collided.”

A deep, masculine chuckle is his only reply.

“What?”

“Sweets,” he sighs. “You were walking with your eyes trained on the ground like it held all of the answers to the universe. I’d been standing still when you walked into me. You legit didn’t notice me. I’m six-five and two-hundred-and-eighty pounds. I’m kind of hard to miss.”

“So, maybe I was a little distracted?”

He reaches past me, holding the door to the cafe open for me. The smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon greet me, beckoning me inside.

“Or…” He lets the door close behind him. “Maybe you didn’t want to draw attention by making eye contact with anyone.”

Or maybe I felt like someone was watching me and the feeling made me want to crawl in a hole and never come out... potato, po-tah-to.

“Something like that,” I murmur, scanning the menu.

Gabe hums thoughtfully, but the barista greets us before he can reply.

“Welcome to Holy Roasters, what can I get y’all today?”

The beast of a man behind me prompts me to order first. “Um, a coffee, black, and a cinnamon roll.”

“And you?”

“Oh, we’re separate,” I mumble, but Gabe talks right over me. “I’ll also take a coffee, black, but with room for cream. A green smoothie, a breakfast burrito, a banana, and a blueberry muffin.”

My jaw practically unhinges at the amount of food he orders.

“Gotta keep my figure.” He winks and pats his belly.

“That’ll be twenty-two fifty.”

“But, we’re not—”

Gabe bustles me behind him and then passes the barista his card, paying for my order along with his, despite my protests.