Five Flavors of Dumb - Antony John [86]
“Okay,” I tried again. “Let’s do it this way. I’ll be Ed, and I’ll tell you how things really are. Just stop me when I get something wrong.” Ed shrugged in tacit agreement. “So, first off, I don’t actually like chess. In fact, I hate it. And in spite of an IQ that would place me in Mensa, I completely suck at it.” Ed stifled a laugh. “Good. Piper’s getting warmer. . . . So anyway, the reason I started playing is because it was the only way I could get Piper away from her clique. Except she didn’t know that, because she thinks the only cliques are ones everyone else wants to join.” Ed’s head bobbed up and down like it was agreeing with me without his consent. “And I even joined her freaky rock band, and saved it on several occasions, without so much as a word of thanks from that skanky ho manager.”
Ed spun around, palm raised. “Now you’re putting words in my mouth.”
“More or less, yeah,” I agreed. “Why? Did I get something wrong?”
He smiled, cleaned the filter with a cloth, and placed it back in the machine. Then he turned to face me again, to make it easier to read his lips, even though he wasn’t ready for eye contact just yet. “I really like you, Piper. I’ve liked you for a long time. . . . I like being near you.”
“Then why didn’t you say so?”
“Because I was nervous, I guess. About what you’d say if . . . if I asked you out.”
I was rocked by the urge to kiss him and punch him for wasting so much time. “I’d say yes, Ed. Definitely yes.”
He started tapping the counter, his nerves palpable in the cozy surroundings of the coffee shop. “Look, if you’re going to be hanging around here when I’m trying to close up, you need to learn to make your own coffee,” he said, pretending to be stern. “Come around the counter and I’ll show you how.”
I sighed, realizing yet again that neither of us had said what needed to be said. I wondered if we ever would.
Ed positioned me in front of the espresso machine and stood behind me. I turned my head, tried to begin the only conversation I cared about, but he brought a finger to his lips, silencing me. As he reached around me, I felt his breath across my ear and his chest pressing against my back. I held my breath as his hands rested over mine.
Like a gentle puppeteer he guided me to the grinder. Our left hands placed the filter underneath, while our right hands switched the grinder on and pulled a lever, releasing fresh, powdery coffee in cascading heaps. Then we lifted a metal object that looked like a paperweight and pressed the coffee into the filter. Our fingertips brushed with each movement, and although my hands felt weak and useless, he guided me with strength and patience. It was a wholly new and bewildering situation, yet I wanted there to be at least another fifty steps before the coffee was ready.
As we put the filter into the espresso machine, his face brushed my hair and I felt my heartbeat quicken. We placed a glass under the filter, and with the press of a single button, golden-brown liquid poured in like syrup. I let him lead me as we first steamed the milk, then mixed it with the coffee. But this time there was no flower gracing the surface of our drink—just a plain, simple heart.
I tilted my head back against his shoulder and cheek as I lifted the glass. I took a sip because it was our drink, and I even smiled approvingly too, but I had no idea how that coffee tasted. Every part of me was focused on Ed, daring him to pull away, but hoping he wouldn’t. Hoping, even, that he’d push things further.
I placed the cup on the counter and felt his cheek press against me, his hand pulling me around so I could see him. He cupped my face between his hands, and when our lips touched, his skin felt soft and warm. It was the smallest, gentlest, most earth-shattering kiss in the long and glorious history of kisses, and it took my breath away.
“What would your boss say if she walked in right now?” I asked, just needing a moment to stop hyperventilating.
Ed continued to gaze at me like the rest of the world had ceased to exist. “I think she’d say I’ve got good taste.”
I