The Dare That Never Ended

Lena’s Perspective

It’s him.

The moment I saw him step through the glass doors of EspressoBAR, I spun away from the entrance so fast a sharp pain shot up the side of my neck.

Of all the coffee shops in all the cities in the entire world, of all the neighborhoods he could wander into, Adrian Cole had to walk into this one?

My luck had never been great, but this felt like the universe personally deciding to ruin my day.

For the past few weeks, I had finally started to feel like my life in New York was coming together. I’d gotten comfortable working the register here. I had even sold a couple of short articles online—nothing big, but enough to prove she wasn’t crazy for leaving home.

Maybe, just maybe, a farm girl from New Jersey could survive in the big city. Apparently, the universe disagreed.

Because standing near the door, scanning the menu board like he had all the time in the world, was the last man i ever wanted to see again.

Adrian Cole, former teaching assistant for my literature class at Hudson State University. The man responsible for the single most humiliating moment of my life.

Seeing Adrian standing in my café made a completely different thought pop into my head.

Maybe I should go home.

Right now.

My parents probably wouldn’t even ask questions if I showed up and offered to help milk cows again.

Anything sounded better than facing Adrian Cole across a coffee counter.

I forced myself to breathe and glanced at the line of customers instead of the slow-moving disaster approaching me.

Four customers stood between us.

Four small shields protecting me from total embarrassment.

He prolly wouldn’t recognize me.

I turned back to the man standing in front of the register and handed him his change with the brightest smile I could manage.

“Thanks for coming in,” I said brightly.

Three customers left.

Behind them, Adrian stepped into line, pulling his phone from his pocket and glancing down at it. For a moment he looked distracted, like he had somewhere else to be.

Maybe he’d get a call and leave.

Maybe a meteor would hit the café.

Unfortunately, that didn’t seem likely.

And the worst part?

He still looked extremely hot.

Tall with a broad physique that made him look more like bad guy than someone who graded essays for a living. 

Back in Uni, half the girls in their literature class had developed crushes on him within the first week.

Especially me.

Which, of course, had led to that night. That stupid, ridiculous night. 

“Here you go,” I said to the next customer, sliding her receipt across the counter.

Two people left.

Three years ago, during one of those late-night study sessions that had turned into something closer to a mini party, a few of my friends and I had gotten a very dumb idea.

We’d decided to write our phone numbers on our final exam papers just to see what Adrian would do.

Adrian only called one of us.

I swallowed and focused on the register again.

One person left.

My best hope now was that Adrian wouldn’t recognize me.

After all, I didn’t look exactly the same anymore.

After Uni, i had traded my muddy-brown hair for a vibrant auburn, my contact lenses for big, slightly quirky glasses.

And somewhere between graduation, stress, and New York rent prices, I had lost about twenty pounds.

In theory, I should look like a completely different person.

The last customer stepped away. Adrian moved forward.

My heart started pounding.

Right then, one of the baristas rushed past behind me carrying a tray of pastries. On impulse, I reached up and grabbed the red Santa hat off his head.

Before he could protest, I pulled it down over my own hair, tugging the brim low.

“Hi,” I said, trying to sound normal. “What can I get for you?”

“Regular coffee.”

His voice sent a strange little shiver down my spine.Somehow it sounded exactly the same as I remembered.

Adrian looked up just long enough to hand me a bill. His eyes paused briefly on my face.

“Cute hat,” he said.

“Happy holidays,” I replied quickly.

I handed him his change and pointed toward the pick-up counter.

“Your coffee will be ready in just a minute.”

Please go.

Please don’t stare at me. Please don’t remember me.

“Thanks,” he said casually.

He slipped the coins into his pocket and walked toward the other side of the café without another glance.

My shoulders sagged with relief.

I turned to the next woman in line with a wide smile.

Thank goodness he hadn’t…..

“Excuse me.”

My entire body froze.

Slowly, I looked up.

Adrian had stepped back to the counter.

“Yes?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Maybe he needed directions to the restroom.

Maybe he couldn’t find the sugar station.

Maybe…..

He studied my face carefully.

His eyes narrowed slightly, like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

“Do I know you?” he asked. “You look very familiar.”