MILLIE
Caleb wasn’t just a former barista. He was a coffee fanatic.
He knew the difference between different roasts and beans. He swore he could taste the nuance in a brew, and he rarely drank any coffee he didn’t make himself.
“It might be cheaper to have a coffee pot in your office,” I remarked offhand.
He shook his head. “No, automatic pots will burn the coffee.”
It was liquid. How could you possibly burn liquid?
Typing away at my tablet, I finished annotating some of his notes before spinning around in my seat. Caleb was in-between classes, grading a quiz. Based on his expression, the answers weren’t promising.
“Well, I need a pick-me-up and a sandwich,” I declared. “I forgot to pack a lunch.”
He didn’t move. “All right, that’s fine.”
I rolled my eyes. “I meant we should get out and get something to eat. It’s not healthy to sit this long.”
His blue gaze shifted up at me. A hand in his hair, Caleb was a shock to the system, like ice water. Those piercing stares were a polar plunge for the soul.
“Why don’t you just order a lemonade and enjoy the sunshine?” I suggested. “You’re going to turn to dust sitting in here.”
“Fine,” he surrendered, putting down his red pen. “I’ll tag along. I’ve got a free period before my next class, anyway.”
He acted so resistant, but I saw the smile hiding at the corners of his mouth.
“Your free period is my work time,” I remarked while grabbing my bag to head out. “I need your feedback to pull all these notes together.”
“We have plenty of time for that,” he persuaded me, standing up before I had another chance to decline. “Besides, I thought you just said we should enjoy the sunshine.”
“I also suggested you should get a coffee pot here,” I pointed out. “You shot that down faster than Buffalo Bill.”
“Who?”
“The famous sharpshooter of the west?” I explained in skeptical surprise.
“Oh, of course,” he realized. “I knew that.”
It had been over a week of us working together, our second Friday in this collaboration, and I was starting to get the feeling Caleb liked letting me win. Even as he grumbled, the absent-minded professor pushed up the caramel sleeves of his thin sweater and followed me out onto the city sidewalks, talking about Chicago. He had told me that he was from Houston, only moving to Chicago for work three years’ earlier. After all that time, he still didn’t love the windy city.
“It’s too cold,” he complained as we stopped at a crosswalk.
“I lived in Ireland for a year,” I reminded him. “This weather isn’t too bad compared to Dublin. It wasn’t so cold, but it was wet most of the time. It was bucketing down all spring and fall.”
“I would love to visit Ireland. What were you doing there?”
“I was working for a professor of medieval studies,” I explained. “He was part of a study abroad partnership with the university. Some students here had gone over to work with him, and, well, I was sent too.”
“I guess that’s how you know so much,” Caleb mused. “All your tidbits of information you keep bringing up.”
So, he had noticed?
“I always love history,” I professed. “It’s always been my favorite thing to explore. It feels like time travel.”
“Well, it’s not as old as space or the universe.”
“Nothing’s as old as the universe,” I countered. “Not even dirt.”