“Oh, wow, I didn’t know that!” Jack stands. “This is officially my cue to get a second blueberry muffin.”

We walk together toward the short line of students waiting to order. “So, what are you studying?” he asks me.

“Accounting. You?”

Before he says anything, I think he’s in STEM, because, well, he kinda looks like the caricature, doesn’t he?

“STEM, sophomore year. I’m not sure what I’ll specialize in yet. There’s just so many options.”

Smiling to myself, I look at the choice of snacks and immediately start drooling. God, Liv wasn’t kidding.

There are a number of stuffed croissants, toasties, and salads, and another shelf with muffins, brownies, doughnuts, and cakes, all of which seem freshly made and delicious.

I spot one elaborate decorated pie behind the counter, on a cake stand under a transparent cloche.

That. I want that.

Jack orders his muffin with a pink haired waitress, and asks me what I’d like.

“Oh, I can get my own, I haven’t decided yet,” I lie, not wanting to offend him.

He smiles. “No worries. The muffins are to die for.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” I assure him as he walks back to Liv and Lily.

Once he’s gone, the barista smirks at me. “Poor guy. A bit out of his weight class with you, huh?”

I flush. “Rather, exactly in my weight class.” I feel a little wicked immediately, so I explain, “But he wasn’t hitting on me, I think; just being friendly. The thing is, I don’t have much money, so I don’t like people buying things for me. I can’t really return the favor.”

“Relatable,” she assures me. “So, have you picked something yet?”

“How much is the gorgeous pie over there?” I ask, pointing to the complex piece of patisserie.

It’s so beautiful, it’s kind of a shame to eat it, but two slices have already been cut out of it, so I don’t feel too bad.

The guy behind me snorts. “More than you can afford, Barbie.”

“Hey! Rude,” the waitress snaps, before I can.

I glance back at him, and lose my ability to say anything anyway. Not only because he’s gorgeous—what is there in the water in this town? Guys did not look like this back home—but because he feels…dangerous. That’s the only word I can think of. A shiver travels up my spine as I look at him.

“Just for that, you can have a slice,” the waitress tells me.

The guy’s eyes narrow at her. “No.”

She crosses her arms in front of her, her ample chest rising up. “I made it. I pick who can eat it. Anything else, love?”

“That’s my pie,” the guy practically growls.

“Nope. Today, it’s Barbie’s.”