“Spencer’s, right?” Brayden asked when we exited to downtown shortly thereafter.

I was still so baffled by the kiss that it took me a moment to remember I’d promised Ms. Terwilliger a cappuccino. “Right.”

Just before we turned the corner toward the street Spencer’s was on, Brayden suddenly made an unexpected stop at a florist shop. “Be right back,” he said.

I nodded wordlessly, and five minutes later, he returned and handed me a large bouquet of delicate, pale pink roses. “Thank you?” I said, making it more of a question. Now, in addition to the kiss and “amazing” declaration, I’d somehow earned flowers too.

“They’re not adequate,” he admitted. “In traditional floral symbolism, orange or red would have been more appropriate. But it was either these or some lavender ones, and you just don’t seem like a purple person.”

“Thank you,” I said, more firmly this time. As I breathed in the roses’ sweet scent on the way to Spencer’s, I realized that no one had ever given me flowers before.

We reached the coffee shop soon thereafter. I got out of the car, and in a flash, Brayden was right by my side so that he could shut the door for me. We went inside, and I was almost relieved to see Trey working. His teasing would be a nice return to normality, seeing as my life had just detoured into Crazyland.

Trey didn’t even notice us at first. He was speaking intently to someone on the other side of the counter, a guy a little older than us. The guy’s tanned skin, black hair, and similar facial features tipped me off pretty quickly that he and Trey were related. Brayden and I waited discreetly behind the guy, and Trey finally looked up, an astonishingly grim expression on his face that was pretty out of character. He looked surprised when he saw us, but then seemed to relax a little.

“Melbourne, Cartwright. Here for a little post-windmill caffeine?”

“You know I never drink caffeine after four,” said Brayden. “But Sydney needs something for her teacher.”

“Ah,” said Trey. “The usual for you and Ms. T?”

“Yeah, but make mine iced this time.”

Trey gave me a knowing look. “Need to cool down a little, huh?”

I rolled my eyes.

The guy ahead of us was still standing around, and Trey nodded toward him while grabbing two cups. “This is my cousin Chris. Chris, this is Sydney and Brayden.”

This must have been Trey’s “perfect” cousin. At a glance, I saw little that marked him as better than Trey, except maybe his height. Chris was pretty tall. Not Dimitri-tall, but still tall. Otherwise, they both had similar good looks and an athletic build. Chris even had some of the same bruises and scrapes Trey often sported, making me wonder if there was a family connection to sports as well. Regardless, Chris hardly seemed like anyone Trey should be intimidated by, but then, I was biased by our friendship.

“Where are you here from?” I asked.