Chapter 1

"I still can't get over that homeless guy who swiped my coffee last week.  The weirdest crap always happens to me." I recall the grungy fellow who wore a green beanie and a foul odor.

Kate groans. "You've got to learn to let things go." She smirks as we wait for our drinks.

"I can't help it. If people weren't such idiots, things would be a lot simpler," I complain.

I check the time on my phone. Jesus, what is taking the barista so long? I have class in fifteen minutes. I don't like to be late, especially to the initial meeting. I think it gives a bad first impression, and I like to stay in the professor's good graces because you never know when you might need to call in a favor.

The coffee shop continues to bustle with activity, the bell tinkles every time the door opens and a customer comes in from the cold, their warm breath clearly visible as they exhale into the frosty air near the entrance.

"SHERRY," the barista calls.

"It's about damn time," I grumble to Kate, checking the time on my phone again as I walk to the pick-up area, realizing my fifteen minutes has dwindled to seven. Shit.

When I reach the counter, I'm surprised and confused by its emptiness. "You called out a drink for Sherry?" I ask the barista.

"I put it there for you." I notice her purple highlights and throwback cat's-eye glasses as she peruses the area with a knitted brow.

Can't people get anything right? I turn and scan the shop, noticing a guy with a green beanie at the sugar counter. If this is that homeless guy again, I'm gonna hafta pound his face in. My mouth agape in disbelief, I wait for him to turn around so I can see his face. That bastard. My eyes squint and my fists clench in my mittens. I am ready to rumble.

He turns around at about the same rate of speed it takes the earth to rotate on its axis (slow as fuck), but when he does, exquisite green eyes bore into my blue ones deep enough that I feel violated. But in a good way.

This is no homeless dude. My heart stops as I'm momentarily entranced by his gaze and I quickly sized up the rest of him. A combination of dark waves and ringlets escape from beneath the edge of his green beanie. His eyes are so large, so wide, so green.

But that isn't the last of it, God has blessed this guy with lips that warm my being to its very core. His top lip is covered in - what's that? Whipped cream that comes on a TRIPLE VENTI WHITE CHOCOLATE MOCHA? I notice my name SHERRY written in bold, black Sharpie on the cup, and a slight grimace appears on his face as he realizes the warm beverage he sips is not his own. Goddammit. Cute but stupid. Every. Single. Time.

"HARRY!" The barista calls the next order. AH. Harry. I smirk.

Harry walks up to the counter where I stand, hands on my hips in annoyance. "You took my drink," I state dryly. Wow. He was tall. Fit. Uhm.

"Pardon?" he says, looking at the cup, rotating it until he sees the name written on it is not his own. "No wonder it tastes like that." He laughs, embarrassed enough to briefly cover his face with a sizable hand adorned in silver rings, the one on his middle finger emblazoned with the word Peace. "I am incredibly sorry. I guess the sound of our names, Harry/Sherry. . . I need to get more rest or something." The sound of my name falling from those plump, pink lips is a thrill that cannot be described.

Paralyzed by a flurry of emotion, annoyed by his ignorance, and concerned about being late to class, the realization dawns on me that my beverage has been contaminated by those lips. God only knows the places those lips have been. I fiddle with my gloved fingers, wanting to gripe at him, but he's so cute and polite, I'm rendered powerless. What is happening to me?

"Let me buy you a new drink," he offers politely, smiling. Obviously he isn't in a hurry.

"There's no time for that," I snap, my bitchy self back in the saddle. "I'm late to class." Ugh. Oh well, if he'd been paying closer attention this wouldn't have happened. My wrath is justified.

His smile dims but doesn't evaporate as he stumbles for a solution, "Umm - do you want mine that they just called?" He picks up the new drink with his name on it from the counter. Oh, I guess he can read now. "It's a chai tea? I realize it's not a sweet coffee, but..."

"I guess I don't have much choice since I'm already late to class now, do I?" I accept the cup from his hand, thankful that I'm still wearing my mittens so I don't have to touch him skin to skin. Gulp. Is it getting warm in here?

A bit dismayed by my attitude, he apologizes a final time. "Again, I'm so sorry." His eyes take in my face and a grin plays about the corner of his lips. "You certainly are a feisty one."

What? Is he attempting to parlay this disaster into friendly banter?

"Kate!" The barista calls out and Kate approaches the counter. I'd almost forgotten she was here.

"Good Lord, they're slow today." Kate's eyes dart back and forth between Harry and I as we continue the remains of our standoff.

Harry clears his throat, "Um, I've got to get to class as well." The final head to toe once-over he gives me almost slides by undetected, but not quite. "Again, sorry for that. See you around."

The bell on the door tinkles upon his exit as I stare after him with my mouth open. As he walks down the sidewalk, he turns and looks back through the window with a smirk, his eyes meeting mine in a sea of greens and blues, his warm breath in puffs on the wind.