We decide to meet at the campus coffee shop but the smack of roasted coffee beans to my senses is enough to make me heave. Ordering a hot chocolate heaped with whipped cream and cinnamon definitely lightens my mood. When I spot Seth, head bent over sheets of paper spread across his table, all my senses evaporate. I'm aware of nothing but the aching pound in my chest.

"Hey," I greet, sliding in the booth across from him.

He glances up, pushing his long sleeves up to his forearms to reveal the tattoos painted on his skin. They're confusing. Some are soft and gentle—almost feminine—while others are harsh, angry, and maybe even a little twisted. Those are the ones that scare me. The ones that tell me he's had a dark past and it weaves deep into who he is. One color, thousands of shades, mapped out to create an entire story. He's a tapestry of scars and blood and shadows, interwoven with beauty and goodness and light.

The mysteries inked into his flesh feel foreign and far away. They don't belong to the guy I know... but maybe I don't really know him. I don't like to think about his unknowns. I like the soft tattoos. The ones that speak of hope and new beginnings.

For someone who is so concrete and mysterious, it's nice to picture him with a tender side. The kind of guy who'd spend hours immersed in the imaginative world of a child, or who would weed the garden with his mom just for the joy of conversation. The type of guy who'd park along the shoulder of the road to watch a sunset, or who's not afraid to admit when he's lonely or scared or in love.

But maybe he's not that guy.

I wouldn't know, because I don't really know him. And yet, I'm so into him that I have to wonder if I've lost all sensibility. Is Seth really as safe as my mind has made him up to be?

"Mercy. Hey." His greeting feels limp and I take the brief moment while he shuffles his pages into a neat stack to observe just how tired he looks.

"You okay?" I find myself asking, leaning down to get a better view of his face. His eyes meet mine and his brows furrow in question.

"Yeah." He sounds unsure, but maybe he's just startled by my observation.

"You just look like you've been working yourself hard."

"Naw." He shakes his head and takes in a deep breath. "My mom's in town and wants to meet up."

"Oh," I smile, nodding. "Sounds terrible."

He leans back in his seat, one hand still fiddling with his pen. "You have no idea." He removes his baseball cap, ruffles his dark hair around a bit, and then slides it back on.

His green eyes meet mine, almost challenging me to pry... and so, of course, I do.

"I'm listening," I tell him, propping my chin in my palm and offering a cheeky smile.

He breathes out a laugh, shaking his head in mild amusement before glancing over at his phone when a message lights up the screen. The smile slowly drops from his lips and, as if by habit, he gently flips the phone over to hide the screen.

"Another time," he mutters, leaning back and crossing his arms.

I don't know if he means it's a conversation for another time, or if he was speaking indirectly to whoever messaged him, but either way, I consider the subject dropped. Even I have limits and the stiffness in his jaw and rigid set of his shoulders convinces me to let it go.

"So did you just wanna see my pretty face, or was there a reason for this meet-up?"

He doesn't laugh at my question, but he nods and I can sense the tension melt away from him.

"Yeah." He clears his throat, tossing his pen on top of the papers he'd been glancing through earlier, and then crosses his arms. "Where were you yesterday?"

"Uh," I scratch my jaw. "I mean, I understand that you're totally obsessed with me, and knowing where I am at all times is just part of that obsession, but unfortunately for you, I'm not the type to plan ahead."

Seth sighs, resting his chin on his fist as he waits for me to stop talking.

"Honestly," I continue, "I didn't realize you were actually interested in the whole hand-cuffing thing. We might need some kind of session where we can really lay out all the expectations. Make sure you know what you'll be getting yourself into."

I see Seth suppressing a grin behind his fist but when he moves it out of the way, he's all business again.

"I'm pretty sure that's the second time I've asked that question," he says when I finally stop talking, "and I now understand that you have no idea what I'm really asking you."

I'm smiling, but my chest is exploding, because this feels like the moment. The moment when he finally says something romantic like, "why weren't you with me?" or "where have you been all my beautiful life?" or "I looked everywhere for you because I needed to tell you just how much I'm in—"

"You missed the shoot."

His statement has my daydreams slamming to a halt like a string of spaghetti against a wall. I break the connection with my imagination and blink my focus back toward the man in front of me.

"What?"

"The shoot," he repeats. "We had planned to shoot scene twelve yesterday. You never showed."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." He rubs at his left ear and then points at my phone. "Didn't you get the schedule? We emailed it to you last week."

I unlock my phone and skim my emails for the name Seth Vans. Nothing. I'm shaking my head in response to his question as my eyes continue to glance through dozens of unread emails. When his strong fingers slide across my own, I stop breathing.

"Here," he urges, waiting for me to release my grip on my phone so he can take a look. A second later, he hands the phone back to me. "Literally the second one from the top."

"Huh?" I take a look and frown when I see that it's from a Jamison Smith. "Who's Jamison?"

"The guy from auditions," he explains.

"Sorry," I shrug, offering a guilty grimace. "I don't open emails from unfamiliar people."

"I noticed," he grins, nudging his chin toward the device in my hand. Then with a cock of his head he says, "So if it had been from me, you would have opened it?"

I pout my lips, shrugging again.

"The subject line quite clearly states that it's our filming schedule."

I raise my hands up in defense before taking a sip of my hot chocolate. I can feel the whip cream coating my top lip and quickly swipe my tongue over the sweet fluff.

"You missed some," Seth informs me.

"What?" I ask, lifting a finger to feel for it. "Where?" I know exactly where it is. I can feel it.

Seth points a finger. "There."

I keep wiping, doing my best to look like I'm trying but failing so that Seth will be forced to rescue me from this embarrassment. My mind is fantasizing that scene in movies when the guy wipes the dessert from her lip and sucks it off his own finger. I'm feeling my chest constrict with the very idea of this scene playing out with Seth, and then he leans across the table. My breathing stops, waiting.

I will die here holding my breath if he doesn't wipe this crap from my mouth soon. My goodness, the sacrifices I'm putting myself through just for a teeny smidge of his affection. I hate it. I hate who I am around him and I hope I change soon, but for now, I'm going to enjoy being horrifyingly consumed with this boy.

And then, suddenly, he's wiping a napkin down my entire face. Not just across my mouth, but starting at the top of my head and smashing the napkin into my face as he drags it down my nose and then rubs it into my mouth. I can feel pieces of the tissue get stuck to my gums and teeth as my mouth hangs in shock.

I should probably react in some way, but I'm completely frozen in my seat. Very carefully, I peek one eye open only to find Seth back on his side of the table, arms crossed, and amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I got it," he says.

He's so proud of himself that I can't even hold it together anymore. Laughter bubbles from my chest and I'm pretty sure a soggy piece of napkin shoots off my lip and lands somewhere near my phone. I have a newfound respect for this man now. Maybe he's not as uptight and serious as I'd always assumed he was, which is a good thing because I love the unexpected. I mean the only thing better than this would have been if he'd actually licked the whipped cream from my lips. That would have really thrown me off, but this... this was good.

"So," he says, clearing his throat. "I suppose there won't be any more schedule issues?"

It's a question, but not really. Pretty sure this is Seth's way of scolding me for wasting his time, and no matter how gentle and self-controlled he is about it, it works. His soft words carry more force than a horse hoof to a skull.

"Do you play sports?" I ask, after wiping any remaining napkin wads from my face. I sense that Seth's attempting to subtly wrap up our time together, and I'm not ready to say goodbye just yet.

"Uh... yeah. Why?"

"I mean, I figured you did," I say, wagging a finger toward his physique. "But wondering if you ever considered coaching."

He laughs, lifting up his stack of papers and tapping them against the table to get them all aligned. "No. I like sports... but not that much."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean," he starts, "some people love coaching, yes, but others—maybe due to an injury—just see coaching as the next best thing. I'm neither of those people."

I hum in understanding, nodding slowly. I'm about to explain how his calm but authoritative demeanor could make him an amazing coach, but he's checking his phone now and I'm finding my energy dwindling. It's clear he's got other places to be. Or maybe he's just ready to be anywhere but here. Whatever it is, I know his interest is slipping. Apparently, he couldn't care less as to the reason for my random question.

I don't say anything for several long seconds, watching as Seth's brows dip in confusion or frustration as he checks his phone. He sighs through his nose, biting his bottom lip as he types something out and then he suddenly flicks his attention to me.

His eyes search mine for a moment, and I realize he caught me staring but I don't think I care. I'm not even sure if I care whether he knows that I'm totally into him or not. Part of me wants him to know—hoping that'll stir something inside of him—while the other part of me is petrified of him learning how I feel. Based on the few interactions we've had, there's a good chance he doesn't think about me until it's time to start shooting our scenes.

I've never felt so invisible before... and I sort of like it. He's making this a game for me whether he knows it or not.

"Sorry," he tells me, sliding his phone into his jeans pocket. "There's this person who won't leave me alone."

"Your mom?"

He lets out a tired laugh. "Not this time, actually."

I tap my chin, thoughtful. "But it's a girl?"

He shrugs. "I'd assume so. Haven't met her before. One of my buddies must have slipped her my number."

"Oh." I squint at him, ideas flooding into my head. "Want me to help?"

"Uh, I don't know." I see his eyes travel over me, unsure, and I realize that he has a very different opinion of me than I have of myself. Maybe he views me as a nuisance. Someone with no boundaries—which is true to an extent—but what he doesn't know is that even though my limits extend far further than most, I do have them.

"Look," I sigh. "I'm not going to humiliate the girl or lie to her and tell her you're my boyfriend—even though you sort of are." I offer him a smirk, which he doesn't respond to, and continue on. "Just give me your phone."

He doesn't take his suspicious gaze off of me as he carefully pulls his phone back out and slides it across the table.

I give him a pointed look and nudge the device back toward him. "Mind unlocking it?."

He does as I ask and then watches as I nosily scroll through his messages. Her message is at the top, saved in his contacts as 'Tall Red Sandy Blue."

"Um..." I snort into my fist as I turn the phone around to show him the name he gave her.

"What?" he shrugs. "It's all I know about her. Figured I should know what to keep an eye out for so I know who to avoid."

"That bad, huh?"

He chuckles and shrugs, guilt etched into the tilt of his lips.

Smiling, I resume my task of sending the girl a message from his phone and then wait for a response.

"Shoot," I hiss. "You better hide." I glance around the cafe. "Just hide out in a booth; keep your hat low. Don't be seen."

He doesn't even bother asking for an explanation. He's grabbing his stuff and hightailing it to the furthest booth he can find. I can feel his eyes watching me but my attention remains transfixed to the door. Apparently, I'm looking for a tall redhead who loves the color blue? Has blue eyes? Maybe she loves red and has blue hair. I have no idea.

I—or rather, Seth—gets a text a moment later letting me know she's here and I glance up to find a tall blonde sashaying into the coffee shop. If Seth was using those four descriptions to identify the woman, he'd have never found her. Tall is the only match I'm finding, but I know it has to be her because she stands at the entrance for several seconds letting her eyes scan every single booth.

I know I've got to snag her attention now before her eyes drift any further into the cafe. Yes, the baseball cap is hiding Seth's face, but sometimes you can tell a guy is a complete heartthrob without ever having to see his features. (And then there are those moments when you believe a guy to be a heartthrob until you see his face. This is not one of those times.) If she gets a glimpse of the guy at the end, she'll know, because there's just something about Seth that makes it impossible for him not to stand out.

Slipping from my seat, I approach the blonde and offer a small wave.

"Hi," I greet, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I don't normally get nervous, but I have this disgusting rolling feeling in my stomach knowing that Seth is getting to see this girl for the first time, and I fear he's not going to be disappointed at all. "Are you... Sandy?"

"Cassandra, actually," she informs me. "Who are you?"

Her tone is sweet, with the faintest southern drawl, and more fear creeps its way into my gut because there's a real chance Cassandra might be a genuinely kind person. I hate competing with nice people.

"I'm Mercy," I say, motioning with my head for her to follow me.

We both take a seat in my vacated booth and I watch as she continues to scan the coffee shop. Thankfully, Seth is seated several seats behind her and she doesn't bother turning around.

"Sorry," she apologizes, still peering around. "I'm supposed to be meeting someone here. He's supposedly already here, but..." She cranes her neck a bit so she can see over my head and then starts to twist around in her seat.

"Yeah," I start to say, hoping to steal her attention away from her search. "Pretty sure I'm that person."

She freezes and turns back to face me, face blank. "What?"

I slide Seth's phone across the table so she can see all of 'our' texts and watch as her face drains of color before the deep tinge of red begins to fill her cheeks.

"Oh gosh!" She brings a hand to her mouth, eyes darting from me back to the phone and then to me again. "No wonder you seemed so uninterested." She slaps her hand to her forehead.

"Don't worry," I tell her. "I totally get it. There's this guy I'm totally into and it's like pulling an elephant through mud to get him to notice me."

Her laughter is soft, making her wavy blonde locks bounce. "Who is it? Maybe I know him."

There must be something a little evil inside of me because I almost let his name drop from my lips. If she knows I like Seth, then maybe she'll back off. Maybe... but is it worth that ugly tight feeling in my chest of knowing I've done something stupid? It's a feeling I'm too familiar with and I'd like to spare myself the guilt for once. Not like telling her would help. Pretty sure a blank wall would have a better chance at stealing Seth's attention than I would.

"Just a guy I'm filming with."

Her brows dip as she thoughtfully considers me and then her eyes widen. Realization has hit the target.

"Oh my gosh!" She looks horrified and amused all at the same time. "You're her!"

"I am a her, yes."

This is bad. So bad.

"You're Kiss-N-Split. The No-Chance-Chick!"

My panic pauses for a moment to consider her words, but I haven't the faintest clue what she's saying.

"What language are you speaking?" I ask, laughing.

She laughs with me, wagging her head back and forth as if realizing just how ridiculous she sounded. "Those are nicknames we gave to you. You're the one who stole the audition by making out with Seth! That was brilliant!" She smiles briefly before pointing a half-serious glare at me. "I mean, I obviously hate you for it but it was brilliant."

"You really wanted the part?" I ask, feigning ignorance.

"No," she admits. "I really wanted the guy."

Well, I've met my match when it comes to being truthful without regrets. Cassandra is gutsy and doesn't seem to care who knows about her infatuation with Seth... she doesn't even seem to care if Seth knows, considering some of the messages she sent him. They're a little cringy, if I'm being honest. I can see why he'd want to avoid her based on those. But in real life, I kinda like the girl, which isn't good because it means Seth might discover that he does too.

"So... No-Chance-Chick?" I question, forehead furrowed in wonder.

"Well, yeah," she says, like it's the most obvious explanation. "None of the rest of us had a chance after you were done with him. Heck, I didn't even get a chance to audition. He just blew the rest of us off to go running after you. Super romantic... and annoying."

I let out a single loud laugh and take a sip of my lukewarm hot chocolate. "If it makes you feel any better," I tell her, "he has zero interest in me."

Her eyes narrow, roaming my face inquisitively. "Do you want him to? Have an interest in you, I mean?"

I stare at her over the rim of my mug, avoiding the question as I attempt to come up with a clever response. But, I take too long.

"I don't blame you," she says, taking a deep breath and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "He's quite a catch. A good guy in every way that matters."

"Do you know him pretty well?" I ask, wondering how she seems to know so much when Seth has no clue who she is.

"No," she admits, "But I've got good sources."

My mouth opens to form a small 'O' as I nod.

"Well, hey," she suddenly says, moving to stand up. "I've got to take off. Class and all that, but," she pauses, adjusting her purse on her shoulder and turning to give me a devilish smirk, "may the best girl win."

Then she's sashaying out of the cafe, leaving me behind in a heap of mixed emotions. Apparently, my plan failed. Cassandra has no intention of letting this go. And now, instead of simply winning Seth's affections, I've got new competition to worry about. As sweet as the girl seems, I sense a dangerous determination vibrating beneath the surface of her pretty little face.

One of us is going to get hurt... and it better not be me.

---

Happy Tuesday! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. As always, I'd love to know your thoughts!!